His boyfriend was kissing him. His boyfriend was saying something. Patrick wasn’t. There was nothing more to say. His boyfriend’s lips were moving, but Patrick couldn’t hear a word. Save one.
Boyfriend. Patrick had a boyfriend. Patrick never had a boyfriend before. He’d been a boyfriend, but that wasn’t at all the same thing.
David on his lap was kissing him again, touching him still, holding their bodies so tightly together that Patrick could feel sweat spots through their clothes, and it wasn’t gross at all. It was intimate; it was sexy; it was being close to another person.
“This is very nice,” David said, like he was inside Patrick’s head the way he was inside Patrick’s heart. His mouth was sliding away, red with wine, like his flushed skin, bared for Patrick to kiss. “But this chair is very uncomfortable, and I gave up on performance art when I was 23.”
His boyfriend was right, of course. The plants in the front windows only blocked so much. The bathroom had a door that locked, but even Patrick had deemed the space too disgusting for extra-curricular activities until they could afford a renovation. The backroom was full of shipping boxes, and their little desk, where David doodled while on the phone and Patrick wrote out cheques, already had one broken leg. They did some standing up making out back there, but Patrick tried to keep the store professional.
Some nights, he was more successful than others.
“Tell me where we can go,” Patrick said, his swollen lips making his words sound slurred, “and I’ll whisk you away.”
They would make out in his car, sometimes, parking outside of town on a wide shoulder, behind overgrown blackberry bushes. The backseat wasn’t bad, especially—Patrick had discovered—with him on top, with the front seats pushed forward to give David the leg room he needed, with Patrick’s thighs around his hips, with their shirts off.
Rachel had liked being on top. She had more orgasms, they discovered, and better ones, when she was on top. He held onto her hips, but she did the work, finding the spots which felt best, grinding down, down, down. All Patrick had to do was hang onto his erection long enough to make her come. She wore herself out, gasping, glowing, gorgeous in her pleasure that they never had to discuss why Patrick didn’t come, too.
So the first time he and David kissed in the backseat, the first time David grabbed hold of Patrick’s hip and pulled him onto his lap, it tilted Patrick’s world a few more degrees off balance.
“Wait,” he had said, and David did, taking his hands off Patrick and putting them on the seat.
“Just kissing,” David had told him. He raised his hands and placed them, carefully, slowly, on Patrick’s shoulders. He squeezed the muscles and smoothed the fabric, and because Patrick was letting him, David moved his hands closer. He put them on Patrick’s jaw, and kissing was OK. Kissing was one of the things Patrick knew he liked, especially kissing with David.
“But if you want a little bit more,” David had whispered, mouth close and warm at Patrick’s ear, “you can grind down on me. See if it feels good.”
It did feel good, even with all the layers between them—Patrick’s jeans and David’s skirt, Patrick’s briefs and the delicious mystery of what David might be wearing underneath his clothes.
It was in the backseat of his car, making out in David’s lap, when Patrick fit another piece into the puzzle of his relationship with Rachel.
Patrick liked to be on top, too. It wasn’t about being in control of your partner; it was about being in control of your own pleasure, and Patrick had never come as hard as he had rubbing himself through his jeans on David’s chest.
Until the night they finally got naked.
“Can we go back to your place?” David asked him, eyes sparkling with mischief.
The advantages of Patrick’s place:
- the bed
- the door
- the drawer of things which made sex feel oh so good
The disadvantages of Patrick’s place:
“If you think you can be quiet enough,“ David said, pushing his warm hand up underneath Patrick’s sweater, his undershirt, searching out Patrick’s nipple to give it a friendly pinch. “I can do that thing again, with my mouth, that thing you really seemed to like.”
Their one night in Stevie’s apartment hadn’t been nearly enough for Patrick to explore everything he wanted about gay sex. He’d had blowjobs before, though David certainly seemed to enjoy giving them more than the handful of girls in Patrick’s past.
At first, Patrick had been disappointed their one night started with blowjobs. He knew blowjobs. He liked blowjobs. Blowjobs weren’t the point of the exercise. He would’ve liked to try giving one, being on his knees for David, figuring out how much his—frankly, critically-acclaimed—oral skills transferred over.
On Stevie’s bed, they had started like they did in Patrick’s car: him on top, straddling David’s lap, both of them so ready to just rub their way home, but then they remembered their time limit. So David took charge, and Patrick let him. He let David pull his sweater off, roll him onto his back. He let David crawl down the bed with Patrick’s jeans and briefs in his grip.
And after Patrick had come in David’s mouth for the first time, when he wanted so much to roll David over and do the same for him, his boyfriend had a different idea that night.
“If you do that thing,” Patrick said. He let David pull him up off the chair, collect their wine glasses, and the last of the bottle. “I absolutely won’t be quiet,” Patrick told him, holding his boyfriend’s hand and following him around their store as they got ready to leave, “if you do that thing again.”
David shrugged. He reached behind the counter to grab his bag and Patrick’s wallet, keys. “We’ll tell Ray to put on his headphones.”
But Patrick wanted it, too. He crowded David against the door before they locked up. He wasn’t quite ready to leave this moment behind, this night, their store where his whole life had changed. Was still changing.
He wanted to say more, but for tonight, “boyfriend” would have to be enough.
“I want you to do that thing with your mouth,” Patrick said because he knew David wasn’t ready to hear all the words fighting to come out, as much as Patrick wanted to say them.
His boyfriend smirked down at him with his dark eyes, only a little bit tipsy, and grabbed Patrick’s face in both of his big hands to take control of their kiss. David kissed him so well. He knew just what he was doing, and with their stubble scraping against each other’s cheeks, Patrick could never forget he was kissing a man.
He wanted to feel that stubble scraping all over his body.
“Let’s go,” Patrick said. “You drive,” and he put the car keys in David’s free hand. He tried to reach around to open the door, but lost his balance, then lost his mind, his face smashed against David’s sweater, the scent of his cologne, the fur tickling his nostrils and making him giggle.
“Um, yeah.” David agreed. “You are not getting your hands on any big machinery tonight.”
Patrick grabbed the front of his boyfriend’s pants, and it made them both laugh, but that’s not what Patrick wanted. He wanted his boyfriend to drag him up the stairs. He wanted his boyfriend to strip him naked and shove him on his bed. He wanted to be ass up, facedown, spread out for his boyfriend to take.
“Wow,” David had said, that first time they tried it. “You really like this.”
He had been nervous, Patrick realised then. He was testing boundaries, and all Patrick wanted to say was, yes, keep going, but every word turned into a moan in his mouth.
There had been no chance to do it again, but Patrick had been thinking about it.
“You really like this,” David said, voice confident and challenging, watching Patrick from the driver seat, even though he should have been watching the road.
“The possibility of sex tonight? Yes, David, I like this a lot.”
David made a humming noise in response. He reached across the car and rubbed Patrick’s knee. “Not the sex,” he said, “though you know I’m always ready when you are.”
Patrick lifted his boyfriend’s hand to his lips.
“This,” David said, a smug signature Rose smile spreading across his face. “You are a slut for domesticity.”
“Huh.” That couldn’t be right. Patrick had spent too many years being disappointed in himself because he knew he wouldn’t be a good husband. He wouldn’t do that to Rachel, not when he was so bad at being her boyfriend.
With David, the word “boyfriend” already felt too small, not enough. But Patrick was a patient man. He was enjoying each step with David, instead of dreading the next to come.
“I like being your boyfriend,” Patrick said. He had probably never said those words before. David turned away, suddenly very interested in the road ahead.
He turned the car down a dark alleyway and into the extra parking space at the back of Ray’s house. Patrick watched as David got out, did his funny little run around the car, then opened the door, and helped Patrick onto his feet. David held him around the waist and whispered a secret in his ear.
“I like that you’re my boyfriend, too.”
Ray was talking as soon as they opened the door. He didn’t leave the couch, the TV was blaring. Patrick could even hear the sound of him typing, and perhaps the thick Indian accent wasn’t from the TV, but Ray’s mother on speaker. Still, Ray kept up his full report of the day’s activities, even as David held tightly to Patrick’s hand and led him up the stairs.
“Good night, boys!” Ray called, like all of this was just real life.
“That was easy,” David said.
Patrick shook his head. “He’s going to make you pay for that tomorrow morning.”
“You say that like you haven’t seen me eat pancakes.”
“I think you promised me some eating tonight.” He pressed his body against David, shameless.
David’s mouth fell open, and his hand muffled a laugh. “Mr. Brewer, the mouth on you.”
Patrick and Rachel had tried dirty talk exactly once. They were both completely inept and never actually made it to the sex that night. But they laughed a lot; they could always make each other laugh. It had been easy to stay together so long because they liked each other so much. And after all those years, like turns into some kind of love.
Patrick was feeling all of that right now, sitting on his rented bed, staring up at David’s face and the light reflected off his rings. There was like there, and love, too, as well as a deep down pull of lust that had never made him so hard.
“Kiss me.” Patrick yanked David down on top of him, grabbing hold of any piece of fabric to help him. David’s mouth was sharp and rough, and he knew how Patrick liked to be kissed already. He knew what Patrick needed when Patrick didn’t know the names of things.
Something that hadn’t changed from sex with women to sex with David was the challenge of undressing. Rachel was a jeans and T-shirt person—like Patrick. He had to work a little harder to break through David’s layers. But the joy of unwrapping David’s pants, reaching his hands between the sensuous fabrics, finding the prize of hard and hairy maleness beneath.
“More.” Patrick had never been a man of words, and all of them were failing him now. He had no name for the feelings swirling in his stomach. He looked up into those brown eyes, and he couldn’t remember his boyfriend’s name. “More.”
Naked, finally, on the bed, with his face in a pillow to stop nosy roommates from coming upstairs, Patrick braced his body against his boyfriend’s touch. Big hands pulled his hips into the best position. He moaned; he surrendered.
He had liked how Rachel was shorter than him. He could piggyback her when she got drunk. She fit into his clothes.
But his boyfriend’s body was a weight on his back, a hard bulge nudging his ass, a warm hand massaging his shoulders.
“Relax,” a deep voice said, sweetly, and Patrick would certainly try.
Kisses dotted across his shoulders, down the curve of his back, and as those lips moved closer, closer, Patrick held himself still. He would not tense up. He would not give his boyfriend any reason to doubt his desire.
“Tell me how it feels.”
“Rough,” Patrick said. “Heavy.”
“But you like it?”
He understood the importance of the question. He answered with a long sibilant “yes.”
“No one has ever had you like this.”
“And who am I, Patrick?” The question was followed by that tongue drawing a line back up his spine. Heavy heat blanketed his body, trapped between the bed and this man. His boyfriend.
“Say it again.”
“My boyfriend. David. Rose.“ Patrick turned his head, desperate for a kiss. “The only person who has ever been inside me.” David gave him what he needed, and then his lips were gone, then his tongue returned to teasing Patrick open.
Sex with Rachel was easy, in the moment. The moves were rote; the results, expected. Patrick knew how to make a woman come because, other than baseball, it was pretty much the only thing his friends wanted to talk about. He listened, he learned, he became the boyfriend she needed him to be.
In the moment, sex with Rachel was physical. Skin plus friction equalled release, and Patrick’s job was done. But it never equalled enough to fill the empty space inside him. Nothing fit. The shape of it was too complex. Rachel tried, and Patrick didn’t know why she wasn’t enough. Not until David.
Sex with David wasn’t easy. Once they moved passed kissing, Patrick had no idea what he was doing. The moves were unfamiliar; the results, beyond possibility.
Rimming, David had promised, would be good. After their first naked orgasms together, when Patrick lay panting on Stevie’s bed, he stared at the flocked ceiling. His fingers were still clenched in David’s hair where David’s head was resting on Patrick’s heaving belly.
“What’s next?” Patrick had asked. With only one night, he wanted everything.
David had grinned at Patrick. He sucked one long finger into his mouth and pulled the silver ring off with his teeth.
“I can do this,” he had said, tracing a wet line between Patrick’s tight balls and down, down, touching a place no one ever had. Patrick grabbed the sheets. He bucked, he yelped, but he trusted. He let David inside.
“But,” David had said, resting his chin on Patrick’s thigh, licking his mouth until it was shiny and plump. “I can also use my tongue.”
Patrick had bucked at the first touch. He had yelped when David first pressed his mouth into Patrick’s ass, but he trusted, and fuck, David made him feel so good. David held his hips, and Patrick gave in. He gave himself up to David’s mouth.
“So that was new,” Patrick had told him, their first night together in Stevie’s empty apartment. David earned every twitch of his smug smile.
Tonight, the second time Patrick had the chance to feel that mouth, he came longer, harder, with quiet curses muffled into his pillow.
“It’s never been like that,” he said when he found his breath. Patrick wrapped his arms around David’s neck and dragged him on top of his body. He pressed his nose against David’s skin and drew deep lungfuls of David’s scent. “It’s never been that good,” Patrick told him because he was afraid David wouldn’t understand.
“For me, too,” David said.
Patrick turned his head to look into David’s eyes. They would tell him all he needed to know. The way David looked at him sometimes, Patrick didn’t know what to do with all those feelings.
“But you haven’t come yet,” he whined, rolling their hips together. Patrick was naked, sticky, sweaty. His come was matted in David’s chest hair, but David was still wearing his pants.
“I want my boyfriend to do it.”
“Yes,” Patrick said. He pushed David onto his back, eyes wide watching David reach up to grab hold of the brass bed frame. “I can do that.”
He kissed David’s mouth first—salty. He kissed David’s neck, rough with the day’s stubble—Patrick’s spot. Nipples next, a gentle bite for both. David liked that, but they weren’t sensitive like they had been for Patrick’s previous partners.
The coarse dark hair of his armpit, though, was right there, uncovered for maybe the first time. David’s sweaters were cozy; they made him touchable. But they hid so much away from Patrick’s curious eyes.
“Can I?” he asked.
The smile across David’s face was amused, indulgent. “Of course.”
He licked upwards, following the curve, the hair slick with sweat. David tasted even saltier here, dark and fragrant, unmistakably male. Patrick grabbed the hair between his teeth and pulled, tested.
“Hey!” David yelped, but when Patrick looked up, he noticed David’s fingers still clenched around the brass bars. “Naughty,” he teased. Patrick liked it.
Impatient now, Patrick kissed down David’s body. Every moment of privacy had to be cherished because the next interruption was inevitable. It wouldn’t take long to make David come, but Patrick wanted them both to enjoy this.
He paid some extra attention to the softness above David’s pants. With teeth and tongue, he sucked a red mark below David’s belly button to distract his boyfriend while he tried to figure out how to get these pants off. It had only been a few weeks, but David Rose’s wardrobe was proving to be the most challenging aspect of being his boyfriend.
“You can do that more,” David told him. “I like it.”
Patrick sucked harder, which made David keen.
During these few weeks, he had learned a lot about David Rose. Patrick knew how he liked his coffee (with too much sugar), that holding the door was not always appreciated (but still desired), and why Patrick should be grateful he never got that younger sibling he had always wanted.
Patrick knew, too, how David liked a firm grip around his waist, marks on his skin, and Patrick taking his time to explore their bodies together. With the rest of the world, David was terse, ready with a snappy remark to keep them away. With Patrick, David was clear with his instructions, guiding Patrick from what he didn’t like, then asking for more of what he did.
David was giving Patrick the first time experience which he himself never had. And Patrick tried to show his gratitude in every kiss and touch.
“Let me take care of you,” he said, holding his boyfriend’s hips against the bed and sucking his cock down as far as he could. Technically, this was only Patrick’s second blowjob, though there was that time in the backseat when he licked David clean after he had come. The first time, David put his hands on Patrick’s head to make sure he didn’t go too deep.
“I know you think research is good enough,” David had said, “but when it comes to sex with men, I’m gonna be making most of your decisions for now.”
He was right, too, because once Patrick got the plump head of David’s cock in his mouth, he liked it. His old teammates used to tease Patrick about his oral fixation because they knew he always had sunflowers seeds in his equipment bag. Patrick told them they were his lucky charm; Rachel would give him a new bag before every tournament.
Patrick sucked harder, watching David writhing above him, belly trembling, back arched. But his hands stayed where they were. David kept his grip on the bed frame. He was letting Patrick decide how much he could handle.
He couldn’t take it all, not yet. David was big, or maybe just bigger than he had dreamed about. All those years in locker rooms had taught Patrick a lot about what was expected of being a man. He knew he was shorter than average, but that just made playing catcher all the easier. But he measured up in other ways.
David—he was nearly as big as the men in the porn Patrick had dared to watch. He was long and always a handful when Patrick got inside David’s pants. He grew thick when Patrick touched him, and the skin was dark with blood, like the short hair which surrounded the base.
Patrick scratched his fingernails through the hair. He pulled back to suck harder on the head, then relaxed his throat to take David a little deeper each time.
“It’s just practice, honey,” David had told him, when he showed Patrick how deep he could take it. That amazing feeling—David’s nose pressed to his belly, David’s throat around the head of his cock. Patrick had been on that end of blowjobs before, but David was something different, and it wasn’t just the emotions.
For so many years, Rachel and Patrick had tried to coast on love. But sex was physical, too, and already with David, Patrick had to rewrite his definition of an orgasm.
“Almost there,” David said, gasping. He was holding his body as still as he could. Patrick felt the tension in his thighs through the palm of his hands. He let David’s cock drop from his mouth, licked his lips, then went back in for more. He sucked until he felt the uncontrollable trembling, and when David warned him, “Off, off,” Patrick decided to try and swallow.
“Fuck.” David kept his voice quiet, tense, a whispered curse meant for only Patrick to hear. Then he let go of every muscle in his body. He reached down to touch Patrick’s face. “Wow. Fuck.”
Patrick licked up as much as he could, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, giving David’s cock a good night kiss, before flopping upwards on the bed. He wanted to kiss his boyfriend.
“You were a straight A student, weren’t you?” David said, his mouth red and bitten. “Very quick study.”
They kissed wetly and sloppily. It was fun. It was new. It was cool that David wasn’t weird about sharing bodily fluids like this. Patrick loved their tastes all mixed up together. He pressed his nose into the moist skin of David’s neck where his scent was most familiar.
“You liked that?” Patrick asked. He hid his face until David rolled them over to look at each other across the pillow.
“I really liked that.” David cupped his hand—the one with the wide rings on each finger—around Patrick’s jaw. David’s thumb came to rest on Patrick’s bottom lip. “Do you want to do that again?”
A kiss was a good answer, an obvious yes. Patrick wanted to do that again, and he wanted to rim David, too, and see how loud he could make David shout, using only his fingers. So much more, and it was all ahead of them.
They cleaned up quickly, wiping off the worst with Patrick’s shirt, not David’s sweater. They kicked the rest of their clothes to the floor and got under the covers, legs coming together in a tangle. Patrick could probably get hard again pretty easily, especially if David kept petting his shoulders, but Ray would be heading to bed soon, and that fate was not worth tempting.
“So,” David said. He curled himself up small and tucked his head underneath Patrick’s chin. It was easy to talk about the heavy stuff if they didn’t have to see each other’s eyes. “Boyfriends, then?”
“Does that sound good to you?” Patrick asked. He stroked up and down David’s spine with his fingers. His skin was so warm and soft, but there was strength underneath.
“It sounds really good to me.” David pushed himself up on an elbow to give Patrick a deeper kiss, a smile, then settled back into bed. He hitched his knee around Patrick’s hip and fidgeted until he was comfortable. Patrick let his body be arranged, stroking David’s skin and waiting for David to be ready for sleep.
“This bedroom situation, though?” He tweaked Patrick’s nipple to make sure he had his attention. “You have to get your own place before I can teach you anything more.”
Patrick hummed his agreement. He could see their house in his mind, outside of town, surrounded by forest. Fruit trees that would flower in the spring. A big kitchen for family dinners. Lots of space for a dog perhaps.
He could see the rest of his life with David spread out in front of him. Until then, he was happy to be here, in the spare room at Ray’s house, during a few stolen moments at the crowded motel, or behind the counter of the store he owned with his boyfriend.
Patrick slid his hand up David’s back, scratching his nails through David’s soft, dark hair because it was a sure way to pull a groan out of David’s throat. Tonight, all Patrick heard was a contented purr.
His boyfriend was happy here, too.