The condensation on his bottle has loosened the label enough for his fingernail to finally snag it free from the glass and he begins to slowly scratch at it, his focus hazy from the alcohol, the long day and the freckle hidden beneath the sweater where his thumb is moving back and forth across David’s shoulder. It’s his favorite freckle. And as much as he loves the company of their friends, he wishes they were at home, where he could give that freckle the attention it deserves. He’d trace it with his tongue and kiss the skin around it until David laughs and begs him to stop, which he won’t, because it’s his favorite freckle.
It’s been a long day. Too slow for most of the day and then slammed until closing, leading to a bit of bickering about whether to restock tonight or in the morning. David had eventually relented and they’d spent the half hour needed to set things right, but he’d huffed and puffed about it, leaving Patrick, well, equally annoyed and turned on and eager to get his husband alone.
But they love their Friday night hangs with Stevie and Twyla, with an occasional drop in from Ray or a random other friend or two. They’d all just started converging outside the Cafe earlier in the summer, Patrick and David always arriving first, with Stevie wandering in whenever and Twyla dropping into a chair with mozzarella sticks and fries as soon as she switched the sign on the door to closed. One of them would always volunteer to replenish drinks so Twyla could get off her feet and by the end of the night, they’d all be happily tipsy with greasy fingers and aching bellies from laughing too hard, usually at David.
Tonight is no different and Patrick’s gaze shifts from his beer bottle to David, unsurprised to see three fries trapped between his fingers in the hand he’s currently gesticulating wildly with as he tells the story of Roland thinking their bath salts were rock candy and the chaos that had ensued.
“That man is a menace to society,” Stevie grumbles under her breath. She’s wearing her hair in a ponytail again, which Patrick thinks looks really great on her, but he’ll never say as much. He’s just really happy to see her thriving and he won’t risk an unwelcome compliment derailing that.
“And Jocelyn is either a saint or a masochist, I’m not sure which,” he agrees before draining the last of his beer.
“She has to be a little of both,” David mutters through his mouthful of fries.
Patrick’s attention shifts back to David again and his eyes fall to his lips, pink from his wine and greasy from the fries and his ability to focus on anything else ceases to exist. His neck, already dewy from the humid evening, grows even hotter beneath his collar as he thinks about how badly he wants to lean in and taste…
David’s head turns and their eyes meet and even though no words are spoken, relief washes over Patrick as shared wants and intentions are communicated loud and clear.
“Patrick’s getting drunk, so we’re gonna head home.”
His reflex is to argue that he’s only had three beers and is nowhere near drunk, but he keeps his mouth shut at David’s excuse and just shakes his head, smiling at Twyla and Stevie who are looking at both of them with way too knowing smiles.
“Leave your mess, it’s my turn to clear,” Stevie says as she pushes her chair back and stands up, waving off Twyla’s protest as she grabs the necks of empty bottles and snatches David’s wine from his hand to drain the glass herself.
“Menace,” David teases.
“Saint,” Stevie responds, giving Patrick a quick nod before disappearing into the Cafe.
Patrick’s on his feet now, reflexively reaching out for David’s waist as he goes to stand next to him by his chair.
“See you boys in the am,” Twyla says through a yawn and Patrick just smiles and blows her a kiss. She wrinkles her nose and gives them a little wave and Patrick leans into David’s side as he turns to lead them up the street towards their house. It’s a little too warm to be pressed this close and Patrick immediately begins to feel a bit flushed, but he’s been needing contact for hours and he’s too greedy to let go.
“Think that was too obvious?”
“Don’t care,” Patrick replies, his voice a bit crackly from the need clawing up his throat.
They’ve only made it two blocks when he feels David’s hand at the small of his back begin to tug the fabric of his shirt free from his pants and it’s half a block later when Patrick’s control slips and he’s dragging David down a side street so he can press him up against the chipped brick wall of the Post Office and finally get a taste of his mouth. He gasps against David’s lips as ringed fingers slide up the inside the back of his shirt, grabbing at his sweaty skin and dragging him somehow closer.
“Too hot,” he mumbles against David’s mouth, referring both to the rapidly rising temperature of their bodies and David himself, but he’s too busy kissing him again to elaborate. He tastes even better than Patrick had imagined and he welcomes his tongue, sucking gently on it until he hears tiny whimpers escape David’s throat. Releasing it, they both take a few heaving breaths and make an attempt at centering themselves. It’s late and the town around them is quiet and deserted and there’s a stirring part of him that wonders if he’s as adventurous as the moment wants him to be. Taking stock of his body, his hands are already wandering and David’s breath is hot against his mouth and...
“Come on,” David whispers, so softly that Patrick barely hears it through the sound of his heart pounding between his ears, but he feels the tug at his elbow and lets David lead him further around the building until a dark, more private spot is found. The brick is surprisingly cool as he leans back against it, but he doesn’t really have time to register more than that before David’s mouth is like fire licking at his neck and his hands are working efficiently to unbuckle his belt.
“Oh fuck,” he somehow manages to breath out, gasping into the humid night as David unzips his jeans and takes a firm grip of his cock over his boxers. He knows from that first touch that this is going to be quick, and dirty, and he’s sure David can feel him swelling at the excitement of the thought of it.
His eyes had fallen shut with pleasure, but he can feel David’s gaze on him, so he meets it, working hard to stay focused on the heat he sees there as David’s hand slides over his sensitive skin, quickly driving him to the brink of insanity.
“I really annoyed you tonight, huh?” David goads, kissing Patrick before he can respond, which Patrick is thankful for. Words aren’t his friends right now, at least no coherent ones. David’s kiss is languid, almost teasing, a stark contrast to the urgency of his fingers, making Patrick feel a bit off balance and out of control. But David knows what he’s doing.
He really knows.
Patrick’s sweating through his shirt and his thighs feel clammy in his jeans, but god, he’s in heaven, close to it anyway, closer than he’s prepared to be. He wants this to last, but needs the release just as badly. Pulling back from David’s mouth, he manages to half mumble and half moan that he’s close, which earns him a few slower strokes as his husband lowers himself to his knees. There’s a bit of a grumble from David about his pants and the grass, causing a laugh to breach Patrick’s haze of pleasure.
His love for this man goes to his very core.
At the first touch of David’s tongue, Patrick loses any semblance of reality, caring not at all about their whereabouts, only on David and his mouth and the press of his fingers at the back of his thigh and the button of his jeans pressing into his hip where it’s trapped against David’s palm. He comes on a groan with his fingers fisted in David’s hair and his other hand pressed flat against the bricks in a feeble attempt at keeping himself steady.
Thankfully, David’s back on his feet and leaning against him almost immediately, saving his buckling knees from sending him to the grass. David’s hand is soft as it cradles his face, his eyes warm as he smiles in amusement at Patrick’s near collapse.
“Proud of yourself, I see,” Patrick jokes as soon as he’s caught his breath.
“I got my husband to have sex in public, so yeah, I’m taking a bow.”
“We’ve had sex in public before.”
“In a car is not in public, Patrick, we’ve discussed this.”
Finally feeling steady on his feet, Patrick shifts his weight to the small of his back so he can free his hand from the wall and place his palms on David’s chest.
“Agree,” he whispers as he slides his hands down the front of David’s sweater between them towards his waist, “to disagree.”
David’s hips sway towards him as Patrick’s hands find the waistband of his drawstring pants, the crisp hair on his belly tickling his knuckles as he slides his fingers beneath the fabric. Patrick is still learning the nuances of David’s wardrobe, but the easy access of his favorite style of pants is definitely something he’s come to appreciate.
Tipping his chin up, he smiles against David’s mouth as he snakes his hand into David’s briefs, nipping at his bottom lip as he grazes the tips of his fingers over his half-hard cock. David whimpers and Patrick touches him more purposefully, taking advantage of his mouth dropping open to slide his tongue inside, kissing him deep, tasting himself as he takes back control.
“Okay, I agree,” David pants as he pulls his mouth free, collapsing his body further into Patrick as he braces his forearms on the brick on either side of Patrick’s head. It brings David’s mouth right up against his lips, breath heaving as his hips rock into Patrick’s touch.
“You know I like it better when you stand your ground,” he whispers, nudging David’s nose as he gives him a less than gentle squeeze.
“Fine, fuck it, I take it back, Patrick…” His breathing has gone shallow and his bottom lip is trapped between his teeth and Patrick knows he must be close and quick decisions have to be made.
“Lean back,” he orders, and David does, moving his weight to his hands so Patrick has room to free him from his pants and move his sweater out of the way of the inevitable mess. David’s coming into his hand after a few more quick pulls, his forehead dropping to Patrick’s as he tries to catch his breath as Patrick works him through the aftershocks. He loves stroking David until he feels him begin to soften, drawing small moans from the back of his throat in pleasure and protest. Patrick finds his mouth for a lingering kiss as he wipes his hand on the wall, wishing he’d had the time and agility to finish David with his mouth. But, he knows David has his hand sanitizer in his pocket and he knows he’ll hear him complain all the way home and he knows they’ll both be worked up again by the time they get there to do things right in the privacy of their bedroom.
He loves how he knows David so well and how well David knows him. It’s become his absolute favorite thing about being married, an unexpected understanding of all of the complexities and imperfections of another person. He loves finding new avenues to love David the more that is revealed. And this, having messy, public sex after a frustrating day, he’ll learn something from this, too.
“My hand sanitizer is in…”
“Your pocket, I know.”
He’ll get it in a second. Right now, he just wants to kiss his husband a little more. Smiling up at him he waits the few beats it takes for David to catch on, which he does, and they meet each other halfway.