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Falling feels like Flying

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Patrick blinks awake.

The springs of the tiny motel bed are digging into his back, no doubt leaving tiny indentations that will only be made worse by the fact he had somehow fallen asleep in his jeans.

It takes a little while to re-orientate himself. He knows where he is, of course, and even if he didn’t, he knows that David is nearby. Has this almost innate awareness of David’s presence; the puff of his breath against his neck, the curl of his fingers, clutching Patrick’s t-shirt in a child-like grip, the weight of him against his side.

But the rest takes a little while. They’re in the motel, which is unusual; Patrick’s room at Ray’s may be imperfect in many ways but it does at least have a double bed and a door. David’s room usually has other occupants, but apparently not tonight.

Patrick shifts his neck slightly to turn and look at the other bed on his right; empty and made. So, Alexis isn’t here, and he can’t hear anything through the wall that is shared with the Rose parents.

They seem to be alone.

“’Mm,” David hums beside him, twitching awake and shuffling up out of Patrick’s embrace to rub at his eyes and yawn sleepily. “Did I miss the end of the movie?”

“Uhh--” Patrick frowns, looking over to the TV, which had been playing Forrest Gump (the only movie Patrick still owned on VHS) before they must have both fallen asleep.

David sighs and flops back down onto his back. He reaches up behind him and fluffs the pillow back to make a better support for his neck and looks over at Patrick. “You fell asleep too.”

“How can you tell?”

“You have pillow lines here,” David murmurs, reaching with a clumsy hand and tracing the indents that have been left in Patrick’s cheek, running from his mouth up to near his eyes. Patrick catches his hand, and points to lines on David’s own skin, from where he had been resting his head on his arm.

“You do too,” he whispers, tracing the line with his fingertips, and then pulling it up just high enough so that he can kiss along it.

“Was a good nap.”

“Mhm?”

“Always sleep better when you’re here,” David whispers, so quiet it’s almost as if he doesn’t want Patrick to catch him.

Even now, only three weeks into their official relationship, he’s been getting better at opening up; telling Patrick when he appreciates things, and when he doesn’t. Even though he’s still nervous to reveal too much, he’s getting there. He’s trying, for Patrick.

“Where are your family?” Patrick whispers as he moves to lie back down, plastering himself against David’s front and tucking his face into his neck. He presses small kisses against the line of David’s throat, relishing the feeling of stubble against his lips which gets more and more familiar every single day.

“Dinner,” David whispers, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallows. Patrick smiles, letting his teeth skim the skin there. He loves that he can do this, that despite his lack of past experience he can still see that David enjoys it. Even more so when David lets out a little gasp and tilts his head up. “Don’t stop.”

David’s fingers thread through the hair on the back of Patrick’s head, keeping him close as he sucks a small bruise into the skin of his jaw. It’s visible; too visible, really. Not even a scarf will cover it, and David will have to keep his head tilted down all day the next day, but he has some products, some make-up and stuff that should conceal it enough.

Either way, Patrick is far too lost in the haze of his mid-afternoon nap. That, combined with the warm, solid feeling of his boyfriend lying underneath him, and he can’t bring himself to remember why he even cared if anyone saw.

A tendril of consciousness remains, and after a few moments he pulls back, breathing against David’s neck when he isn’t allowed to pull fully away.

“When will they be back?”

“Hng- What?”

“Your parents, David, your sister. When will they be back?”

“Uhh, why are we talking about my family when I’m trying really hard to get in your pants?” David whines moodily, pulling his hands back away from Patrick’s body to cross them tightly against his chest.

“Oh, is that what’s happening here?” Patrick asks, smiling against his cheek which he kisses, just because he can; David looks adorable when he’s all kiss rumpled and moody. “Because one of us is definitely trying, but it doesn’t seem to be you.”

“I’ll have you know I’m working very hard,” David mutters, craning his head up to try to catch Patrick’s lips in a kiss, but missing as Patrick dodges and moves to kneel up out of his reach.

“Are you, now?”

“Mhm, it takes a lot of energy for me to lie here and look irresistible,” David counters, giving in and reclining back against the pillows. He stretches his whole body out as long as he can, making a small sound of satisfaction as his bones in his back click, and levels Patrick with a smirk.

He then raises his arms above his head, drawing attention to the long swoop of his body which Patrick’s eyes almost automatically trail down, his mouth dropping open in surprised interest.

“Well, I can’t say I don’t appreciate the effort,” Patrick says, his gaze getting stuck low down on the tight black jeans and sweater David had chosen for film night; promising the optimal cosiness and desirability at the same time, according to what he had overheard David muttering as he had gone to change earlier.

David preens at the compliment, his dimples popping out even as he tries to temper down his smile. “Really? It’s just that I’m not feeling very appreciated right now.”

“Oh, are you not?”

“Mm-mm,” David shakes his head. “In fact, I feel un-appreciated.”

“Well, we can’t have that.”

“No, no we can’t--”

Patrick can’t wait a moment longer and gives in to the desire to lean in and capture David’s lips in a deep, lush kiss. He tries at first to keep his weight resting on his arms which bracket David’s head, but soon enough he starts to tremble, and David is pulling him down to rest fully chest to toe.

It brings all of their body flushed together; the flat length of David’s torso and chest, which rumbles every so often with a hum of satisfaction, the sharp dig of his knees against Patrick’s shins, but most of all the slight bulge of his cock rubbing against Patrick’s through their jeans.

Patrick makes a wild, high pitched noise; a sound he is sure has never come from his mouth before and buries his slowly heating face into David’s shoulder.

“Is this okay?” David murmurs, and one of his hands rubs Patrick’s back comfortingly.

Patrick has to stop himself from rolling his eyes at his own behaviour; in the few weeks they’ve been dating they have done far more than this. Inexperienced but enthusiastic blow jobs in the low light of the back room, and more than a few times they have stuck their hands into each other’s pants on a side road on the way back from a date in Elmdale, jerked each other off desperately, kissing all the while.

He has brought David to the edge more times than he can count (well, not quite, it has been twenty-three times so far, and many more to come if Patrick has anything to say about it). Patrick has licked and sucked the pleasure out of him, and yet still, the innocent press of his cock against Patrick’s is enough to make him blush like a maiden.

“We can slow down, just because we’ve done it before doesn’t mean--”

“It’s not that,” Patrick interrupts what he is sure will be a very well-rehearsed and thoughtful speech about consent, and personal comfort zones. He doesn’t need it.

He kisses David slowly, trying to express all these feelings building up in his stomach in the sweep of his tongue, the slow probing movements of his mouth. The disappointment he feels when he thinks of all the opportunities he must have missed in his life. The pure relief he feels whenever he’s with David; knowing that he has found someone who is safe, and who understands, and would never push him, or look down on him for the things he has never tried before.

“It’s--” Patrick pulls away, trying to ignore how the expression of needy frustration that David makes in response makes his stomach swoop. “It’s like--”

“You don’t have to say it, if you don’t want.”

“No, I just- I want to be able to put it into words, help you understand better why I- Why I still- Even though we have already--”

David thumbs at the lobe of Patrick’s ear, focusing his eyeline on that, rather than his face. It takes the attention away from Patrick for a moment and he takes a deep breath.

“I feel like I’m a teenager again. I- It’s like, my whole body is just- I always want to be near you, and to touch you, and I just- I can’t get enough. I feel desperate.

David tucks a smile into the corner of his mouth. “Well,” he starts slowly, looking far too pleased with himself. “You don’t have to feel desperate, because I’m not going anywhere, and I--” he makes a low sound in his throat and looks away. “I feel the same. A lot of the time, I- I feel the same way.”

“Oh, I, uh, I just figured that you’ve been with other people, that you were like- attracted to, so it wouldn’t feel like anything special.”

“I told you before that this was different, that you were different,” David mutters, and now he’s blushing. “I still mean it. You’re- we are different.”

A lovely red flush is spreading across the apples of his cheeks, and Patrick can’t resist chasing it with his lips. He scatters wet slapping kisses all across David’s face until he’s squirming and laughing underneath him, shoving at him lightly to keep up the appearance of resistance, despite the fact that all the while, his hand is tightening again, curling around Patrick’s waist and keeping him close.

“I really like being with you, David.”

“That’s good. I- um, I like it too.”

“Good--”

“Will you get back to kissing me now, though?”

“Since you’ve been working so hard for it,” Patrick murmurs, shifting to straddle David’s waist more securely and kissing him again. Kissing him with all he’s got; pressing his weight back into the mattress and letting himself go.

Patrick lets all those expectations, and little areas of self-doubt, float away. He lets himself hold David and be held in return. Kiss, and be kissed in return.

Patrick drops his hips closer, letting David feel how hard he is, chasing the sensation that the jeans are restricting. He moves his lips down David’s neck again, nudging the neckline of his sweater out of the way with his nose to kiss and nip at his collar bone.

David whines, thrusting up against him at a slow rhythm, and Patrick is about to pull back and remove a few layers when David makes a loud, surprised sound, and flips Patrick, who finds himself on his back on the scratchy motel carpet between the two beds.

“Oof--”

Fuck--”

“Ew, oh my God! David is having sex in here!” Alexis’ voice rings out from the front door, and Patrick thinks they are safe, hidden behind the bed and tucked well out of sight.

That is, until the other door opens, and Moira Rose walks in in all her splendour. From this angle, all Patrick can see are the fluffy white fabric of her insanely high heels, and the glittery black hemline of a dress, before his view is obscured by David’s head.

“Oh, David, I believe I was under the impression that you and your sister had a pre-ambling arrangement about utilising the room for cop-u-lation. It will not do for you to bring poor Pat back to your den of iniquity only for you to be discovered at the high point of your relations!”

“Yeah, David! We said only when nobody was home!”

“Nobody was home!” David yells from where he is still lying against Patrick’s body; pressed against him head to toe and squirming in a way that makes it clear he is trying to shield him from the view of his family but is actually making the situation much much worse. “Nobody was home, can you all go away now, please?”

“David, what are you doing?” Patrick asks as he finds himself being shoved closer and closer under the bed. “I’m not going under your bed!”

David makes a pathetic noise and presses his face into Patrick’s chest. It’s a dramatic move in itself, not in the least because Patrick knows for a fact that David tries his best not to let his delicate skin get anywhere near the “rough, course, unforgiving” fabric of his button-up shirts.

“Ew, Mom! Dad! David is trying to have sex under my bed!”

“David! Knock it off, please! Your sister has been through enough!”

“I wasn’t trying- Not under your bed!” David yells back at his sister, and Patrick smirks as he sees the way his face is red with embarrassment, and fury, and oh.

Disappointment.

Frustration.

Missed opportunities.

All the things Patrick has been feeling for the past- forever. Ever since he realised what he’d been missing out on. David is feeling all those things too.

The realisation makes something settle in Patrick’s chest. A sense of security and comfort in the very fact that David feels the same that he does. That he wants as much as Patrick does, and is just as frustrated as Patrick is all of the time.  

He’s laughing before he can stop himself. Lying pressed against the certainly dirty, vaguely sticky motel floor, with David against him, giggling uncontrollably about nothing at all.

“Did you break him, David?” Alexis asks, from where she’s hovering on the other side of the room, peering over at them.

“How exactly would I have broken him?”

“You know, when you were--”

“You think I broke him with my magical dick?”

“Ew, don’t say that word to me!”

“Ugh!”

Patrick snorts, giggling more. “Magical dick,” he mutters, covering his no doubt brick red face with his hands, and trying to take deep breaths of air.

“Okay, are you done laughing now?” David asks, as Patrick tries to calm himself.

“I’m done,” Patrick confirms, smiling up at David whose face has softened into something amused and affectionate. “Help me up, I should probably head back to Ray’s since your family is back. We don’t want them thinking you’ve broken me with your magical dick.”

“Oh my God,” David moans piteously. “No, don’t leave me with these- these freaks.”

“Mean, David!”

Patrick lets David haul him up off the floor and uses the momentum to press a laugh-warmed kiss to his lips.

“You could stay,” David murmurs. “If you wanted.”

Patrick frowns, and tilts his head to the side. “But Alexis is here--”

“Not to- we won’t--” David is biting his lips nervously. “Just to sleep. I just- the store is closed tomorrow so, we could just sleep, and Alexis won’t care if you stay here, so--”

Patrick looks over to where Alexis is sat digging through what seems to be a make-up box and she shrugs. “If you’re staying then you have to let me paint your nails--”

“My boyfriend is not some- lab rat for you to experiment on!” David exclaims. “As if I would let you get your shaky hands on him!”

“My hands are not shaky!”

David makes a dismissive noise and Alexis rolls her eyes, shaking a bottle of blue varnish loosely in one hand. “Fine, then I will do his left hand and you can do his right, and we can see which looks better in the end.”

“Um, I understand if you don’t- uh, want to stay,” David says softly when Patrick turns to look at him.

Patrick just smiles and kisses him quick. “I get to choose the colour,” he murmurs, before rushing over to join Alexis at the table.

When he looks back, David is staring at him with an expression of open affection. His eyes are wide, and his mouth is curled to one side as if to hide a smile that isn't getting the message. Patrick smiles back, and reaches one hand out, gesturing over for him to join them. 

The frustration drains away, and Patrick is left with a sense of satisfaction. 

"Next time, we won't miss the opportunity," David murmurs, as he chooses the black polish and takes Patrick's right hand. He places it on the table, running his hand along the ridges of Patrick's fingers, before finally uncapping the polish and beginning to paint careful sweeps along the flat surface of Patrick's nail. 

"Nothing about this is a missed opportunity," Patrick replies, just as softly. "There is nowhere else I would rather be."