#challe

they'd play gigs in pubs and at a few events around town. nothing big. mostly indie-rock covers: stuff from the killers, the strokes, and a lot of arctic monkeys. it made them some cash, but it was more about the thrill of being on stage and the joy of sharing something that kept them close. it was also for the girls, especially if you’d ask patrick.

when you met him on campus for the first time, he was hanging a poster for their upcoming show.

“hey,” he said, pointing at the poster with one hand when you came closer to check it out. “you should come this friday. the guys play some really good music. i’m the vocalist, but my opinion still counts, right?” he grinned.

that was enough to convince you. well, the fact that he was tall and had strong arms didn’t hurt either. plus, it wasn’t like you had much to do on friday anyway. so naturally, you picked a mini skirt, your favorite pair of boots, and a friend to drag along.

the place had a decent crowd, but it wasn’t packed. the two of you ended up getting a good spot, front and center, right where patrick could set his eyes on you again. 

his vocals were cutting through the room — low and raspy, keeping up with the tune of “the adults are talking”. he was charismatic like a real star, making eyes at the crowd, taking up space on stage, and pulling the other guys into his orbit.

“you forgot to mention they were all hot,” your friend julia said, laughing into your ear.

“i only knew patrick before tonight.”

but she was right. they were all pretty cute. the drummer sat a little hidden off to the left, but you could still make out his angelic features under the red lights. 

he was looking at you. probably amused by your white crop top that read ”say no to drugs and yes to drummers”.

you weren’t sure if the set was done or if they were just taking a break, but the band stepped off stage for a bit. not long after, you spotted patrick at the bar with his friends, nodding for you to come over.

“nice shirt,” patrick said with a grin. “since you’re clearly into drummers, this is art.”

the guy behind him smiled, just a little, like he was as surprised by the intro as you were. 

“it’s just a shirt. you don’t need to get jealous,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at the brunette. “but your friend did kill it on stage.”

“band rule: we don’t get jealous over groupies.” he winked, watching you a little too closely, like he wanted to see if you’d flinch.

god, he was annoying. the kind of guy who flirted by stressing you out. and he knew he looked damn good doing it.

you shot him a look. “what if i’m just here for the music?”

“then both art and i end the night crying,” he joked, and wandered off to go hassle someone else.

art was still standing there, awkward but not moving away. there was a heat crawling up the back of his neck, stupid and fast. his fingers twitched at his side like they were searching for something to hold onto: a drink, a cigarette, anything.

“you were really good up there,” you said, quieter this time.

“uh, thanks. i saw you during the set. kind of hard to miss.”

you tilted your head. “because of the shirt?”

he hesitated, then looked right at you this time. “no. not just that.”

behind you, julia’s laugh rang out sharp and warm, unmistakably hers. you turned and saw her leaning into the bassist, the two of them locked in some kind of back-and-forth that looked suspiciously like flirting.

long story short? by the time the pub started clearing out, they invited you both to tag along to a friend’s place. no one questioned it. it just sort of happened, like gravity pulling the night forward.

the weed came out somewhere between opening beers and stealing the couch cushions. patrick lit up with one hand and passed it around like he owned the air.

everyone was talking over each other, laughing while recalling band stories or demanding for more alcohol to be poured. still, your attention was focused. 

pat was sitting on the floor, across from you and art to your right. they exchanged subtle looks like they could communicate in silence but you had decoded the tension by now. 

both clearly wanted you, but it didn’t feel like they were competing… just waiting. 

“so, how often does this happen?” you asked. 

“what exactly?” art asked, voice too innocent to be real.

“you two going after the same girl.”

“depends,” the brunette drawled smoothly, voice roughened just enough, “are you asking because you want us to fight over you or you want to know if we share?”

“oh, i wouldn’t want you guys to fight. i’m not a homewrecker.” you laughed, secretly still studying their faces. “just want to know if i should be flattered or if you do have a record of falling for the same type of women.” 

art took a sip from his beer, then stared at the bottle like he knew patrick was going to say something embarrassing. 

“there was this one girl, tashi. my ex. art ran into her bed to make her feel better when we broke up. but i forgave him.”

well, there it was. a reason for art’s ears and cheeks to get even redder. he tried to explain himself but patrick didn’t even listen, just kept going.

“and there was alice, in highschool. but she was the one who asked to kiss both of us. said it was her birthday gift, so naturally we couldn’t say no.” 

“well, so you do share.”

“upon request, yes... i also help arthur out when he’s too shy to make a move, which happens often” 

“real charitable, patrick… why don’t you shut the fuck up?” art muttered, but it didn’t have much bite. 

you sipped your drink, watching them bounce off each other like this was just how it always was. it was kind of cute, honestly. the way they talked over each other, the way art tried to hide how much he actually cared what came out of patrick’s mouth. something about it clicked in a way you weren’t expecting.

“so,” you said, grinning, “how long have you two been dating?”

the blonde one choked on his beer. the other one snorted. two complete opposites, fire and ice. 

“we’re not —” art started, cheeks going red again.

“yeah, he hasn’t had the balls to make a move on me yet.” pat joked, reaching his hand to playfully mess with art’s hair. “he thinks i’m out of his league.” 

something flickered in the space between their laughs. something in the way art didn’t quite look at him, and the way patrick didn’t stop grinning, like the edge of the truth was brushing up against both of them.

you didn’t know it, but band nights did get wild sometimes: late sets, green rooms with no real locks, adrenaline running high. nights where patrick would be deep into some random girl moaning on an old couch and art would be just steps away, pressed against her even more random friend in the shadows, trying not to pay attention. doing his best not to stare at the way patrick’s hips moved and how his hands wrapped perfectly around soft curves. trying not to get fixated on the sounds he made, rough and breathless. 

he never talked about those nights. not really. but he remembered them too clearly.

julia called your name from across the room. her voice cut through the haze, laced with whatever new discovery she’d made.

“come here. the guys made pizza!”

you excused yourself with a smile and headed her way, weaving past the tangle of bodies and bottles. patrick watched you go, then turned to art with a very familiar expression, a grin that always meant trouble.

“you gonna shoot your shot or just sit there looking like a kicked puppy?”

art blinked. “what?”

“don’t act confused. you’ve been staring at her like she’s the second coming of christ all night.”

“fuck off.”

“no, seriously. it’s cute.” patrick leaned in a little, voice dropping low, amused. “you’re in love already, huh?”

art shook his head quickly, but the tips of his ears betrayed him, flushed deep red. “she’s clearly more into you,” he mumbled. “you’re the one making her laugh.”

“because i’m funny,” patrick said, deadpan. “that’s not the same as her wanting my dick.”

“it usually is.” 

“god, you’re hopeless.” 

you came back a few moments later, hands empty. “they’ve managed to make premade pizza go wrong. it’s cold, ugly and disgusting.”

“hideous,” patrick agreed immediately. “but not as disgusting as you ditching me.”

“i was gone for two minutes.”

“longest two minutes of my life.”

you rolled your eyes, but still let him pull you into his lap when you went to sit back down. and that’s when he took another hit from the blunt, held it, then leaned forward, tapping his fingers gently against your jaw until you turned toward him. no warning, no question. he brought his mouth close and exhaled the smoke straight past your lips. 

the kiss you shared wasn’t rushed or desperate. it was very intentional, with one of patrick’s hands holding on to your waist like he’d never be done exploring your mouth. 

art didn’t hang around for long. he’d moved to the other side of the room, engaged in shallow conversations and looked away fast when you glanced his way. he was busy trying not to wonder what your mouth would taste like if he had been the one to offer the smoke.

“you want him too, don’t you?” pat asked in a low voice as he ran his nose down your neck softly, just to bite into it. his voice didn’t carry any judgment or jealousy, just pure unfiltered curiosity. 

“he’s cute.”

“oh, i know.” he admitted with a small laugh. “if i get you what you want, will you be able to take it? or are you just being greedy?”

he was toying with your mind, letting the possibility sit there within reach. he was clearly in charge of your body too, hand moving to your thigh, slightly parting your legs so the miniskirt would look even more obscene. no one else was paying attention to the two of you.

just art. his blue eyes wandering shamelessly from your black lace panties peeking out, to patrick’s smirk.

“i’ve never done this before.” you said, honestly. 

“we’ll go easy on you,” patrick said, his fingers lazy where they traced a slow line up your thigh. “he’s a good boy and i don’t bite too hard either.”

he stood then, giving your hand a small tug and guiding you down the hallway. the bedroom he pushed you into was messy, something you could tell even with the lights off. pat lit a single lamp on the nightstand, the low light casting warm reflections over your skin as he got you to lie down on the mattress.

you didn’t have much time to think. his hands were on your hips again, one knee between your legs, mouth already on yours, moving slow and confident, coaxing. he kissed like someone who knew how to get what he wanted, but didn’t mind taking his time getting there.

“you’re too beautiful,” he murmured against your skin. “let me see you.”

the crop top was gone quickly, revealing your breasts sitting perfectly in a black bra. his mouth watered at the sight, but he didn’t rush – just leaned down to kiss your lips again, deliciously slow. one of his hands traveled up your skirt, fingers lightly tracing where your panties had gone damp.

your head tipped back on instinct, eyes closing as you felt his digits push the fabric to the side and finally touch you how you needed it with his thumb pressuring small circles on your clit.  

you were so lost in the moment that you didn’t even notice patrick clumsily balancing his phone with the wrong hand, thumb fumbling the screen as he typed. the text to art was simple: 

| “sos. need a condom.” 

he knew it would work. would lure him in. and it did. art did anything for him.

less than five minutes later there was a knock on the door. 

you startled at first: legs snapping closed, eyes locking on patrick’s in quiet panic.

“it’s just art,” he said calmly, placing a sweet kiss to your jaw. “gonna let him in, ok? we’re going to take good care of you.” 

you nodded, head already consumed by the fantasy of being the center of their attention. dripping at the thought. 

he opened the door just a crack. art stood there holding the foil square like it burned his hand.

“thanks,” patrick said. and then he opened the door wider.

“pat — ” art barely got the word out before being interrupted.

“come on, man. don’t be shy.” the brunette said with a smile. “we both want you here. doubles the fun.”

art stumbled into the room before he could stop himself, face lit up crimson. he looked everywhere except you, until his eyes inevitably dropped and there you were, lying across the bed, hair splayed, skirt rumpled up, those soaked black panties still on display.

patrick stepped close behind him, lips brushing the shell of his ear, “don’t make her  beg, hm? show her how much you want her.”

their dynamic was amusing to watch. it felt like art obeyed out of habit, knowing it was safe to walk into whatever patrick picked for him. 

he crawled up to your body, eyes fixated on your lips. “can i?” he asked, waiting for your confirmation before leaning in. 

art kissed you like he’d been holding back for hours. flammable, trembling, hands shaky as they palmed your waist and chest.

you couldn't hold back a moan as you felt patrick get back in the bed, his face finding your neck, hand traveling to your back and unclasping the bra with practice. it soon joined your top on the floor. 

“god, you’re gorgeous.” art breathed. there was nothing casual about his tone, he sounded devoted. 

he touched you carefully, peppering kisses all over before latching to your nipple and staying there. the feeling of his lips and the sinful way patrick looked down to watch him sent something straight to your core. 

one of your hands fell on art’s curls, tugging gently, while the other palmed pat’s bulge through his jeans. the brunette wasted no time stripping your skirt and settling between your legs.

he didn’t take your panties off, not yet. his mouth met the fabric first, tongue pressing in, soaking it even more, making it cling tight to your skin.

“patrick, please…” you moaned, feeling his hands pressing harshly on your tights, keeping you open. 

“so spoiled. bet you’re loving all of this.” he hissed, finally dragging the lace down your legs. “dying be our little plaything, aren’t you?”

you didn’t reply, cause art’s lips met yours again. you kept moaning into his mouth, letting him ground you while pat’s tongue worked. it felt slick and warm, alternating from bullying your clit to teasing your entrance. 

patrick lapped at your folds like a starving man and when his fingers got in the mix it didn’t take long before you were arching your back in response. 

“you wanna come for him, princess?” art asked, surprising you with confidence that you had no idea where it came from. 

he never felt this worked up before. he wanted to reach for patrick’s hair and keep him in place, so your moans would keep flooding the room. he wanted to taste you off of patrick’s lips until both of them gasped for air.

but he wouldn’t dare be the one to start it. so he just watched as your legs trembled, as you clenched around pat’s fingers. 

patrick looked up with a lust filled gaze, chin glistening as he offered art his digits, coated in you. “there you go.” he murmured in satisfaction as art’s lips parted without hesitation, soft and eager around his fingers.

it wasn’t as good as getting the kiss art was fantasizing about, but you tasted so sweet that it still made his head spin. 

“now, it’s not fair that we have her sitting here so pretty and we’re both still fully clothed is it?” pat asked, clearly having fun to be the one commanding the whole thing, giving it rhythm. “give her something to look at.” 

he came closer and slid art’s red flannel off his back, letting the blonde get rid of the worn out grey t-shirt that was underneath it too. 

you were positively surprised by the view. art had a slim frame, but his arms and abs were defined, like sculpted marble. his pale skin was painted in a few brown spots that spread along his shoulders and back, like a constellation. 

he was still fidgeting his fingers, looking at patrick for guidance before you took his hand and placed it at the hem of pat’s shirt yourself. you helped art lift the fabric, kissing every inch of skin that was revealed on the way. 

you barely noticed the shirt hit the mattress — your eyes were already caught on something much more interesting. right above you, patrick reached a hand to the base of art’s neck and rested his forehead against his. they were inches away from each other’s lips. 

you saw it happen, the moment patrick pulled closer and art gave in. it was all tongue, an urge suppressed for too long before this night creeped up on them. you could feel art’s cock twitching in his pants as you tried to open his zipper.

“you two look so cute, aching for each other like that.” you laughed, not even close to poking fun at them… just honored to be in the middle of it.

patrick smirked, tugging your hair lightly until you straightened up between them. he pulled both you and art in, everything blurring into the messiest kiss you ever experienced, not sure anymore where one person ended and the other one began. 

“can’t wait, i need you.” art whimpered, tugging his pants and boxers down himself. at that point you couldn’t even be sure if he was talking to you or his best friend. 

patrick lifted your face slightly, stealing all of your attention to his brown eyes. “you said you could handle both of us, so now you’re gonna be good, ok?” his tone was calm, almost condescending. “if something feels too much, you tell me. if you change your mind at any point we stop, no questions asked.”

you nodded, heart pounding, legs already shaking. you felt oddly safe in their arms, like maybe you’d already memorized their bodies and their voices in another life.

“come here. bend over,” patrick instructed, easing you down until your ass was in the air and your face rested in his lap. “wanna watch art have his way with you first. let him get you ready for me.”

you couldn’t think. not with the sight of art’s flushed tip leaking as he stroked himself coming closer to you. he placed one hand on your hip, calloused fingers from the drumsticks grabbing with no restraint left. the other hand lined his cock with your entrance, until he pushed in, painfully slow. 

“f-fuck — ” he gasped. “you’re so wet. it feels too good.” 

patrick glanced down over the scene with a smug satisfaction burning in his eyes, looking proud of himself for setting everything up. maybe later art would finally admit he was a mastermind, after all. 

his own pants dropped just enough to free his length, which bobbed dangerously close to your face. you kissed down his happy trail, breath hot, one hand wrapping around the base just before your lips met his tip.

it was big enough for you to choke on it, small tears forming on the corner of your eyes. but he didn’t force it. didn’t guide. his hand simply stroked your hair back, gently, like he wanted to watch you try.

“you can do better than that.” he rasped, pulling out long enough for you to catch your breath. “has art fucked you stupid yet?” 

he didn’t wait for an answer, just eased you back down with a curl of his fingers, coaching you into a steadier rhythm as you moaned around him.

truth was, it was nearly impossible to focus with art pounding into you and his short nails digging into your hips like he was holding on for dear life. 

the way patrick spoke and the view of his thick cock sliding into your mouth did something to art too, you could tell by the beautiful noises leaving his lips. 

“shit, i’m gonna come, i need to cum.” he exhaled, equal parts despair from the overwhelming sensations and embarrassment for not lasting as long as he’d like to. 

“it’s ok.” pat cooed, gently dragging him down for another kiss. “fuck her through it. let me feel how you shake from it.” 

art didn’t stand a chance. not with you clenching around him like that. not with patrick whispering filth that close to his mouth.

he came inside you. didn’t mean to, but the moment his body broke, his hips snapped forward, burying himself deep with a low, wrecked groan. it was like his whole body forgot how to let go.

you blinked, dazed, face still in patrick’s lap, lips wet from his cock. art collapsed forward, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades, chest heaving.

patrick looked down, unfazed. almost proud again.

“you came inside her?” he asked, barely laughing, like he already knew.

art nodded, cheeks flushed and eyes still unfocused.

“you on the pill?” patrick asked you, hand brushing hair from your cheek.

“yeah,” you whispered, legs still trembling.

“good,” he said simply, and without waiting, he pulled you up. his hands gripped your hips and dragged you into his lap, cock still hard and slick with your spit, pressing up between your thighs. he didn’t bother lining himself up with his hand, he used your body instead, rocking your weight until your entrance caught on his tip. “then it’s my turn.”

he pushed up. slow at first, stretching you wider with the thickness of him, groaning into your neck when he bottomed out. his grip stayed firm, holding you steady while he filled the space art had just left.

you could still feel art’s cum inside you, warm and dripping, all of it being fucked back into you.

patrick growled against your skin. “you were made for this, weren’t you?”

you whimpered, hands flying to his chest, trying to brace yourself but he was already going quicker, deeper, letting his frustration pour into every thrust. 

behind you, art was still breathing hard, but not gone. his eyes followed every move, hand sliding over his own cock, still half hard, slowly stroking. his other hand found your spine, tracing it down gently, grounding you.

patrick was muttering filth against your throat, fucking up into you harder. “god, you’re so fucked out already. such a mess.”

“pat…” you moaned, voice weak.

“that’s it. take it,” he growled, eyes locked on yours.

art’s voice broke through, quiet and calm, a sharp contrast.

“you’re doing so good,” he whispered, kissing your shoulder, then your jaw. “just a bit more, ok? he’s almost there”

he kept stroking himself slowly, the rhythm in perfect counterpoint to patrick’s roughness. he kissed your lips between words, sweet and soft.

your skin was burning. you felt yourself tightening again, caught in the middle of them. 

“come for me, please. i need to see your face.” art said, touching your clit gently. your body gave into his command. 

patrick groaned beneath you and slammed in one final time, cock pulsing as he came. his hips stuttered, teeth pressed to your neck as he spilled into you.

“fuck, you’re perfect.” pat hissed as art kissed your temple. “we should keep you around.”