#patrick x reader

patrick walks in, full belly laughs and peels you from art’s sweat soaked form, gives your cheek a pinch when you stir and whine.

he doesn’t clean you up because he likes to leave you naked whenever he has the opportunity — which is more often than not. seriously, you two need close supervision.

he just carries you with him to that shitty little armchair in art’s dorm, the room still stinking of sex and the humid summer air clinging to your skin; art shines with perspiration where he’s face down on the bed.

pat makes do with the lack of room, hooking a bare leg over the backs of your thighs until you’re squeezed snugly against his torso, face smushed to his chest. you’re snoring, and it makes patrick smile, slumping down in his chair to rest his lips against your cheekbone.

you wake slowly, eyes sticky and crusted over with exhaustion. your face is almost nestled beneath patrick’s armpit where you’ve been writhing in slumber and you grumble at the scent of sweat, layered with cheap aftershave. his hard-on presses to the center of your stomach and you can feel everything— the curve it makes now it’s hard and weeping, the feel of the spongy head, the vein that runs through the middle.

“you smell, pat,” you grumble, reaching up blindly to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth and take a long pull from the stick.

“yeah, well you’re not so hot yourself, babe. the whole room reeks.” he reaches down to tug on a loose strand of hair at the crown of your head. “there’s cum in your hair.”

“not my fault.” you stretch upward like a cat, curling into patrick’s chest. “where’s art gone?”

“still sleeping, baby.” he lights another cigarette, sacrificing the first one to you - still resting between your lips - and the clicking of the lighter draws your head upward to gaze through heavy lashes at him.

“come to bed,” you murmur, kissing his knuckles. your free hand coasts a long line across his jaw and you dig your thumb beneath his ear, giggling when he scrunches his features and relents, and pushes you to stand with a swat to your naked backside.

art curls into you instinctively when you roll onto the mattress, your hand threading through the curls atop his head. you scrub sweeping circles across his bare back and he hums a pleased sound, smearing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. patrick splays himself over the pair of you, all long limbs that sit askew to cover as much of your naked frames as possible.

art squints through the yellow light that illuminates the room, bright and artificial on his sensitive eyes. your movements against him don’t halt, a slow, rhythmic, loving sweep of your hands that he’s come to look forward to in moments like this. his jaw tilts upward as he mouths at your neck like a starved man, like you haven’t just gone five rounds and collapsed from overstimulation.

“you two need supervision,” patrick snorts. you quirk a bemused brow. “i’m serious, look at what you’ve done to each other! you look like you’ve been mauled.”

“jealous, much?” art mumbles sleepily, the sound muffled through your skin. you’re laughing and it splits your expression in two, eyes crinkled with amusement as the strawberry blonde boy snipes at patrick.

“should’a come to college with us, pretty boy,” you giggle. “could’a had this twenty four seven.” you dip your head until your brow presses to art’s. “poor pat, with no one to stick his dick in. how will he ever cope?”

“you could help me out, sweets,” he deadpans, the nickname saccharine and sour on his tongue all at once. art watches you through heavy lids. you huff, biting playfully at art’s lip before you tilt your head to face patrick,

“okay,” you chirrup. art’s quick to sit up, separating from your warmth in favour of nuzzling against patrick. patrick tips his chin down, slanting his lips against the blonde boy’s.

meanwhile, you’re working his cock through his shorts, palming the muscle until it chubs up beneath your hand, drooling a wet patch through the fabric. patrick groans, hips rolling up into your touch when you hook your fingers beneath his waistband and tug his cock free.

he moans into art’s mouth and your mouth goes dry at the sight. you’ve always loved to watch them like this, the way they get lost in each other, the way they start fervently pushing into one another’s space until patrick inevitably makes the first move and sticks his tongue down art’s throat.

patrick turns to putty beneath art’s roaming touch, huge paws that squeeze and grope and push at every inch of skin they come into contact with, not stopping even as you press your face to the seam of patrick’s balls, inhaling the sweat-soaked musk that creeps up your nostrils.

art’s hand snakes downward, flicking over pert nipples and ridges of muscle before he’s flicking a thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. patrick’s back bows into an arch as you lave your tongue over his sack, humming into the sensitive skin, full and heavy and begging for release. his hips rock upward into you as you seal your lips over him, eyes heavy with lust as art comes down to meet your mouth over his mushroom head.

it’s filthy and messy, downright pornographic as art licks over patrick’s cock, tongue pressing flat against the corner of your mouth and letting his spit pool there. you’re moaning - unable to help yourself - pressing your face forward to slant your lips over art’s fully. it’s all spit and drool as you lick into art’s mouth, the heady taste of the brunette boy still on your tongue, and then patrick’s bracing a hand against each of your heads and easing his cock through the seam where your spit slick mouths mesh.

you gasp and your damp lashes flutter, heavy with tears, and art’s tugging you frantically by your waist, pressing your bare chest to his own as patrick throws his head back and groans, shallow thrusts deepening. his breath stutters out in short, sharp bursts, chest heaving when your face slides down, down, down, all the way to the base of him until your pretty plump lips are wrapped around his sack.

you suck it into your mouth just as art takes patrick down his throat, the head of his cock bulging through the hollow of art’s throat as spit stretches and bows from the corners of his lips and lands in globs across your face.

you’re too drunk on the pleasure to care, the vibrations of your little sounds shooting right through patrick until you feel his balls tighten; he groans, long and loud, pushing closer to the pair of you as his cock pulses rhythmically and he releases down art’s throat.

you push your way through until your mouth is on art’s again, tongue licking into his mouth to taste patrick, wanting to be marked, claimed by both of them. his lips part, nose pressing to your cheek, and then he’s lifting you into his lap, his cock an angry red and pressed to the seam of your thigh.

patrick groans. there’s no fucking way he’s hard again.

PART ONE: bestfriends, fuck, repeat.

╰┈➤ PART TWO

𝓦arnings : explicit smutty intro, smut such as oral, p inv.

“patrick, oh my god.” you cried. patrick was pounding into you like he couldn’t get enough. “fuck…” he moaned, leaning down as his hips grinded his dick in a deep rhythm inside of you. he kissed your neck, and chest, clearly intending to leave hickeys. his warm, wanting mouth made you tighten around him. “jesus christ, yeah, baby. squeeze me. feel me all up in your pretty p—” you cut him off with a kiss, his hand came to wrap around your shoulder to thrust deeper inside of you. the sounds of skin slapping and hard breathing filled your bedroom.

eventually the kiss broke and he started to grind more slower, it was torture in the best way.

“don’t hurt yourself.” he whispered, tugging your bottom lip with his thumb out of your teeth. you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in deeper— which earned a groan from his throat. his head dipped down to your neck again, but when you lifted his head, he looked up at you and presses his mouth to yours.

he paused for a moment. he reaches down and puts your legs over his shoulders and leans back down, making you fold around him. the sensation was unreal— that was confirmed because both of you had to pause to just moan at the intense feeling. when he started back up again, it was faster, more desperate. “I can’t get enough of ya, baby. you’re so fucking addictive.” you decide to tease him with, “hmm… me, I’m addictive?” that made him quickly grab the rail of your headboard— fucking you harder. “fuck! patrick…I’m…ughhh..I’m..” his left grip tightened on your thigh. “come, come f’me.”

your emotions were so high for this boy that you whimpered, and he leaned down and kissed you and you melted right into it. the wonderful feeling of his lips against yours, and the way he took care of you, the way he called you baby. you didn’t want to lose him again after this. but you always did. you knew it was just casual sex.

─୨ৎ

when you woke up in your bed the next morning, you were flat on your back, the blanket pooling around your waist. when the breeze from the fan hit your chest, you immediately pulled the covers back up, only to pull them down again to see the hickeys scattered across your breasts. you didn’t bother looking over to your side— you knew he had left. if he did stay— there would be strings. and that’s not what this was.

be friends.

fuck.

repeat.

it had started off with a drunken mistake, and then a tipsy one. and then he kissed you in his truck— which had led you having sex in the backseat. which now, it was a mutual agreement to meet up after school on friday either in his car or at your house. but you had grown feelings— deep ones for him since this whole “friends with benefits” things started. but you didn’t know if he wanted anything serious. so you stayed quiet. neither of you have brought it up to make anything official.

you forced yourself out of bed and went to the shower, once you stepped into the warm steam of water, you shut your eyes, wondering what could be. you felt the tears mix in with the water. you loved him. really loved him. and in return you felt like a fucking dick reliever for him— something for him just to go to every friday to get his weekly release, but he was your friend, so you couldn’t say anything. exhausted from the depressing feelings, you wiped your hair out of your face and got yourself out of your head. saturday’s were always the quietest.

─୨ৎ

on monday, you were walking down the hall to your first class. you looked on your left down a hall and saw johnny kavanagh, talking to non other than your best friend patrick feely. he smiled and raised a hand to you— (and it should’ve fucking been a kiss on the cheek and a good morning, you thought.) you waved slightly and walked up the stairs.

“I can smell the tension.” johnny said to him. “what?” patrick replied, swinging his head away from your ass going up the stairs back to him. “the sexual tension, pat. why don’t you ask her out?”

“cause he’s a fuckin’ coward.” gibsie laughed, coming up to the two of them, patrick shot a glare at him. “I’m not askin’ her out. just—“ “just what? let you suppress those sweet, tender feelings you have for the girl?” gibsie shot at him. “gibs.”— that was johnny. “listen lads, I’m just friends with the girl, okay? good friends. I’m not messin’ that up with a relationship that will blow up in the end.” “probably good friends alright!” gibsie shouted. “patrick, man—“ johnny tried, but he was already gone.

after school, patrick came up to you as everyone was walking out for the end of the day. “hey.” you looked up at him. “hi, patrick.” the tension was horribly suffocating today. “how was your day?” he choked out. “good, what about yours?” “It was good…do ya need a ride?” “actually, I do. claire bailed on me, said something came up.”

in the passenger seat of his truck, you looked over at him. “where are we going?” that oddly made him chuckle. “well, I supposed I drove ya home.” “oh yeah, right.”

on the ride, there was a unexpected speed bump, and you jolted— which made a big hand come to your thigh to steady you. you blushed when that hand stayed when he continued to drive. when he pulls up to the side of your house, you looked at him exactly when he was leaning over to you, in a blink his lips were on your neck. you felt your eyes shut from the sensation. he was so fucking good at this. “patrick… it’s not.. it’s monday. our days are frid—“

“I don’t care. I want you so goddamn badly right now.”

— ୨ৎ

“yeah, yeah. fuck my face, baby. put in the work.” patrick groaned from between your legs, you were using all your hip strength to rub and grind yourself in his face while you were flat on your back— in the back of his truck. still at the side of your house. “mmphm…” “ya feel good, sweet girl?” patrick rasped out, putting his tongue out when you grinded back up, and the surprise of his wet tongue made you moan louder. “your family’s gonna hear ya from outside.” you could hear the smile in his voice. “you’re kinky.” you breathed out, a smile came across your face, quickly replaced by a moan.

“you look so beautiful.” he breathed, grabbing your hips to still your grinds and working his mouth on you instead. caught up in the moment, you didn’t hear him at first, but once the words registered in your brain, you looked down at him and barley got out, “you think im beautiful?” patrick paused— which you would usually pull him by his hair back down on you but you wanted to hear this.

“of course I do. you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve laid my eyes on.” that made your head spin and circulate what the hell he could’ve meant by that. you didn’t get to ponder on it for long because his mouth came down on you again, and all thoughts cleared away…atleast for now.

— ୨ৎ

on thursday, you guys were in the chipper. “so, listen.” patrick says, taking a mean bite out of his burger. “listening.” “hughie is having a party on friday. let me take you.” you smiled at him. “aww, you wanna take me?” you teased him, reaching up to pinch his cheek, he nudged you away, smiling. “chill. I can take you to parties. plus, we always go together.” “hmmm. yeah, I suppose that’s true.”

he looked over at your plate, he takes a fry. “patrick, you elephant!” “I need it for the rugby.” he laughed at his own lame excuse. “oh yeah because burgers and fries will give you the fuel for that.” you smiled and took a bite out of his burger. “how do you feel?” you said through your food, smiling happily. he rolled his eyes. “disturbed.” “whatever. you’re worse.”

he laughed at that, nudging you and offering you a fry. “we’re both bad. that’s why you’re my best friend. ya get me.” you take the fry and realize the piece of food was an excuse to get you to look at him. “getting all sentimental over food, patrick?” your emotions for the boy shot right back up hard in your heart, making your voice breathless.

“nah, just admirin’ the amazin’ girl infront of me.”

“you’re sweet, patrick.” that made him blush somehow because he switched the topic. like he was too scared to go any further. “so…about that party?”

“yeah. I’m in.”

thank you for reading angels!! I know this was one was lengthy.

as you can see at the top, it says part one. I plan to make a few more parts to this. ♡

taglist: @ithinkimagirlkisser @angel06babysworld

join the taglist here.

banner credits : @chrisssiren

Patrick was now on tour, miserably playing tennis while you spent your days and months in Stanford. When you learned Art was also there, the two of you unavoidably started hanging together, for lunch breaks, frat parties and you even came to his matches.

Every now and then, when Patrick came to visit, you’d spend time with the two of them, your heart unmistakably skipping beats each time Patrick sat too close, or got too tactile, wishing you could have him all to yourself despite burying your feelings from years ago.

You were therefore very excited when he told you he was coming tomorrow to stay for a whole week on campus with Art and you! On the day he arrived, a frat party was held near campus so Art invited both you and Patrick there.

You got all dolled up, wearing your favorite party outfit which included a pretty good amount of cleavage that still left much to the imagination. Art had texted you the address and told you he’d be there already, with Patrick. The familiar name lit up on your phone screen brighter than the rest of the text, like it was the sole reason your feelings resurfaced a little. All in all though, you were happy to see your friend again.

After greeting some people here and there, you walked further inside the house, looking for the curly haired young man but instead you saw a familiar strawberry blonde walk up to you.

“Art!” your face lit up, trying to be loud enough to be heard over the music.

Somewhere behind him, Patrick’s eyebrows shot up at your voice, reckognizing you instantly, although you couldn’t see him yet. Art gave you a short friendly hug before giving you your drink — how sweet, you thought. He remembered your favorite drink.

“How’re you?” he asked casually, hovering somewhere between your right ear and neck.

“Great! Where’s our joke of a friend?” you joked, eyes scanning the crowd.

“Right here, baby”.

You jumped at how close the voice was. Patrick had crawled up right behind you, his hand hovering near the small of your back, his lips near your left ear. You turned around and jumped into his open arms, his grin warmer than you’d remembered, his eyes sparkling with joy and something that edged towards tenderness.

He hugged you back as strongly as he could without breaking your ribs, nestling his face in the crook of your neck and enjoying the familiar scent. That’s when he realized he had missed you… a lot more than he’d thought.

When you pulled away, a wide smile was plastered on his face, his eyes scanning your entire figure before stopping for half a second too long on your cleavage then back up to your face.

“How’s tour?” you asked enthusiastically.

“Ugh, don’t mention it” his grin faltered before he pointed at you with curious eyes. “You’ve changed a little” he observed, eyes still scanning your face and body.

“Have I?” your eyebrows shot up. “You just haven’t seen me in a while… See how that messes with your memory?” you rustled his hair a little.

No, his memory was intact, in fact, because he’d been thinking about you a lot. But you had changed. You seemed more… womanly. He didn’t mention it though, and the three of you fell into easy conversation.

“I hope this little brat hasn’t been taking too much of your attention?” Patrick put his arm around Art’s shoulders, looking between the two of you. He hadn’t missed the way Art had hugged you when you came here.

“Not so much, I’ve been seeing his matches though” you chimed, taking a sip of your drink under their scrutiny.

“Is he destroying ‘em all?” Patrick’s eyes turned to Art, mischievous.

“Yes he is” you immediately answered, nodding your head proudly.

Something in Patrick’s stomach dropped but he was too happy to see the two of you again to take notice and wonder why.

An hour and a half later, the alcohol in your system had rendered you braver than you’d ever felt before and also a tiny little bit too flirty. You had lost Patrick and Art somewhere in the crowd when you got carried away by one of your girl friends to gossip on some of the frat boys. That’s when Alicia, one of your friends, told you an anecdote about a prank call made in one of her favorite TV shows. You listened intently, the gears in your mind already turning at an alarming pace as a surge of adrenaline coursed through you.

“Wait, girls… I wanna do this” you suddenly said, smile wide, eyes fixated on your friends.

“How do you mean?” Alicia smiled back, suspicious.

“Give me your phone!”

She gave you another suspicious look before she handed you her phone. You grabbed your own phone, looking for Patrick’s number and dialed his number before calling on private, thanks to a little trick you’d learned in your early childhood.

No way he could find the number. And even if he did, it wouldn't be yours.

You moved to a quieter corner of the house with two of your friends who looked at you expectantly, giggling already although you hadn’t peeped a word yet.

Obviously, he didn’t pick up. He was probably somewhere drinking with Art. Or hooking up with a girl, but you convinced yourself he wouldn’t do that tonight, for some reason.

It went to voicemail.

You ditched your high-pitched enthusiastic voice for your best sultry, sexiest whispery voice. It also helped that you felt a tiny bit… excited yourself, tonight.

“Oh Patrick… why do you go on breaking my heart like this?” you said slowly, in a whisper.

Would it be taking it too far if you moaned a little? Before you could stop yourself the dirty sound escaped your lips before you bit them to stop yourself from laughing.

Your friends giggled and you shushed them with your hands, trying to keep your act together.

“I just want to wrap my legs around you while you tear my clothes apart… and then slide my tongue-“

You got cut by a small group of friends who walked by you and accidentally bumped your shoulder. You immediately hung up, your laugh catching up to your lips before you could stop it as your friends burst out laughing too.

“My god I almost got horny myself!” said Alicia, taking her phone back while you caught your breath.

“Shit, me too, girl” you admitted between laughs.

Eventually Patrick and Art found their way back to you. You were dancing with no one in particular, letting yourself move with the music, feeling happy that you were surrounded by people you loved. Patrick and Art watched you dance, as if in a trance, forgetting their cups in their hands.

Patrick’s mouth fell slightly open when you twirled and lowered down before quickly moving back up in rhythm. The guy who'd been hovering around you stepped closer, trying to match your moves, a smug expression on his face. You didn’t take notice but when he started talking to you, Patrick’s jaw clenched and he immediately stepped in between.

He called your name. Loud, demanding, yet friendly.

Your head immediately snapped up to meet his eyes, and you forgot all about the voice note, the prank, the laughs. His green eyes were so pretty and you could almost make out the freckles on his face, even in the dark.

You knew them by heart.

“We should probably head back, wanna sleep enough to spend the next few days with you guys” he said, softly grabbing your wrist, a clear message sent to the other guy who moved swiftly away, disappointed.

“Yeah you’re right, I’m tired anyways” you agreed, moving away as he led you through the crowd, his grip both firm and soft. You lingered in his touch, committing it to memory, your eyes almost closing of themselves in the warmth of the moment.

The music faded away slowly as the three of you stepped out of the house in the cold breeze. Patrick gave you his jumper, his warmth immediately settling and seeping into your very bones as Art observed you.

“My god you’re wasted, young lady, aren’t you?” he said with a small smile.

“Hmm… maybe” you shrugged before booping his nose with your index.

He chuckled, a little startled by how beautiful you looked in the night.

“Ok, let’s get you to sleep” Patrick interrupted, rolling his eyes fondly.

You hardly remember how or at what time you made it to your bed. But you woke up with a headache the next morning, grateful that it was not a lecture day.

You glanced at your phone. Art had texted you five minutes ago telling you to meet the two of them at the cafeteria for breakfast. You took a quick shower, put on a tank top, track pants, and brushed your hair quickly before joining them.

They sat by the windows, on counter stools. When Patrick saw you approach, he inched the nearby stool closer with his foot, inviting you to take a seat next to him.

The three of you talked for a few minutes as you ate breakfast until Patrick took his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. Your eyes grew wide, and you stopped chewing in your food as you recalled last night’s events… and the voice note.

Shit.

Why did it seem like such a good idea yesterday night?

“Oh shit I got a voice note I didn’t notice” Patrick said as he brought his phone up to his ear.

You couldn’t think of a lie to stop him so you were bound to see the massacre unfold before your very eyes. You watched his eyebrows go from frowning to shooting up so high it was comical. You silently cursed yourself.

His parted lips turned into the familiar shit-eating grin you both loved and hated and he slowly turned to Art who raised his eyebrows in return.

“What?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Holy shit” Patrick laughed. “You’re never gonna believe this”

“What?” he repeated.

Patrick played the message again, scoffing.

“My god… I just got the filthiest voice note I’ve ever had in my life”.

He listened once more before finally handing the phone over to Art.

Art’s eyes widened in shock as he swiftly readjusted his legs on the stool. He played the message again and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright guys, what the hell is that about?”

Patrick turned back at you like he had forgotten you were there.

“Y’don’t wanna hear that” he winked.

Ugh, you hated when he acted superior to you, like he was the adult and you were just a kid.

“Fine. I’ll see you guys around”.

You got up and left the cafeteria before you could think better of it. Patrick frowned, raising his hands in a questioning manner.

“What the hell’s wrong with her?” he mumbled.

“I don’t know but this… is crazy” he motioned to the phone in his hand as Patrick took it back.

Patrick’s eyes lingered on the exit of the cafeteria, still trying to understand before giving up and looking at his phone.

“I gotta find this girl” he chuckled, sucking in a breath before whistling. “She sounds hot…”.

“How the hell are you gonna find her, dumbass? She called on private number”.

Patrick focused as he listened to the message once more, a familiar warmth spreading in his lower stomach near his legs. If this is how he felt hearing her over the phone, he couldn’t imagine what effect she’d have in real life.

“Ok, she was at the party yesterday night. You can hear the music and the crowd a little…” he guessed, looking through the window without really looking, lost in the sound of her voice.

“You look like a pervert, Pat” said Art who’d noticed Patrick’s shift in demeanor. Although he couldn’t blame him… you’d had the same effect on him.

“Plus there were a lot of girls there..” trailed Art.

Patrick suddenly said your name. Art frowned.

“She must know who that is, right? I mean, she could?” wondered Patrick, hanging onto any hope.

“I-I mean, maybe, I don’t know. Thought you didn’t want her to hear that?”

“Fuck…” the brunette sighed.

After you’d left the cafeteria, you’d run to Alicia’s dorm.

You told her what happened, how stupid you’d been to do this to your longtime crush friend, and imagined the worst.

“Should I just tell him the truth?” you bit your lips anxiously.

“I don’t know… do you think he’d let that slide? Wouldn’t he get mad?”

“Why should he?!” a surge of anger coursed through you when you recalled his condescending look at the cafeteria, before it was quickly replaced by worry. “Aw shit maybe…” you shrugged, distraught.

Your phone rang. You glanced at it. Patrick.

“Fuck.”

You picked up.

“Where’re you, goofball? Thought we were gonna spend the day together”.

“Yeah that was until you became an asshole” you tried to sound playful and not too anxious. You shared a look with Alicia.

“Aw, come on, come by Art’s dorm, we’ll play some tennis or do whatever”.

You sighed and accepted.

The afternoon went by quickly. The three of you played some tennis, and Patrick found it hard not to stare at your bare legs and white tennis dress. The sun faded in and out of the clouds, as the sound of the rackets hitting the ball echoed all around you. It felt like a moment out of space and time, Patrick taking any chance he could to put his hands on you (shoulders, waist) and redirect your hits. That’s also when it randomly hit him that you were totally his type, physically.

After that, the three of you walked around campus and went to a bar. The entire day would’ve been perfect had it not been for the constant nagging in your mind that you had pranked your own friend.

When Patrick went to the toilets, leaving you alone with Art at the bar, you decided now was your chance. Art’s right arm rested nonchalantly on the counter, his hand holding the back of his face, turned towards you, sitting on the stool.

“What was that voice note you guys were talking about this morning?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Some girl from yesterday’s party left a… sexy message on Pat’s phone” Art’s eyes bore into yours, unimpressed by the situation.

“How did she sound…?” you asked, locking eyes with him.

“Honestly?” he looked away for a while, and dear God, was he blushing? “Hot” he looked back at you.

“Hot like…” you cleared your throat and edged closer, while still sitting, so that he could hear you “like this, Art?”

The three words came out in a breathy tone, never heard from your lips.

The blonde’s entire demeanor switched immediately. He stood straighter, head leaving his palm, eyes wide, leaning imperceptibly closer to you.

“It- it was you?!” he whispered.

“Yes” you bit your lower lip and looked away. “Shit it was just a prank, now I don’t know what to do!” you confessed, whispering back.

He just stared at you, lips parted. You observed him and his bulge seemed a little bigger than normal but you were probably imagining things.

“Please don’t tell him anything for now” you begged, eyes wide.

You looked so damn good looking up at him like that and Art’s heart fluttered at the sight. He almost choked on air as he nodded a little, eyes still glassy, before staring at something behind you.

Patrick was back. The two of you immediately leaned away from one another, looking at Patrick casually. His eyebrows furrowed but he smiled, looking between the two of you. If he was suspicious of anything, he didn’t mention it.

The rest of the evening went by without any incident although you’d sometimes catch the strawberry blonde staring at you longer than he used to. Patrick sensed some unease between the two of you and his stomach twisted at the thought that he had interrupted something when he’d come back from his little break.

What if the two of you had gotten closer while he was away? He should’ve been happy about it but somehow…

That night, Patrick tried to distract himself by replaying the voice note before his shower, wishing the excitement it generated in him would take a greater space in his mind than you did. And it worked… until he released himself and was back to thinking about how close you and Art had looked.

The next morning, you cursed yourself when your small walk around campus led you to the tennis courts. You had only meant to stroll mindlessly, trying to forget about the darn voice note and now you could see Patrick and Art playing against one another in the distance.

Art was the first one to spot you, immediately forgetting about the match and stopping mid-run to wave at you, squaring his shoulders up and running a hand through his hair. Patrick thought his best friend had seen a crush the way his behavior changed but when he turned and recognized your silhouette in the distance, the adrenaline of the game took a sour taste.

“Did you find anything new about the voice note, by the way?” asked Art to Patrick, before you could be close enough to hear their conversation.

“Nah…” shrugged Patrick, mindlessly hitting a ball with his racket.

Patrick could’ve sworn Art’s lips twitched. His eyes didn’t leave his best friend’s figure until you were sitting in the sidelines motioning for them to keep playing.

This time around, when they played, something shifted. They were serious, relentless in their coups, their voices shouting occasionally to the force of their attack. It wasn’t long before they were drenched in sweat and your mind couldn’t register how hot watching them play like this was. It was like they were fighting. For what, for who… you didn’t know.

By the time they were done, Patrick had won (very close call) and you clapped cheerfully for the two of them. Patrick cockily bowed before you while Art simply stared intensely at you, biting the inside of his cheek. The way the two of them stared at you felt different, especially for Art. You had never been the receiver of such intensity in their eyes, words and gestures. Little did you know their moves were fueled by a silent competition.

You couldn’t further analyze their behavior as you had to leave for a class so you promptly stood up and joined them on the court.

“Alright boys, think you can handle a few hours without me?” you tried to joke, but your voice didn’t ring true to your ears.

“Yeah pretty much” said Patrick, looking you up and down unashamedly. Truthfully he’d always done that so you didn't take too much notice.

However Art’s silence was entirely new. He would usually offer up to walk you around campus or playfully nudge you when you crossed paths. But ever since yesterday night, he seemed off.

You just waved at him timidly, and he waved back. His small smile tugged oddly at your heart. Maybe it was the way his eyes never left yours, or the way his entire body seemed relaxed and yet his jaw tensed and his eyes communicated such intensity… or, maybe, you were just going crazy.

The minute you were far away enough from them, Patrick turned to Art, shoulders squared.

“Spit it out, you guys fucked or something?”

Art was so taken aback by his friend’s words he physically stepped back.

“What the fuck, man?” his tone was calm but surprised.

“I’m not blind, Art. Since yesterday you guys have been acting fucking weird. I feel like I’m interrupting something every time I catch you two.”

Patrick’s eyes were unwavering on his best friend’s figure. He didn’t sound mad but there was a hint of hurt in his voice. Art tried to hold his friend’s gaze… until he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes closed.

“It’s not that, Patrick” he finally stated.

“Then what the fuck is it?” Patrick asked, anger bubbling up. He wasn't angry at Art. He was angry that he felt afraid of what could be going on between his two closest friends.

“It’s… I promised I wouldn’t say anything…” Art finally looked back at the brunette.

“Promised her what? What for? Did something happen? You guys have secrets now?”

His anger turned into jealousy quicker than he’d ever admit.

“No, Pat… I-“

“Spit it out Donaldson!”

“Look all I’m saying is that you always take the things and people around you for granted and you shouldn’t expect everybody to make the same mistake”.

Complete silence. The subtext of Art’s threat hung in the air between the two best friends. Patrick’s chest heaved, burdened by the things unsaid and a distinct fear that this threat might be about you.

“I never took her for granted” said Patrick, voice small and breaking.

“Yeah, alright”.

Art left. Patrick watched the blonde walk away, his tennis bag loosely hanging from his shoulder, back tense.

How did they go from playing some friendly tennis to straight up fighting?

You stepped out of your last class of the day, reaching for your phone to text Patrick and ask him where to meet up, only to find him already waiting for you outside of your class. Patrick noticed you were wearing the jumper he gave you on the night of the frat party.

The brunette looked miserable, jaw clenching, eyes darker than you were accustomed to seeing them. You stepped closer until you were at arms’ length and he immediately started walking.

“Where’s Art?” you asked, scrutinizing his hunched back and dark curls. His hair was starting to grow long.

“Why, y’miss him already?”

“Wow, ok. What the fuck, Pat?” you raised your voice a little, taken aback by his anger.

He didn’t answer. You caught up to him and reached for his arm. He let you grab his arm but his eyes were still hard, his frown deep.

“You have secrets with Art, now?” he finally spat.

“What-“ you started before you recalled.

The voice note. The prank. Fuck.

“No, it’s not like that” you sighed.

“Then what is it? Because clearly there is something you’re not telling me”.

“Just- come on”.

You grabbed his arm and led him up the stairs to your dorm. Luckily for you, Alicia had classes until late today so she wouldn’t be in the dorm for a while. You closed the door behind you under Patrick’s confused eyes, got rid of your bag and sat on your desk chair.

“There’s something I need to tell you”.

Patrick sat on your bed, facing you, heart racing. His curls were messy and you tucked the sudden urge to kiss his freckles away. The sun filtered through your bedroom window lit up your desk and yourself. Patrick thought you were a vision, the sun giving you a dreamlike edge he had seen in his own dreams before. You looked so good wearing his jumper, which looked awfully big on you.

Your own heart beat so hard you could hear the blood rushing in your ears. You played with your rings on your fingers as a way to distract yourself from Patrick’s unwavering attention.

You liked it when he looked at you like you were the only thing worthy of attention. You just didn’t like it when you were about to tell him the “filthiest voice note he’s ever received” was from you.

“It was me. The voice note. It was me, it was a joke, I’m sorry-” the more you admitted, the faster you spoke.

Patrick’s eyes grew wider and his body froze.

“I told Art because I didn’t know how to tell you, I didn’t mean to keep secrets from you, I don’t know what he said-“ you continued, trying to break through his frozen stance.

“It was you?” he repeated, all suspicions of you and Art being an item flying out of the window.

“Y-yes” you sighed.

“Oh my God” his face split into a grin, a relieved laugh escaping his lips as he stood up to reach for your face and kiss your forehead.

What the fuck?

“Why are you so relieved, I thought you’d hate me?” you mumbled, confused.

“Hate you? Nothing could make me hate you”.

The honesty in his voice surprised you. Your head snapped up at him, the proximity feeling suddenly intimate. If you so much as raised your hand you could touch him, grab his hand. And if you stood up from your chair, you would bump into him, close as he was.

“Shit that was you?” he repeated once more, disbelieving.

“Yeah is that so hard to believe?” you quipped back, growing vexed.

“I mean- Yeah, kinda”

“Yeah because you never saw me as a woman” you spat before you could stop yourself. “Look, Patrick, I really have to study for my upcoming test, so if you wouldn’t mind…”

You gestured towards the door, done with the stupid turn the conversation had taken. He looked between you and the door, dumbfounded. He tried to fight and talk you back into the conversation so you stood up, brought your hands to his back and started pushing him with all your might. Jesus, since when was his back so wide and firm? 

You could feel the muscles move beneath your palms, a great testimony to his athletic lifestyle and you ignored the warmth in your stomach at the thought of his naked back. Patrick, on the other hand, was too busy holding in his laughter, finding your reaction very cute instead of annoying.

“Will you stop?” he huffed between laughs.

Just before you could open the door, Patrick turned around and grabbed your wrists with a little more force than he had intended to.

You froze, your arms halfway up, head tilted up to stare at him. His hands felt huge and warm on your skin, and suddenly you wondered what they would feel like elsewhere on you. He leaned a lot closer, towering over you, his lips twitching into a smile he was trying very hard (and failing) to hold back.

He was about to say something but his eyes locked with yours and your voice in the note played in his head and he suddenly felt shy. Patrick Zweig, grade-A manwhore, was stuck in fight-or-flight when looking into a girl’s eyes. He recalled your words, your moan, and before he could stop himself, he kissed you hard and fast.

It was messy, sloppy, and filled with yearning.

It lasted a few seconds before he suddenly broke apart and asked you, voice hoarse:

“Did you mean it? What you said in the voice note?”

He seemed desperate, worried this was just a misunderstanding, worried he might ruin your friendship over a prank. But, God, you had awoken something in him, the revelation leaving him with no other choice than to face his feelings for you.

You nodded before forcing yourself to speak aloud:

“Absolutely”.

Patrick had never been so pathetic, never felt his knees so weak, at the sound of a voice. He was at your mercy, and finally saw you, truly saw you. He kissed you again.

“Say my name” he whispered between kisses. “Like you did in the voice note” he huffed.

Your voice came out needy and even more sensual than it was over the phone. You felt Patrick’s bulge against you as he moved his hands down from your arms to your legs, leaving a burning sensation across your skin that begged to be touched more.

You almost moaned in gratitude when he got rid of your clothes, as you wrapped your legs around him, the voice note you had left turning into a self fulfilling prophecy.

His movements turned softer and slower, but his voice came out raspy, his kisses still needy as he admired your entire body before fully embracing you.

Both you and Patrick would be lying if you said this wasn’t the best sex you’d ever had. Hearing you say his name, breathing in his neck, looking up at him sent him over the edge sooner than he’d have liked. But he certainly made sure you were also satisfied, which truthfully you had been from the moment his lips had crashed with yours.

When you were done, lying in your bed, limbs intertwined, breathing peacefully, it felt as though a burden had been lifted from both your shoulders.

Your face was burried in the crook of his neck, basking in his scent, while his fingers circled soothing figures on your arms and chest, eyes glued to your face.

Now that it was all over, the worries came flooding in. What would become of you two? Was this the result of the prank or was it the inevitable outcome of years of buried feelings? Did he even feel the same way? Were you two together now? You’d never seen Patrick commit to anyone before. Were you just another girl who ended up falling for him?

Patrick’s hand came up to caress your cheek and it was enough to quiet your mind. Your eyes looked up at him and something both painful and incredible tugged at his heart. Could you be his? Was he worthy of you?

“I can’t believe I was blind this whole time” he finally said, voice hoarse and low.

It sent butterflies flying into your lower abdomen.

“I can’t believe you either” you managed to joke, an unconfident smile tugging at your lips.

His fingers grazed your lips, like he was trying to turn them upwards.

“I’m serious. I’m not letting you go. I love you”.

Your eyes felt suddenly wet but you hid it by kissing his neck, cheeks, freckles and lips. He returned your kiss but it was hesitant. He stopped kissing you back to stare at you, expectantly.

Your heart hammered in your chest. Of course you loved him. You were just so worried he just… said that to ease your worries.

“I love you. I always have. I was just too stubborn to admit it to myself” he said again, eyes unwavering.

“I love you too, Pat” you finally said, a cheerful smile splitting your face.

Art and Patrick were attached at the hip. It made sense though, they were roommates for years. Their families are friends now. They spend breaks and summers on trips to europe or the carribean. Between the Zweig’s chalet in Geneva, the Donaldson’s villa in the Bahamas, the Zweig’s chateau in Nice, and the Donaldson’s beachfront house in St.Kitts, they were spoiled for options.

There were rumors going around that they share girls. You weren’t 100% sure what that meant but you could use your imagination. There were other rumors that they were actually dating each other but you weren’t sure about that either.

Your paths hadn’t crossed much in the almost 6 years you guys have been here. But tonight your best friend insisted you guys go clubbing tonight for your birthday. You liked to party from time to time but you’d try not to go overboard. Emphasis on try. But you were a party girl at heart.

You put on the white shirt and a sequin mini skirt. You finish your makeup and throw on some heels.

“should we pregame?” You ask fiddling with your hair in the mirror.

“nah we won’t need to,” your friend, Liz, says as she finishes zipping up her thigh high boots.

You raise an eyebrow. You know it’s been a minute since you went out but you’re pretty sure pregaming is still the most cost effective way to get drunk.

She continues as she stand up, “we’re going to Patrick and Art’s section tonight at Ikon.”

Oh.

“oh um- i-i didn’t know, i’ve never partied with them before,” you’re unsure why you’re nervous. You’ve been clubbing a million times. And it’s just Patrick and Art, how intimidating could they be.

She shrugs, “i’ve been out with them a few times, they’re super nice. they just always order bottles so there’s no point in pregaming with cheap stuff.”

You nod and follow her out the door.

When you guys get inside the club is already pretty packed. Sweaty bodies and sticky floors. You hold onto you friend hand as she drags you through the club and upstairs. Weaving through the masses.

You’ve never been to Ikon before, you usually frequent Barcelo or Kapital more. But so far you were liking the vibes.

Once you guys get to their section, your friend steps over the velvet rope and you follow suit.

There’s a ridiculous amount of people from school here, mainly girls but a few guys as well. There were a few champagne buckets with ice on the table. In them, so many bottles. Clase Azul, Dom Perignon, Don Julio. Oh wow, Liz was not joking.

She greats them each with a side hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“lizzzzzz, lizzie, you made it i’m so happy you came,” Art says. He’s definitely a little tipsy.

“couldn’t let you host without inviting the life of the party and the birthday girl,” She says gesturing to herself and you.

Patrick smirks. He’s holding a bottle of 1942 in his hand. He takes a swig before he says, “and who is this birthday girl you’ve brought with you?”

You’re nervous again. Why are you nervous? Fuck. They’re just two rich white boys, you need to pull it together. You take a breath and say, “y/n”

Art smiles and claps his hand on Patrick’s shoulder, “have you taken a shot yet? c’mon pat give her a shot. it’s her birthday.”

Patrick is more than happy to oblige. He walks over to you, holding the neck of the bottle, “c’mon birthday girl, say ah.”

A shot is exactly what you need to loosen up. You tilt your head back, opening your mouth. You move your hand to cup right under your mouth as a safeguard for any spillage.

“there you go, uh uh no hands baby,” He says. The butterflies in your stomach going crazy after he says that. But you move your hands nonetheless. He pours some tequila into your mouth. His aim wasn’t perfect so a little does dribble down your neck. He leans down to whisper by your ear, “good girl.”

And just like that he’s gone.

The rest of the night is really fucking blurry. Art and Patrick were giving out shots like water. If you ever had an empty cup it was filled within minutes. If you were dancing so you hadn’t had a drink in a minute, Patrick of Art were there in seconds. They didn’t even have to tell you what to do anymore. You instinctively tilt your head back and open your mouth everytime they approach you with a bottle in their hand. Their excuse being “it’s your birthday, can’t let you go thirsty”

There’s a moment where you walk back to the table in the section that Patrick and Art are sitting at. They’ve got a few lines of coke on the table, Art going first. So Patrick is the first one that spots you and gestures for you to sit next to him.

“enjoying yourself birthday girl?” Patrick smirks. But before you have a chance to answer, Art is passing him the very tightly rolled $100 bill for Patrick to do his lines. So Art steps in to fill the conversation.

“hey having fun?” He smiles a big goofy smile. He’s actually kind of cute. And a decent contrast to more chill Patrick Zweig. But you haven’t really gotten to know them yet so you’ll hold back on the assumptions for now.

You nod slowly, fearful that too much head movement sitting down would make you dizzy, “so much fun, you guys are good hosts so that makes it better.”

Patrick sits back up and wipes his nose. He turns his head to look at you, “where are my manners? did you want?” He asks gesturing to the half empty tiny plastic baggy on the table.

You shake your head no laughing, “i tried it once and I just threw up all over the place so i’ll pass”

He nods in understanding. You notice he has his hand on Art’s thigh as he keeps talking to you, “good birthday so far?”

You nod smiling, “best birthday so far.”

“good i’m glad we could make that happen for you,” He says leaning into your personal space bubble. If you don’t know any better you’d think he’s trying to kiss you, there’s just one more question you want to ask first.

“you and Art seem pretty close,” You say, not creating any distance between the two of you. If anything you lean in closer. You keep eye contact with Patrick. You can see the gears turning in his head as he thinks of how he should answer that.

He smirks, he does that a lot you’ve noticed, “do you wanna see just how close we are?”

You nod biting your lip, but you’re not 100% sure if this is going where you think it’s going.

He sits back up turning his head to Art’s direction. He puts his hand on Art’s chin making Art face him, pulling Art away from whatever side conversation he was having. And he pulls him in for a kiss. It’s slow and sloppy, expected since they’re both kind of drunk at this point. Art kisses Patrick back with no hesitation, so they’ve done this before.

When Patrick pulls away from the kiss he turns back to you while Art goes back to his side conversation. A smirk plastered right back on his face, “does that answer your question?”

“so the rumors are true? you guys are together?”

Patrick laughs. He actually laughs so hard he throws his head back. When he finishes his laughing fit, he turns back to you to say, “fuck no I am not dating blondie, we just like to have fun.”

They just like to have fun. Have fun? So do they share girls? It’s another rumor you heard and it sounds like something someone who likes to have fun would do.

Before you can think on it anymore your body is spewing out the words, “so do you guys share girls?” No reference to the rumor at all, so it almost sounds like you’re asking for yourself.

Now that peaks Patrick’s interest. So maybe it is true? He leans down by your ear again to whisper, “do you want to find out?”

That’s how you end up in their dorm room at 3am.

Initially you didn’t want to leave your friend Liz behind but apparently she had already left with another which she sent you a text about an hour ago. Wow you really don’t check your phone when you’re drunk.

The three of you waste no time taking off your clothes. It’s been a minute since you’ve had sex with one person, let alone two.

You noticed they had pushed both their beds together, very interesting. Patrick and Art start making out on their bed, Patrick is lying down and Art is on top of him.

You’re not sure where you should jump in until Patrick grabs Art’s curls pushing his head down to come face to face with Patrick’s cock. Once Art starts sucking, Patrick gestures for you to straddle him.

You climb on top of him and he pulls you down for a kiss. It’s slow and sensual, like he’s trying to explore your mouth with his tongue.

Art pulls off Patrick’s dick and moves his focus to your pussy. Since it’s right in his face now, he can’t really resist. He lazily continues jerking Patrick off as he licks up the crease of your folds.

He licks up and down, making sure to go down far enough to lick at your clit too. The he comes back up to push his tongue inside of you.

“oh fuck,” You moan into Patrick’s mouth.

Patrick pulls away from the kiss biting your bottom lip, “make sure you’re getting her ready for us.” You assumed he was talking to Art and on cue Art stuck two fingers inside of you, making you gasp.

Patrick moves his hands so one is grabbing your ass while the other is cupping your breast, toying with your nipple.

You being moved into a different position but you can’t tell where Patrick body ends and Art’s body begins. You’re not sure whose hands are where but now you’re on your on your hands and knees with Art in front of your face and Patrick behind you.

You’re looking up at Art as he drags his tip against your lips, smearing his pre cum around.

“fuck, you’re really fucking pretty,” Art breathes out.

At the same time Patrick had already rolled on a condom and was teasing your entrance, “don’t get all sappy on me now donaldson. c’mon y/n say ah”

As soon as you hear the phrase you’ve gotten acquainted to over the course of the night, it’s like muscle memory and your mouth opens.

Art and Patrick pushing into you at the same time from opposite is a euphoric feeling you don’t think you’ll ever forget.

Patrick hands gripping your hips as he fucks into you. Art’s hands tangles in your hair as he thrusts into your mouth. Patrick bruising your cervix, while Art bruises the back of your throat.

There are some differences between the two of them. Art is very whiny. He whines alot as he thrusts in and out of your mouth, mumbling over and over about how good you’re making him feel. While Patrick is more of a groan-er. He groans and moans as he fucks himself in and out of you, saying how well you’re taking his cock and what a good girl you are.

They went back and forth saying stuff like:

“holy fuck, you’re so fucking tight.”

“fuck, shit, love seeing your lips wrapped around my cock”

“taking my cock so well,” They both said that in unison at the same time. Kinda freaky. But it added to that pit in your stomach that was building towards your orgasm.

All you could do was moan around Art’s cock that was shoved down your throat. Art’s shoved your face towards his pelvis almost suffocating you and you’re not sure why at first, until you hear kissing?

They’re making out above you. At least you can check eiffel tower of some sorts off of your bucket list.

You can feel both of their thrusts start to stutter, they’re close. They pull away from their kiss and you hear Art say, “fuck baby I’m gonna cum, i’m gonna—.” You feel his release shoot deep down your throat before he pulls out. And you swallow it all down.

When Art cums you feel your orgasm rip through your body but it feels different, “im cumming—“ You moan as your body contracts and there’s a rush of liquid. Patrick pulls out halfway as you squirt all over his dick. “jesus fuck,” He moans.

He was already on the edge but your tight hole squeezing around his cock mixed with the visuals of you squirting on his cock pushed him over the edge, “shit im gonna cum—“ He releases inside you before he pulls out and ties off the condom.

Art had already fallen asleep on his side of the bed but you couldn’t really blame him because he was drunk.

You’re not sure if you should leave and try to sneak back into the girls dorms or if you should stay. Patrick comes back and hands you a rag so you can clean up.

“thanks,” You say with shy smile, unsure why you’re feeling like you’re sobering up a little.

He offers a soft smile, “you know you can stay if you want, i wouldn’t kick you out.”

You gesture to the soiled bedsheets on what you assume is Patrick’s side of the bed, “sorry about the mess, i can help you clean up.”

He lets out a small laugh, “don’t apologize that was fucking hot, you do that often?”

You offer a smirk this time, “wanna find out?”

You both have to carry Art’s passed out body onto the sofa while you guys change the sheets. When Art wakes up the next morning to find new sheets on his bed, Patrick ignores all his questions about it, insisting that “it’s better if y/n just shows you what happened.”

✦ older pornstar!patrick who’s fallen off from relevancy. he still books gigs, still gets offers, but his manager’s already warning him that he’s being overtaken by young talent. no one’s really watching for older guys, anymore (“if you dressed in drag, you might bring in views as a milf,” his manager joked once. zweig didn’t laugh). it’s unfortunate, but people want youth. they want naivety and inexperience. they want to see it corrupted.

that’s where you come in.

✦ older pornstar!patrick who watched one video with you in it and decided you were his meal ticket. not that you were impressive, no— he’s seen bigger tits, a rounder butt, a better smile, and prettier eyes. you weren’t the hottest by a longshot. but you were fresh blood. young. and you had a certain hunger that couldn’t be replicated. not to mention how human you were. none of the fake, high pitched bitching he’d unfortunately grown used to over the years, no, you were real. as close to real as possible, at least, while filming amateur porn for twitter.

✦ older pornstar!patrick who got your attention when he promised lots of money (if the video did well) and a better set with real equipment (your videos all look like they were filmed on a nokia or something). he promises that it’s only oral, that he’ll just lay back and let you work on him. he swears he won’t pull your hair, either.

✦ older pornstar!patrick who sends you pictures of himself. then he sends close ups of his dick— he’s girthy, a bit longer than what you’re used to, but he’s clean cut. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t interested in fucking an actual porn star and not some douche from tinder for once.

✦ older pornstar!patrick who can’t get it up by the time you’re ready to shoot. embarrassment doesn’t exist for zweig, who only glances at you with a sleazy half-smirk along his lips. the only thing his cock manages is a small twitch as patrick takes in your expression; eyes narrowed, half-annoyed because he can’t get hard and half-upset because you think it’s your fault. you’re still too young to understand that a boner isn’t the end all be all of attraction. “oh, don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, reaching down to stroke himself gingerly, “it’s not you, sweetheart, i promise.”

zweig huffs before holding his length still. “just suck me soft,” he suggests, though it’s less of a suggestion and more of an order judging by the way he gently slaps your cheek with his tip. “that’ll be hot. for me, anyways.”

✦ older pornstar!patrick who gets hard halfway through you sucking him, his cock pulsing in your mouth. “there we go," he croons, satisfaction coloring his voice. "that's more like it. look at you, a natural-born cock whisperer.” his hand reaches for your head, fingers snaking through your hair as he pushes you just a little further down on his dick. “perfect,” he groans softly, letting his head roll back. “i always know talent when i see it. didn’t even need to feel it to know you could do magic with that mouth. this is just proof.”

✦ older pornstar!patrick who tells you to look at the camera over your shoulder after he comes on your face. fuck, you look ruined. cum dribbles down your skin, your eyes wet and teary from handling his girth. flushed cheeks, almost pouty lips (you don’t like being told what to do, do you?). it’s more than perfect. when the camera stops rolling he scoops you up from between his legs and sets you on his right thigh. one hand holds the small of your back while the other cleans your face off with a nearby towel. it’s as close to kind as zweig can handle being. “you could go far,” he begins to coo in your ear, “you’d need a mentor, though. someone older to show you the ropes. and cover you in ropes. tie you up in ropes…” the smoothness of his voice trails, fizzling into nothing but tension before he slowly winks and presses a kiss to your forehead. “have your agent talk to my agent. if you’re interested, that is, in being a real star.”

✦ older pornstar!patrick whose got a filthy fucking mouth— worse than you’d imagined. he has a thing for describing in detail what he’s going to do to you and how. sprinkled in are his little nicknames for you: fucktoy, baby, dirty thing, sweetheart, slut, his favorite star, and a bunch of other variations. you’re allowed to call him mr. zweig, patrick or pat. he tends to favor pat when he’s feeling fond of you. when he’s mad, calling him mr. zweig can help appease him.

✦ older pornstar!patrick who does take care of you, in his own way. a whopper after filming, for instance, or staying on set while you shoot a flick with another pornstar just to make sure you’re safe. he’s quick to step in when you look uncomfortable. he’s also quick to step in when he thinks there’s unnecessary action happening between you and someone else. for better or worse, you’re his in a sense, bound to him as you climb the ladder of sexual fame.

✦ older pornstar!patrick who’s as good a director as he is a starring actor. he understands the industry from both sides, which is why you ought to stick with him. he knows just how to frame the camera and just how to position you. with each of your new films, he’s at least two of the following: creator, male lead, and viewer.

just a little au i thought of while on vacay… i don’t know what art & tashi r up to, i imagine patrick was a super popular pornstar like, enough for even everyday people to know him. he might have gotten some minor acting gigs, too. he was born for the camera, regardless, and he sees that in you.

You could just sink your teeth into his thighs and watch him look down at you from his place on the bed. He’d have that smug ass grin on his face, full dimples on display. He would cradle your face with his big hand, calloused by all the years of playing tennis, and use his thumb to toy with your bottom lip. He would then pull until you open up for him and let the small weight of his thumb settle and press into the softness of your tongue.