#summersmut

art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

summary: the three of you, best friends, are up at a cottage for a bit. as the edibles you took kick in, playful conversation turns into playful banter, turns into a common ground realization. one that sets the tone for the rest of the night.

warnings: smut, obviously! lots of kissing. threesome. art x reader, patrick x reader, art x patrick. thigh riding. handjob, oral m!receiving. slight dom x dom x sub! attitude and tone. patrick fucks art. multiple orgasms. creampie. some fluff. implied romantic tension between reader and Art.

It was a warm Friday night, the breeze the perfect contrast to the mid- summer air. It was like any other Friday, where you usually ended up doing everything and nothing with your two best friends, Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig.

This particular Friday was calmer than most. The three of you lay on Patrick’s bed in the cottage you’d spent so many summers before, his uncle away on a fishing trip allowing you three to use it for a weekend. You’d each popped a badly-made, oily weed gummy. Supposed to be strong. You lay with your face to the ceiling, your head resting on Art’s stomach while your legs draped over Patrick’s thighs. Unconventional, but comfortable.

The light was warm-toned and dim, the atmosphere was quiet. There was something in the air, in the silence that Patrick now broke. “Who were your first kisses?” He asked. Silence. You smiled.

“Y/N,” Art answered, after a second, turning his head to gesture.

“Really?” Patrick said, moving a little bit toward you both so that your thighs now lay over his hips, readjusted.

You smiled to yourself, “Yeah. Grade seven, before he went off to MRTA.” The memory was sweet, but mostly an inside joke with Art. You were friends that way. “He was whining over all his friends having their first kisses so I… kissed him.”

“I didn’t whine,” Art replied sheepishly, relaying it back to himself, “But y’know, it wasn’t awkward the way it was supposed to be, it was kind of good.” He chuckled.

“That’s because I had experience in that field already.” You smiled wider, a playful confidence to your voice, turning your head back toward Patrick. “My first kiss was Johnny Brown at the beginning of grade eight. Art was at the end of grade eight.”

Patrick held his hands out flat to the air, “You’re saying Art here, THE Art Donaldson wasn’t kissed until the end of grade eight? He wasn’t getting babes his whole life?” Patrick was using the word ‘babe’ ironically (now), after a conversation you three had yesterday about things to call women.

You laughed and you heard Art let out a breath of mock-hurt, air passing through his lips, blowing the curls that rested on his forehead. You fought the full-set grin that threatened to spread up your face. “He was not getting babes his whole life. Are you calling me a babe?”

“Sure,” Art shrugged from where he was. You blew your hair out of your face. “What about you, Pat? Your first kiss?”

Patrick looked upward, “Do we get a first kiss for guys and girls, or is it just one?”

“Mmm- it’s whoever came first out of everyone,” you replied. “Ooh my girl first kiss, stop, that’s Alice Maybank.” You gasped, laughing.

Art, remembering the girl, laughed too. “Hellspawn.”

“So bad. Probably because she was a closeted twelve year old,” you theorized. “Does it count as a first kiss if it’s another gender?”

“Hell yeah,” Patrick replied as if it was common sense. Probably should’ve been. “I think there should be one for both, but a technical first.”

Art nodded in agreement slowly, eyes trained on the wood-panelled wall, lips pressed together in thought.

“Art’s realizing I was his first.” Patrick noted.

“Once.” Art rebutted, not truly all into discussing this matter. It wasn’t like it was bad or anything, just… fresh. And in front of you…

“Are you saying it meant nothing?” Patrick pretended to be offended, hitting himself in the chest and going limp. It seemed to break Art out of that protective little shell when you laughed at it.

Art reached over and grabbed Patrick’s arm in return, leaning into the bit. “It was everything to me. Come home, the kids miss you.”

“Oh, Donaldson…” Patrick pretended to swoon. You couldn’t breathe, you were laughing so hard. Your loss of breath worsened when the two continued the bit, both moving in for a kiss, but swerving last second. Soon all three of you were laughing pretty hard. Now that you thought about it, the edibles you three took earlier were probably kicking in. That explained the mad giggling.

Patrick tried to speak through his dying laugh, “My first kiss- was the summer before grade seven. Her name was Amber Wiley and she thought kissing was only tongue.”

“Yeah, I remember you saying that,” Art responded. “Reminds me of-“

“Penny and John.” Patrick finished with a knowing clap. The boys had a longtime joke about the couple most known at their tennis school for the most revolting PDA, you’d frankly heard more than enough. The mutual giggle filled the room again. Your body was starting to feel a bit airy.

You tried to breathe through it, “Oh that’s not fun,” your nose crinkled as you moved to lay between the men, your hand resting on Patrick’s chest for a moment before you sat up, just a little bit suddenly. Both boys sat up just because you did. “What about virginities?” You grinned.

“Oh fuck,” Patrick deadpanned. “Yikes. Y/N, you go first this time.” His smile couldn’t stay at bay, his dimples creeping up on him.

You chuckled, recalling it. “Jeff Lyonne. God, it was terrible, I broke up with him a few weeks after, before he tried it again. It was… mid-freshman year. One of my biggest regrets honestly.”

“That guy was a douche anyways.” Art snorted. “Not like I have a say, though. I lost mine to Sarah Greene.”

“No fucking way, which one?” Patrick actually sat up. “I lost mine to Sarah Greene.”

“I don’t know, blonde, kind of nice,” your eyes flickered between Patrick and Art. “Had this birthmark on her-“

“Left tit? Yeah, that’s her.”

Silence for a second. “You lost your virginities to the same girl and didn’t talk about it?” You asked, stifling a laugh. “Holy fuck.” There was a burning in the pit of your stomach. Odd. New. Familiar?

“When?” Patrick asked.

“Around the same time Y/N did. Mid-freshman year for me. We weren’t dating or anything either.”

“Jesus Christ,” Patrick laughed, putting his hands against his face. “That would be the same time she did me.” The same burning, stronger. Art sat up, so you took the cue to sit up as well. You sat cross-legged, taking in this information. “We fucked the same girl. We lied to Tashi for sure. How did we not talk about it?”

“I shut it out, honestly. I told you about the second girl, though.”

You tried to stop yourself from laughing. “I’ve never known you two to have the same taste aside from during the Tashi situation.” You felt Art’s hand loosely fall on your thigh. Casual. Like it was said before, there was something in the air that night. Art’s hand should not have made you feel the way you were beginning to feel. “That’s so crazy. I mean, the tennis academy is small but not that small. She was visiting?”

“Co-op games,” Patrick nodded. “Same girl same time period. Do you think it could have been the same day?”

“Definitely not, definitely not,” Art replied. “Would be funny if we fucked the same girl on the same day though.”

You looked at Art’s hand for a second, then at Patrick to see that he was looking at the same thing. Art’s hand on your thigh. Art’s fingertips pressed lightly into the pillow of your skin- just a little, and you watched Patrick’s lips part. It was almost in reaction… Your body rose higher.

It fell silent. All you could hear were the crickets outside. And in another beat, the air was hotter than it had been before.

You made eye contact with Art for a moment. Being friends for so long, there were boundaries, ones you knew. But tonight was different in an unspoken way. And he looked at your lips, eyelashes perfect as his eyes settled on your mouth. He looked soft, sweet, easy. You were all sitting so close, it was made easy. Or it was made hard to ignore.

Patrick had his eyes on Art, but he slowly moved his head first, then his gaze onto you, before smirking a little bit knowingly. He glanced back at Art, who was still very focused on you. The closeness. It dawned on them too. The slow hush of the edible was kicking in.

You moved a little closer, unnoticeable to Patrick’s eyes looking at Art, “Hey Pat,” you said, voice quiet. And the moment- the second he turned his head toward you, you grabbed the back of his head and you kissed him.

His lips were a little rough, but not in the way where you’d ever mind it. It took him only a moment to realize what was happening and kiss you back. Oh, he was good. Your hands travelled his neck, coming down to hold his jaw. His hands found your chest, your waist, strong, pulling you close to him.

Your other hand snuck down his chest, finding Art’s hand with ease, his fingertips digging deeper as he watched. Your fingers interlocked, then unlocked, your gentle pull luring him closer as your lips continued to lock with Patrick’s. It slowed naturally, your lower lip released from his teeth as you pulled away. It was only seconds before your lips met Art’s.

His lips were always soft. He was minty, but sweet, and his lips seemed to melt against yours. It was the easiest thing, but you felt it in your fingertips? You’d kissed Art a few times since your first kiss in grade eight- spin the bottle, drunk, truth or dare, bored- however, this kiss was different.

“Fuck,” you heard Patrick whisper from beside you. You smiled into the kiss with Art, mouths in sync, his hands gently cupping your face while your hands knotted in his t-shirt. Patrick was good, Art was better. Funny, you were just kissing all your best friends today.

And your best friends were doing the same.

Art pulled away this time, both boys not wasting a single second. Kissing, touching, pulling hair, clothes. You pushed your hair over your shoulders, watching them. So this is what’s happening now.

Patrick looked to you, your hand still holding a fistful of your own hair upon your head. Art looked a little dazed, kissing two people in the span of 80 seconds. “What are we doing?” He asked, looking between you and Patrick, expression soft. A little doe-eyed.

“Y/N?” Patrick breathed, a smirk at play on his upper lip, tugging, twitching. You could see in his eyes he seemed to know what was about to happen. Art looked at you, almost embarrassed, peeking through his eyelashes.

You let your hair fall as you said your words. “Fucking the same girl. On the same day.”

You watched both Art and Patrick react to your words as if they were physical. Patrick slumped down a little bit, smiling a small smile, and Art looked like if he didn’t hear those words in time, he might’ve ceased to exist, breathing out like he was saved by the bell. Your heart was beating out of your chest, determined. On fire.

Both reactions were positive- and so with force, you kissed Patrick again, harder, hard enough to push him onto his back again, letting yourself fall over him. His hands snaked around your waist and pulled your lower half against him, while your bent knees allowed for you to push against him where he wanted. He was already hard.

You pressed against him again, giggling as he groaned lightly into your mouth. It was satisfying, the sound of his approval, the feel of it underneath you. Hot, heavy, tongues allowing light dips, your head curling to tip his back.

He made a noise like a hum, breaking the kiss to breathe hard. You giggled again, trailing your hand down his chest as Art pulled you toward him. You happily followed his direction, kissing him again. It was soft, easy, yet starved. You rolled onto your side, kissing him as he kissed your mouth, then your jaw, then your neck… Trailing…

His gentle hand cupped your left breast, then softly traced down down your chest, your stomach. Art was a boob guy, this was a known fact. When you’d made out with him before this is exactly how it went except- he’d never taken off your sweater before. He pulled it up over your head and tossed it across the room, you swore your heart accelerated tenfold. The sound of the wool hitting the wall sent chills down your spine.

With a grin, Patrick filled the empty time by tilting Art’s head up, kissing him over your nearly-bare upper body.

You couldn’t believe this was happening, maybe it was the weed. This was kind of fun. But then again, you’d always had sexual tension, so it wasn’t any surprise that it was fun. Anyone who knew the three of you knew it was only a matter of time before one of you fucked the other. It just happened to be now. Together.

Patrick’s fingers found the hem of Art’s shirt and pulled it up, off. God, he was gorgeous, smooth and soft, gentle muscle definition. You tilted your head just slightly, watching as the boys kissed, tongues visible as they tried each other’s mouths. Art was so pretty like this… You could date Art… maybe. Huh. You knew exactly where this was going.

Patrick had Art by the back of his neck, holding him in a kiss that made you bite your lip. You had really hot best friends, there wasn’t any other way to put it. And lucky you, Art pulled away to put his focus back on your chest. He kissed your collarbone, his hand grazing over your chest with gentle fingers. You inhaled sharply, reacting, taking each movement in with your own motion. It was easy to melt into, but you were met with Patrick’s lips, hungry. He kept you busy while Art kissed down onto your breasts, nipping a little to make you hum. This was happening.

It was silent, aside from small breaths and the moving of the comforter beneath you all. You lightly pulled Patrick’s hair and in return, his lips also strayed from your mouth, leaving along with his body, leaving that gap. Unwanted. Unneeded. You grabbed him by his belt before he could go any further and while Art kissed down to your stomach, you began to undo Patrick’s buckle.

Belt open, you undid his zipper with a blind eye as you pulled Art up to your mouth again by his hair. He moaned into your mouth as you pulled him over you, using both your hands to undo the loop of his jeans. Goosebumps spread your body at the sound. It was somewhere between a whine and a soft moan. He sounded so pretty, too pretty. His body pressed against yours, propped up on his arms. You could feel his bicep flexed as your hands travelled his body. The sounds he made when your leg wrapped around him played over and over in your head as Patrick pulled Art back to him. And you let the boys kiss again, both of them discarding their pants, leaving you the most dressed in the room. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself.

They kissed until Patrick pushed Art onto his back. You didn’t think Art was all that into guys, but it was Patrick, so…

You took the time to take off your shorts, now equal to everyone else in a sense. Your whole body was hot, despite you complaining about the temperature and cold breeze through the open window not even thirty minutes ago. You couldn’t help but giggle softly.

Patrick then made the next move, and firmly cupped Art’s dick through his boxers. Casual, almost, but Art squeaked and fuck, that was enough to set both you and Patrick off. You slid your hand down overtop the material of your underwear, pressing lightly just to tide yourself over as the two of them went into a new, more clothing-less state of being.

Patrick already had Art’s dick in his hand, stroking up and down while he had his other hand on his own doing almost the same. You saw the opportunity. Art on his back, Patrick on his side you leaned over and looked Patrick in the eyes. “I’ve got this part.” You told him. There was fire in the way he looked at you. Pleased, almost, by the collaboration and he took his hand off of his own erection, entrusting you to the activity.

Art couldn’t help the noise he made watching you go down on Patrick. The second you swirled your tongue around, both sounds from Patrick and Art intensified. You liked that chain reaction. All these things you thought you’d never witness… not at the same time. Truthfully you really never thought about sucking Patrick off, he had a supernspecific type that he rarely let himself go out of. You were pleased to fall under that percent of women outside the bracket who he would let touch him this way. It was kind of funny.

Your head bobbed and he groaned loudly while Art moaned. A chain reaction, as every time you did something to Patrick a certain way, he’d react by gripping or jerking Art off tighter, harder. It was really only a matter of time before Art finished, Patrick following suit just a moment or two later. Both of them were breathing hard as you wiped your mouth, slyly sucking your fingers.

“Fuck,” Art groaned, propped up on his forearms, his head tilted downwards, his hair in his face. He was so gorgeous like this. Patrick’s hand rested on your thigh as they both tried to recover. This was mostly your doing, and you loved it.

You felt Patrick’s hand leave your thigh just a moment later ane he leaned over the bed to rustle with a bag of his.

You leaned over to Art, “You okay, pretty?” You asked. He was still regaining his breath.

He nodded slightly, pushing his hair out of his face to look at you with those eyes that looked a mixture of pleading and devilish wanting. He moved against the wall, just for better support. Patrick continued digging through his bag, taking his time- so you swung your leg over Art’s waist.

Your clothed cunt hit pressed against his now-sensitive tip and he took a sharp inhale. Like instinct, his hands found their spot around your waist. He looked up at you, half-confused, half lustful. “We’re going to fuck,” Art concluded, like the sentence was a foot on his chest. “The three of us.”

His hands gently pulled you down against him again. The fabric between made for friction and he tried his best to appear unaffected. You nodded. “Mhm.”

“Can you treat me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re going to fuck me.” He said, swallowing hard, eyes looking away like it’s almost something he’s too shy to say. That shift in both you and Patrick settled into a click. He looked over. “I want you to talk to me like that, and act-“ He doesn’t let himself say much more. You can feel his pulse hammering.

“I can do that.” You nodded again, slowly moving your hips back and forth. His fingertips dug into the flesh of your waist. You want to do that.What he says is cryptic, but his eyes made it clear as day, he wants to be talked to, wants to be given everything you would give to another prospective partner. He wants to have it all done to him. Patrick read the room like it’s a picture book.

“You don’t look so good,” you grinned, moving from grinding on his dick to sitting on his thigh. “What do you think, Pat?” You asked, looking over at Patrick over your shoulder.

“Far gone.” Patrick said, moving over, closer. “All you.”

“I was about to.” You grinned, turning back to Art. And you let it come naturally, “Pretty boy. Already gone?” The rumours about Art being a sex king at school were most definitely untrue. You wrapped your hand around his dick, gently, but firmly.

“Y/N,” Art said, tilting his head up to look at you where you were perched with his leg between yours. “Please.”

“Mmmm, no.” You replied, slowly moving your hand up and down his length. You felt your hair move over, away from your neck, Patrick’s gentle, bare fingers making way, lips meeting your neck and shoulder. Gentle kisses, but the teeth following were what made it so electrifying. It sent shivers down your body.

Your hand moved up and down, faster as you pushed against his thigh with your clothed core. Patrick’s hands travelled down your shoulder, onto your back to the clasp of your bra.

Art groaned, “Please.” He said again. And you let him go, but that’s not what he wanted. Patrick’s hands that replaced your bra were too much. Squeezing as you ground down on Art’s thigh. You moaned quietly as Art whined at loss of contact.

Patrick leaned over your shoulder again, “I think you should fuck our boy over here. He’s getting kind of desperate.”

“So desperate,” you echoed. The edible was making your head spin. You craved the friction as it slowed. Art looked at you with eyes that wanted you. And it only made sense after this long that you moved over him again. “You want me, Art?”

“So badly,” he replied, gazing up at you like you were a star.

“How long have you wanted me?” You asked, removing your underwear.

“Years.” He replied, a little too quickly. That was much longer than you’d thought. You watched him, eyes unsure of what to look at, overwhelmed. “Fuck, just please-“ And before he could finish speaking, you sank down onto him. He let out a moan that sent chills down your skin.

“Fuck,” said Patrick. You smiled, slowly raising yourself up and down on Art’s dick. Rising, sinking. Oh my god, he felt good. Thick, but not too much, filling you perfectly. Art grabbed the back of your thighs, holding on for what seemed to be dear life. You hummed a moan. “Waiting for this one, hm, Donaldson?”

“Fuck you,” Art said through his teeth, peering over at Patrick who was now stroking himself as he watched. You picked up pace and Art shut his eyes tight.

You shook your head, “What did you say? Sorry I can’t hear you through all the… moaning you’re doing.” You stifled your own sounds just to taunt him, giggling .

“Fuck you too,” Art said, trying to hide his slight smile.

“Other way around,” you said, bouncing harder, faster. Art was pink in the nose and cheeks, flushed and blushing, his hair falling in his face. That smile fell, lips parting.

“Jesus- fuck,” you heard Patrick beside you. Good to know the content wasn’t boring.

“Poor Art,” You said, breathing out through pursed lips to keep control of yourself. “Seems like we’re ganging up against you, hm?” You kissed his partially open mouth. He whined. “So sorry.” You added.

Patrick groaned loudly. You had to finish Art off before Patrick finished himself off. You sped up, bouncing faster. You pushed yourself against Art and he managed to kiss your bare chest. It faltered your bouncing as you bit your lip to stay quieter. You needed to keep going, you pushed yourself entirely onto Art as you bounced, taking him in full every time. He was just slightly oversized for you, making it easy to feel good on him.

He pushed through you every time, fingers grasping at you, breathing hard, moaning and whining and squeezing what he could. His eyes shut tight some moments, gazing over your face. His eyes flickered over your entire body the next, eyes trailing over where you were connecting, watching your hip muscles grind as you went. His hand found the place between your stomach and thigh, slipping between, feeling it open and close as you moved against him. On him.

And you felt him spill into you. No warning, no anything. But that’s what happened when you fucked someone so senseless. “God- you-“ he huffed- “That was-“ You pushed yourself up and down him a few more times before getting off of him entirely. And he grabbed at your waist, but you pressed your finger to his lips.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yes. You’re so-“ he breathed, unable to find the words, to catch his breath. His dick was pink, hard, wet, and slowly getting less hard as he came down. “Perfect. That was perfect.”

You planted a kiss on his open mouth, then once more when he was ready. And he gestured toward Patrick, “Think he needs you.” He grinned. You turned, smiling playfully.

“Need some help?” You asked breathlessly, to a breathless Patrick.

“Please,” he said, smug, gesturing to his dick like a seat. Asshole. He kissed you first, before guiding your body down onto him. “Fuck, you are perfect.” He groaned. You grinned, pulling his bottom lip with your teeth.

He was slightly bigger than Art in girth, taking you longer to adjust to than before. You couldn’t take all of it at first, keeping slow, drawn out. Art’s hand gently traced your upper thigh, where the muscle was tensing in order to raise yourself up and down on Patrick. You were aware of his eyes, settled kindly on you both, watching like art.

Patrick’s hand cupped your breast, squeezing gently as you pushed yourself up and down on him. It helped you sink down on him further. You moaned into his mouth and he seemed to like that, repeating that motion every other time you went up and down on him. A few seconds passed before without warning, Patrick pushed himself upward and you back, so that you landed flat on your back on the bed and he was over you.

“You’re sure it’s okay that we don’t have protection?” Patrick asked. He was the most sensible one here, you and Art were already somewhat lost to the craze and heat.

“I’m sure. Art’s already finished in me,” you replied, humming as Patrick slowly pushed back into you. “You can too if you want, I don’t mind.” You joked. He smiled.

You looked over at Art, still against the wall. He was deflated now, but he looked well-over fucked out. Too bad it wasn’t over. “You okay, Art?” Patrick asked, slowly moving in and out of you at the same time.

“Mmm yeah, m’fine,” he replied. “I’m gonna get water, I’m high and my throat is-“

“You’re not staying?” Patrick replied, casual as ever. “Sure you don’t mind us in here?”

“No, no, go ahead. Fuck, I don’t wanna get hard again yet,” Art chuckled quietly as he left Patrick's room for a brief bit. He was genuine. He meant it.

“Might need you back,” Patrick said.

“I’ll come back,” Art said, smiling, spinning, and walking out the door. He was totally gone. You laughed a little, but it turned into a moan as Patrick suddenly started thrusting into you, hard. Your hands found themselves around him, your eyes shut tight. The impact of skin on skin was suddenly very loud.

His nose pressed to yours, "You're the only one who hasn't finished tonight," he said, gruff, low.

You couldn't find the words to agree, you just tried to nod as the pleasure built somewhere inside of you, picking up almost from where Art had left you. An advance.

“I didn’t think I’d ever fuck you.” Patrick continued, breathing shallowly. “I thought you and Art definitely would, but not me.”

“It’s a friend thing,” you said, breathing out hard, then smiling. “Don’t say you don’t find me attractive though.”

“I definitely do, just not romantically.” He replied, moving a little faster, “You’re not ugly, you have nice tits, it’s not- fuck- horrible.”

You rolled your eyes and you almost rolled them back at the same time, “Thanks a-oh my god!” You couldn’t finish your own sentence. Patrick was good. “You aren’t so bad looking either.” You kept joking. The friendly banter as Patrick fucked you was well-needed and made it… fun. It was hot and fun and you never knew you needed that. Your pleasure climbed, you were almost there and Patrick started slowing. And Art came back.

“No, Patrick, don’t stop-“ you said. But he just kept getting slower and you tried to move your hips but the high was gone, unchaseable. You felt it pulse strong, then less, then less. “Fuck, you guys…” you groaned. “Come on.”

“Main event,” Patrick said. Art looked at you for a moment, eyes still lustful and hungry. “Art, come help me out.” Patrick ordered. He pulled Art in by his arm, kissing him roughly, hungrily. You stared at the ceiling, your hand migrating to help yourself but Patrick caught it before you could do anything.

“Hey-” he said, clicking his tongue. He looked back to Art. “You want to come back into this? I don’t think we’re done with you,” he said. And your dominant side slowly returned- suddenly you didn’t care about your orgasm anymore. Who knew playing with your best friends was so fulfilling?

Art shut his eyes and you watched his dick rise back to action, pressing at his boxers. “Fuck, I don’t know if I can-“

“You will,” you told him, getting a little closer. “But tell us no and we’ll stop right here.”

“I- I want to, I want- but I don’t know if I can handle it,” he swallowed hard. You got up onto your knees, understanding Patrick’s plan slowly through the look he gave you. You got closer to Art and his eyelids lowered as you held his face. You kissed him gently, slowly, softly, and leaned him forward until he was over you. He’d already finished twice, you were asking for a third.

You pulled away, “Make me feel good.” You told him. “I haven’t finished once tonight I want you to be the one to make me.”

He looked high and drunk. “I will- fuck- yes…”

“Come inside me again.” You permissed. He guided himself to your entrance and slowly pushed in. “You fill me so nicely, Art.” He slowly thrusted in and out. You moaned softly, fist tight around the curls at the back of his head. You knew things were about to get a lot crazier, like it hung in the air.

Patrick knew what he was doing. “Art,” he said, positioning himself behind Art as he fucked into you softly. Art ‘mmm’ed a response and you could feel Patrick’s smirk as if it was a tangible presence. “Can I fuck you?”

Art stopped for a second. “Me?” He almost sounded embarrassed, as if he hadn’t been jerked off twice by both you and Patrick and fucked by you in front of Patrick in the past hour.

“It’ll take a second to get used to, but it’s nothing new to the world, I promise. I just put a condom on, it’s extra lube.”

“New to me,” Art grumbled, slightly humiliated. You felt his dick pulse and twitch while he thought it over.

You whispered, “You don’t have to. It’s a lot. Whatever makes you feel good, comfortable.”

He looked over your face. You kissed his jaw once, gently. Art inhaled sharply, admitting. “Yes. Yeah. Okay.” He took another deep breath, slower this time. “We can try.”

Patrick clicked his tongue. “Alright then. Let’s see how you handle this.” Bodies mingle above you, Patrick’s hands finding a place on Art’s sides. It was slow, the process for them- And you knew exactly when Patrick was in by the way Art’s muscles tightened. And Art let out a very pained and pleasured moan, head falling against your chest. You grinned.

And it wasn’t Art that thrusted into you, it was Patrick thrusting into Art that started turning you to mush. Art was shaking, pink as ever and some movement was his own, but the rest was Patrick. He was weak. You moaned loudly, gripping Art’s hair with one hand and the bedsheets with the other. It mingled with Art’s, choked out and broken.

“Fuck-“ you sighed, chest heaving.

“It’s okay, Art?”

“I—“ he broke, eyes shut, eyelashes fluttering. “Yes. Yes.” Drool dripped from Art’s mouth onto your chest as he moaned and rocked into you. Not once in his life had he ever felt so good, so whole. “God,” he groaned loudly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck me-“ and he moaned openly, louder than before.

Patrick picked up the pace, panting at the top of the pile you three were practically in. Art kept himself up with one hand and he let the other slink down to rub circles on your clit. You almost screamed. In his state, fucked out and being fucked and actively ruined- he made an effort to make you feel better.

“Oh god,” you sighed. “God…” Your first orgasm, built up three times over was just around the corner. “Fuck!” You pulled Art’s hair hard, you were so close. And Patrick fucked Art harder than ever, adding movement, friction, and both you and Art came undone at the same time. He shot into you, more powerfully this time. Hot, heavy. And you cried out, letting the wave wash over you, take over all your senses.

But Patrick didn’t stop. He didn’t finish yet. So he kept fucking Art, so Art kept fucking you and it was too much for poor Art. His eyelids drooped, his eyes rolled back, and he moaned so loud you knew the neighbours heard. Drool pooled on your tits. Art was entirely gone, you watched as tears fell from his eyes. He was being fucked twice at the same time, his orgasm coming from two different places.

“Harder,” he groaned. Unexpected. You weren’t sure if it was the edible, but you could feel every little thing as pleasure, even his words. Patrick obliged, thrusting harder, stronger. “Fuck!” He groaned. You felt another orgasm kick into existence, building on itself. It would break you.

Art used the power he had to keep you going too. He moaned, you moaned, and you felt Patrick’s thrusts get sloppy. And like clockwork, you finished, then Art, and then Patrick. You felt Art gush again into you again, felt it as it pooled around the spot on the bed where you were.

Patrick hummed, slowly thrusting out the waves. Your whole body felt tingly. Full, even. You smiled, out of breath.

Patrick pulled out of Art and poor Art collapsed onto you, still inside. Patrick rolled onto the bed beside you. “That was fun.” He breathed.

“Mhm,” you agreed, dazed. “How are you feeling, Art?” The poor boy was done for. He lifted his thumb and this thumb only. Patrick grabbed a tissue and wiped off your chest, making sure to touch everywhere he could, on purpose. You looked at him slyly. He shrugged with a wink.

“How was it for you?” Patrick asked you quietly, a chuckle on his breath. “How are you feeling?

“Good, so good.” You grinned. “And I’m feeling full. Really full.” You touched the side of your stomach, as Art covered most of your body. Art pulled out, moving next to you. You felt the gush of the excess pour onto the bed. You winced. “Can we head into town for plan B tomorrow?” You joked, but it was probably needed.

“We’ll grab lunch too,” Patrick laughed, starting to pull the sheets off the bed. Your hand rubbed gently up and down Art’s upper arm, soothingly.

“Yeah.” You sighed. You were content. You looked over at Art, laying silently on his back. You rubbed up and down his arm. “I need help with him,” you followed. Then you nudged Art. “Hey, pretty, I need to get up.”

Art only made an ‘mmm’ sound. Patrick nudged him too. “I’m okay, I’m just- wow.” He sighed, eyes not even opening. “I never-“

“You did so well,” you smiled, kissing him on the forehead. “So good.”

“Took it so well,” Patrick agreed, ruffling Art’s hair. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Donaldson.”

He huffed, “I did.” And it took Patrick a second to piece together the joke. “Have it in me. Shut up.”

You couldn’t help but giggle. “Wow.” You sighed contently and rolled away- “Be right back.” You told them.

You fucked your best friends. That was your one thought as you went to the bathroom and rinsed yourself off and cleaned yourself out. You, high, let the absurdity of the situation sink in. You fucked your best friends, both of them… They fucked each other. You chuckled quietly- who knew that would happen?

When you were done and dressed, Patrick had already fixed himself and Art up. The bed had been remade with clean sheets. Art sat against the wall in just his boxers again and Patrick stayed shirtless, but put his pants back on- and he was fucking with the guitar in the corner.

“So do we speak of this again?” Art asked, looking at you.

“Only when we need to,” Patrick replied. “Keep this just between friends.”

You and Art chuckled. He looked at you a little differently now. Maybe it was because you couldn’t wash him off of you entirely. “You okay?” You asked him.

“Oh, yeah, I’m good. Very… good. I was just fucked dumb.” He answered, a little blunt, grinning. “By two different people- and one of them was a guy.” And Patrick laughed at that. “-Was good but I’m not doing that again…”

“Pleasure,” Patrick nodded. You leaned against the wall next to Art, and let your head fall on his shoulder comfortably. His hand moved just gently, coming to rest on your thigh. Not grab or anything, just rest. Your heart picked up a little. Hm. “It was good though.” Patrick admit. “Surprisingly. Unsurprisingly.”

“You’re welcome.” You replied, cheekily. “Let’s not do that again though.”

“Agreed.” Art and Patrick responded in unison. Different reasons. Art chuckled heartily.

“You guys are hot though. Just for the record.” Patrick added, pointing between the two of you again. “Especially together.”

You giggled, turning your head to look at Art, who was already looking down at you, a small, sheepish smile on his face. Patrick laughed. Art covered half his face, then looked away. His fingertips lightly pressed, one after the other, into the flesh of your thigh. He squeezed just once, in affirmation.

requests open <3