#vicpat

One year prior 

Vic wouldn’t call himself a touch-starved person. If anyone said it about him, he would’ve told them to fuck off. He wasn’t some pussy that was traumatized by not being hugged enough as a child. Though, he couldn’t deny that Patrick’s hands on him were comforting in a way. Of course, he would never tell him that. It would make him even more insufferable than he already was. 

Patrick’s hands were cold where they pressed along his skin. They never seemed to warm, no matter how much of Vic’s body heat they soaked up. Vic shivered under his touch, his heart beginning to pound faster as hands slipped lower. He knew what would come next, although he wasn’t used to it just yet. 

Spidery fingers curled around his thighs to spread them further, pushing them near to his chest. He felt exposed like this, despite the fact Patrick couldn’t see most of him. Somehow, his body seemed to grow colder. Patrick’s cock rubbed against him, getting him wetter. His own hands found Patrick’s shoulders, rubbing over his back just to have something to do with his hands. 

Patrick groaned when he started to press inside, a gradual push forward until he was completely buried in him. It felt harder to breathe now, Patrick’s body too close and filling him too much. Vic shifted restlessly underneath him, his body adjusting to the stretch quickly enough. Patrick pulled out at a leisurely pace before forcing his way back into him. 

Luckily, Patrick wasn’t overly thick. He made up for it in length, though. Often, Vic would feel sore deep inside of himself once they were done. A dull ache somewhere he couldn’t quite name, feeling it for days afterwards. He held tighter to Patrick, one hand digging into his hair. Patrick was the most normal when they were like this. He could almost pretend there was nothing wrong with Patrick in these moments. 

Patrick was growing more rough with each thrust back inside, his cock sliding with ease. His cunt was wet, his palms beginning to sweat. The feeling wasn’t entirely pleasurable. In fact, it was leaning more towards being awful in a way he couldn’t explain. He’d never felt like this in bed with Patrick before, not to nearly the same degree.  His chest was tight and he tried to ignore the mounting feeling inside of himself. 

Patrick’s teeth sank into the meat of his throat, biting down carelessly. A moan pulled free from Vic’s chest, body spasming with the feelings that overwhelmed him from every direction. The stretch of Patrick’s cock that didn’t feel entirely good, but also didn’t feel entirely bad. The sting of Patrick’s teeth that grounded him, reminded him that he was here. It gave him something distinct to focus on. 

Vic’s blunt nails dug into Patrick’s shoulders. Of course, Patrick didn’t respond to the pain. He wondered often if Patrick could actually feel physical pain at all, given he’d never seen Patrick react to it. 

His hips rocked harder into Vic, his teeth letting go in favor of sucking at the skin instead. Distantly, Vic worried about someone seeing all the marks Patrick left on him. He’d started trembling at some point, although he wasn’t sure when that started or what sparked it. His chest seemed almost painfully tight and an overwhelming sense of being trapped washed over him. 

He closed his eyes and ignored it. This was just sex, it was ridiculous to be bothered by it. Patrick wasn’t hurting him in a way he disliked. There was nothing wrong, he didn’t know why he felt like there was. Even as he tried to focus on the way Patrick fucked him, his mind couldn’t shake the feeling. His body hadn’t relaxed much around Patrick. 

“Fuck,” Patrick murmured into his skin. “You’re so fucking tight.” 

Patrick’s words sounded so far off, cloudy and distant. It felt like there was a wall between them, keeping Vic from fully being there with Patrick. He held tighter to him as though it would close the gap, but even with their skin pressed as closely as they could be, it didn’t change anything. He was falling apart in Patrick’s hands, whining weakly at each harder thrust. Time slowed to a crawl and hours could have passed without him realizing it. 

He felt so out of breath, despite Patrick being the one to do all the work. Patrick panted and buried his face further against his skin. He was sweating above him, but Vic was still cold. Shivers ran through him with some regularity and his head felt light in a way he’d never really experienced before. He barely registered the moment Patrick finally came. 

Hips jerked erratically as he got closer and Vic wasn’t aware enough to even be relieved Patrick pulled out. He could feel him spilling hot over his stomach, the warmth only temporary and not enough to truly matter. He was shaking more fully once Patrick eased off of his body. He pulled the blankets up around himself and laid his head on Patrick’s chest. 

The rapid beating of his heart distracted Vic from the sound of his own. He tried to comfort his own mind, telling himself Patrick’s heart was going faster than his and he was still fine. He would be okay, he kept repeating those words. The room felt like it was spinning as he stared at the bare wall across from him. Eventually, it became too much and he had to close his eyes to try to calm down. 

Patrick went unaware of anything being wrong with him, but he wasn’t sure how. He had to be acting strangely, he couldn’t fathom the idea that he seemed alright. It had to be obvious. Patrick just stroked his arm and back like everything was normal, though. He could hear each beat of his own heart and he became fixated on it, worrying that it was racing too quickly. And still, Patrick simply held him. 

Holding onto Patrick was comforting, although it wasn't enough to fully calm him. Patrick felt real and there. If anything was actually wrong, Patrick would be able to do something at the very least. He wouldn't let him die here, not like this. He liked messing with him too much. When Vic died, it would likely be by Patrick's hands. Not whatever this was. 

“What the fuck is that thing?” Henry’s voice echoed through the quarry, making Vic turn his head. Henry was staring at something on Patrick’s chest. From a distance, Vic thought it must be some kind of bruise. There was a dark patch on his chest, but it didn’t look like a bruise exactly.

“It’s a tattoo Henry. Haven’t you ever seen one before?” Patrick asked, puffing out his chest with pride.

“Where did you find someone to give you a tattoo?” Belch asked. “Thought you had to be 18 or somethin.”

Patrick smirked. “I did it myself.”

Vic’s eyes widened just a touch. He kept his face indifferent as he stepped a little closer to get a better look.

“You have a tattoo gun?” Henry asked, sounding a little interested now.

“Nope, it’s called stick poke. You can do it with sewing needles.” Patrick explained.

Vic could see it a little better now. The lines were smooth like in other tattoos he had seen. They were rough, composed of several small dots. He could tell now what it was. It was a heart. Not one of those cheesy Valentine’s day hearts, but a rough drawing of a realistic human heart in approximately the same area Patrick’s actual heart is.

“What do you think Vic?” Patrick asked, making Vic jump just a little at the sudden question.

Truthfully, he liked it. The way the ink stood out against the otherwise pale skin of Patrick’s chest did something to him. It was the imperfection of it all. Like a scar, but more decorative. It was real. It was permanent. Hell, Vic loved it.

“It’s backwards,” was what he said. Henry was standing right there. The wrong words out of Vic’s mouth could put Henry in one of his moods. Vic had long since learned to be careful with what he said.

That made Henry and Belch laugh, though Vic doubted either of them would’ve noticed the mistake if Vic hadn’t pointed it out.

Patrick rolled his eyes. “I was looking in a mirror when I did it.” He explained.

“Whatever Trick, you’re a freak for playing with needles,” Henry told him.

Patrick grinned. “If you ever want one Henry, you know where I live.”

Henry shoved Patrick and the rest of the day moved on, but those words continued to echo in the back of Vic’s mind.

If you ever want one, you know where I live.

Vic knew it was a bad idea. Only an idiot or a crazy person would let Patrick Hockstetter repeatedly stab him with a needle. Vic never considered himself either of those things, and yet here he was.

He knocked on the garage door at Patrick’s house. The metallic twang rang out, filling the night. It was late, nearly 11pm, but Patrick would be awake. Vic was sure of that.

“Password?” Came Patrick’s voice from the otherside of the door.

Vic rolled his eyes. “Since when do you have a password?”

The garage was pulled open quickly. “Vic?” Patrick seemed happy to see him, and that fact alone made Vic’s stomach twist. “What brings you to my humble abode, and all by yourself too? I don’t think you’ve ever come and seen me all on your own. Did Henry want to meet up?”

Vic took in Patrick for just a moment. He had never seen the other dressed so casually. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants that were both a size to big, and too short. They hung low on his hips but didn’t even reach his ankles. He was also shirtless. His tattoo even more visible now that Vic was little more than a foot away.

Vic took a deep breath and held it while he shook his head. He got this far, he couldn’t back down now. “I came to see you.” Vic told him.

Patrick looked at him, almost like he was studying him. “Why?” Not that he wasn’t more than happy to entertain Vic. The blond had never, in their many years of what Patrick would consider friendship, come to see him. He had a reason to be wary.

“I want a tattoo.” Vic said, with a determined expression. There it was he had said it.

Patrick laughed, and Vic couldn’t help the blush that crept across his cheeks.

“Seriously Vic? You want a tattoo?” Patrick wiped a tear from his eye.

“Yeah, I do actually.” Vic crossed his arms across his chest.

“Alright then, come on in.” Patrick stepped aside and motioned for Vic to enter.

He stepped inside and tried not to flinch as he heard the garage to slam closed behind him.

“What do you want exactly? I’m not an artist. I can’t do complicated shit.” He said.

Vic bit his lip. He hadn’t thought about what he wanted. He just wanted something.

“Surprise me.” Vic said, quite possibly the more dangerous two words he had ever said before in his life.

Patrick looked at Vic for a moment, just to be sure he was serious. When Vic didn’t immediately take back what he had said, Patrick looked delighted.

“Where do you want it?” He asked.

“Somewhere easy to hide.” Vic told him. He didn’t care if his parents saw. Hell, he could probably go down to breakfast tomorrow and tell them he had let his friend give him a tattoo, and they wouldn’t even care. Still, he didn’t want Henry to see. He wasn’t sure what Henry would think of Patrick giving him a tattoo, but he couldn’t think of any situation where he would be okay with it.

“I could put it on your ass.” Patrick suggested.

“No way,” Vic said quickly. Despite the intimacy of this whole thing, Vic still had some limits.

“Fine,” Patrick grumbled. He looked at Vic, eyes trailing over his body. “What about you hip then?”

“My hip?” Vic questioned. He wasn’t completely against the idea.

Patrick reached out, pulling Vic’s shirt up a bit to rub his thumb against the space right by Vic’s hip bone.

“Yeah, right here. Easy to hide, but also easy to show off if you want to.” Patrick said.

Vic felt his skin tingle where Patrick had touched him. He didn’t say anything. He just nodded.

“Alright, I’ll grab my stuff. Take your pants off and lay on the couch.” Patrick said.

“My pants?” Vic asked with just a touch of concern.

“Yeah, take them off. They’ll be in the way.” Patrick said, as he grabbed some stuff from around the garage.

Vic hesitated for a moment before he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them off. He laid on the couch, feeling a bit exposed and Patrick finished gathering his supplies.

He flicked his lighter on and held a needle in the flame.

“What are you doing?” Vic asked, for a moment afraid that Patrick was going to burn him.

“I’m sterilizing the needle.” Patrick explained, not even looking at Vic. He concentrated on getting everything set up.

He grabbed the hem of Vic’s boxers and began to tug. Vic hands shot down keeping them in place.

“Cool your jets Vic. I’m not taking them off. I need to clean around the area.” Patrick said. Vic let go of Patrick’s hands and let the other tug his boxers down enough that a few dark brown curls peaked over the waist band. Patrick smirked at him. “I knew you weren’t a natural blond.”

Then Patrick sprayed his hip with some solution and wiped it clean with a paper towel.

“You ready?” He asked, needle in position.

Vic nodded. His entire body felt warm, on edge with anticipation. He wasn’t nervous in the least.

“No peeking, it’s a surprise, remember.” Patrick told him.

Vic gasped when he felt the first prick of the needle. It didn’t hurt, at least not as much as he was anticipating. It was just a series of tiny pokes.

It burned a bit as Patrick worked. Not in the same way touching a stove burned. It was more of a warmth. If anything it felt good.

Patrick wiped of the excess ink with a paper towel. “One more time going over it and you’ll be all set.”

“Okay,” Vic practically whimpered. He wasn’t sure he wanted it to be over so soon. The warmth from the tattoo was traveling to his groin and the lack of jeans made it embarrassingly obvious that he was halfway to a full boner. Patrick was either blissfully unaware or purposefully ignoring it.

Soon it was done and Vic could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

“Take a look,” Patrick said, pulling back.

Vic glanced down. There right by his hip bone was a small heart. It was not realistic like the own Patrick had, but Vic couldn’t help but notice the similarity between the two.

“You like it?” Patrick asked, but smiling as if he already knew Vic’s answer.

“Yeah,” He said, a bit breathless. “How much do I owe you?” He asked, assuming Patrick would want money for his work.

He looked at the little tattoo on Vic’s hip, then up at Vic. “Kiss me and we’ll call it even.”

Vic was a bit taken back. He wanted to protest, but the way Patrick was looking at him sent shivers down Vic’s spine.

“Kiss me with tongue and I won’t even tell Henry about it.” Patrick added.

Vic let out a shaky breath. He grabbed the back of Patrick’s hair and pulled him into a kiss. It was sloppy, but not unpleasant. He wasn’t sure where Patrick learned to kiss, but he was actually quite good.

The pulled back from each other. Vic’s lips were shiney with spit and slightly swollen. His cock between his legs throbbed slightly.

“You should get home before Mommy and Daddy miss you.” Patrick said as he stood, turning away from Vic.

Vic knew he was right. He should put his pants on and leave, but tonight was a night of impulsive decisions.

“I don’t have anywhere to be.” He said in a soft voice.