Chapter Text
They stumbled over each other as they closed the door to the back room. David’s hands were everywhere on Patrick, and he was all nervousness and excitement and. And.
And, a slowly growing tightness in his gut, one that sharpened when David’s fingers went to his zip.
Patrick’s hands pressed back against David’s arms, and David pulled back, taking a step away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t mean to rush you--”
“It’s not that,” Patrick said. “I...” He exhaled deeply. “I really want to do this, David. But, uh.” He ran a hand through the hair on the back of his head, trying to muster up the courage to say it.
And that tight feeling in his stomach sunk, becoming a harsh knot of dread. Moving to Schitt’s Creek was a fresh start he had desperately needed. Nobody calling him by the wrong name, no “miss” or “ma’am,” no oddly sympathetic looks when he was out and about with his parents. Keeping a secret wasn’t exactly hard, because it wasn’t like anyone was going to see him naked. And he didn’t want to do anything to disturb that secret.
Until now.
He looked David up and down briefly--the skirt that went past his knees, still swinging back and forth gently with leftover energy from the movements of their bodies a few seconds before. The Parisien sweatshirt. The look on his face, eyes soft, mouth slightly downturned in an expression of concern and care. And there were probably tons of trans people in New York City.
Patrick had thought this through. He knew David, he trusted David. He wouldn’t have let things get this far if that wasn’t the case. And he couldn’t think of anyone in Schitt’s Creek who was more likely to understand and accept him. But the logical understanding that things would probably be fine still didn’t shake the terror from his gut.
“Hey,” David said, and took Patrick’s hand in both of his. “It’s okay. I get it.” He sighed. “Look, I remember my first time with a guy. I was ter- rified, and not just because I was worried--correctly, I might add--that the song he’d inevitably write about me would end up on the Billboard Top 200.” He stared past Patrick’s shoulder for a moment, then brought himself back to the present. “We can go at whatever pace you want, it’s no big deal.”
Patrick smiled despite himself. Everything was a big deal to David, so that sentiment meant a lot. But it wasn’t rushing he was worried about. He wished he could go faster.
He knew he’d never get the words out if he kept looking into those worried oaken eyes, so he employed the same tactic he’d used with Rachel: stared at the floor and said it flatly. “David, I’m trans.”
“Oh.” David’s voice betrayed no emotion. Then he placed his other hand on top of Patrick’s and squeezed gently. When he spoke again, his tone was so tender that Patrick felt a stinging at the corners of his eyes. “Thanks for telling me.” He placed a kiss on Patrick’s cheek. “Just so you know, this changes nothing. Just tell me if I fuck anything up, okay?”
It was one of the best responses David could have given, in Patrick’s view. He inhaled sharply. “Okay, so the first thing I need you to know is that nobody else in town knows. I’d like to keep it that way.”
David nodded solemnly. “Got it.”
“I mean it, David.” Patrick pulled his hand away and leaned back against a pile of boxes, looking David dead in the eyes. “Nobody else in town. Not Stevie, not Alexis, not anyone. I’m only telling you because--” He looked down at himself. “I feel like you’d find out sooner or later.”
“Preferably sooner,” David said with a grin.
“David, this is serious.” A wave of panic ripped through Patrick. Had he been wrong about David? Could he not be trusted to be private? Were all his late-night run-throughs of all the ways this could go just...wrong?
Of course not, he reassured himself. He didn’t take risks like that.
And sure enough, when he looked at David again, the grin had been wiped away. “I totally understand,” David was saying. “Listen, I know I don’t exactly have a reputation for...keeping things private. But I can do it with stuff that’s actually a big deal.” His eyes pierced Patrick so thoroughly that he had to look away. “I’m not going to tell anyone, and if I do, you have full permission to murder me. Although I do ask that it at least be in a dramatic fashion.”
Patrick felt better. “Okay,” he said.
They both stood in silence for a moment. Patrick broke it. “So,” he said awkwardly, “now that we’ve gotten that out of the way--you said it didn’t change anything?”
David nodded. “Nothing. I still feel the same way about you.”
“In that case,” Patrick asked, keeping his tone even despite the rate at which his face was reddening, “can we get back to what we were doing before?”
David pretended to consider, then nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, I think we can.”
Patrick grinned. David was so ridiculous. He leaned in, and David met him halfway. His lips were forceful, and his hands grabbed fistfuls of Patrick’s hair, but Patrick wanted more. Now that his fear had gone, all that was left was desire.
He grabbed David’s waist and pressed him back against the stacked boxes, rolling his hips forward. Although he couldn’t feel much through the tightness of his jeans, he got a different kind of reward: David moaning into the kiss and rocking his own hips into Patrick’s. They got in a rhythm, Patrick feeling David’s hardness against his own even through all of their clothes, David gasping and whimpering and sucking hard on Patrick’s neck. Patrick grabbed at whatever pieces of David he could get. He wanted more, but he didn’t want to stop because oh, God, it felt good.
He briefly wondered what his old self living in Barndale would have thought of this scene: him shamelessly dry-humping his male business partner in a back room in the middle of the day. He grinned, and kissed David harder.
After what might have been minutes or hours, David pulled away. His hands moved back down, this time to Patrick’s belt, rather than his zip. He paused.
“Okay, so, full disclosure, you’re not the first trans guy I’ve been with,” he said, “so I do have some idea what I’m doing here. But I also know everyone’s different. So…” He took his hands away to gesticulate. “Likes? Dislikes? Language? No-nos?”
For a moment, Patrick didn’t care; it could be seconds before a customer walked through the door, and the way David said
no-nos
was just so
David
that he wanted the other man’s hands on him as immediately as possible. Then the moment faded, and his complicated feelings about his body came rushing back. And as it turned out, one of those complicated feelings was...confusion?
He’d never been with a guy before. Rachel usually just had him use any of the dicks he kept in his bedside table on her and then took care of his needs when she was done. But David was a man. With expectations, probably, about how he’d get to use his own dick.
“Well, let’s start with the fact that I’ve had metoidioplasty with a vaginectomy,” he said. Inwardly: I hope that’s not a disappointment.
But if David really was disappointed, he didn’t show it. Instead he just looked as confused as Patrick had felt a few seconds prior. “Cool…” He paused. “I don’t know what that means.”
Having to walk David through a complicated medical procedure would probably kill the mood, Patrick decided. “Why don’t I just show you?”
David clapped his hands together in excitement. “Please do.”
As Patrick was unbuckling his belt, Stevie’s voice rang out through the store: “Ding ding ding.”
Patrick and David looked at each other. David sighed. “I’ll go out first,” he said, smoothing his clothes as best he could.
For the rest of the day Patrick watched David warily for signs that anything was different. But there wasn’t. Not a single pronoun slip-up, no newfound awkwardness when their skin touched, no strange looks. David really was treating him the same way he had before. A swelling fear gathered in Patrick’s chest, then released; gathered and released all afternoon.
Maybe things were going to be okay with them. Maybe they weren’t
.
He’d find out tonight, he decided, just to quell his own anxiety, and didn’t let his thoughts go any further than that.
He hadn’t expected his transness to be the last thing on his mind that night.
“Sorry, I’ve just gotta go through that one more time,” he said, moving away from David’s (admittedly appealing, sweet-smelling) lips. “So, you dated Jake and then Stevie dated Jake.”
“Mm-hmm.” David looked like he was considering lighting his sweater on fire.
“And then at one point, you all--”
“No, see, that’s where you’re wrong,” David corrected him. “We almost all, but I said no.” The way he accentuated the no made Patrick’s heart do a little flutter. It was just so... David.
“Ah,” said Patrick, taking a healthy sip of whiskey as David attempted to further explain himself.
They went back and forth for awhile. There were a million more questions Patrick wanted to ask, but he also didn’t want to waste their one night alone together. “I suggest we lock that box back up for now,” he said finally, fully intending to reopen it once they were done.
“Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm,” David said enthusiastically, closing the space between them.
His lips were whiskey and chapstick sweet, the scent of his cologne strong, the hint of his stubble sharp against Patrick’s mouth--and then he was pulling away again, the kiss over as quickly as it began.
“You know,” he began, “we didn’t even get into your history--”
A wave of anguish flooded Patrick. His history. His first kiss. Until recently, the only girl he’d kissed. The girl who he’d sworn he’d make his wife.
The girl who told him he’d shattered her world, and who’d stayed with him anyway.
“Lock it up, David,” he said quickly, reaching for his business partner. “Lock it up.”
To his credit, David complied easily. “Oh, okay,” he said, eagerness audible, allowing Patrick to grab the back of his neck and press it forward. Their lips met again and this time David’s were as hungry as Patrick’s, exploring, daring, his tongue slipping into Patrick’s mouth.
Patrick’s hands were greedy. He wanted all of David, all at once. He wrapped his arms around the other man and pulled him in closer. In response, David leaned in closer and closer, until he swung one leg over Patrick’s lap and was straddling him. He wrapped his arms around Patrick’s neck and kissed him again with wild abandon, his erection pressing against Patrick’s stomach . Patrick moaned into his mouth. He ran his hands up and down David’s sides. And then David’s hands were cool on his bare back, and his nails were scratching down, and Patrick had to break the kiss to moan.
“You said you had something to show me…” David said, lips at Patrick’s ear.
A thrill of nervousness and excitement went through Patrick. “I do, but.” He patted David’s back. “You’re going to have to get off me first.”
And David did, but instead of moving to sit beside Patrick, as he had expected, he slid backwards. Onto his knees.
Patrick chuckled.
“What?” David asked, grinning.
“Someone’s eager.”
“Guilty as charged,” David responded, and the playful way he said it made Patrick pull his face up for another kiss.
Patrick took off his belt and dropped it on the floor beside him, then shimmied out of his pants, then, hesitantly, his underwear. David blinked.
“Wow,” he said.
Patrick looked away. “I know it’s not much.” This was a lie. He was proud of his two inches of cock, proud of the way it swelled to its full girth, proud of the way it sat atop the testicular implants. But he knew by most people’s standards, including probably David’s, he wasn’t much to look at.
“No, no,” David said quickly, pushing himself up to press a kiss to Patrick’s lips. “You’re gorgeous,” he said when he pulled away, sinking back down. “It’s just that like...can I be honest? I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
Something about the way David said that, his eyes trained on Patrick’s cock and his lips curled slightly upwards into a smile, awakened a confusing mash of feelings deep in Patrick’s gut. The feeling that prevailed was hunger--need.
“Well, don’t be shy-- oh, I see you’re not, okay,” he said as David leaned forward and began sucking. He was gentle at first, at least with his mouth; his hands squeezed the insides of Patrick’s thighs, an odd gesture but not unappreciated. When he moved one hand to cup Patrick’s balls Patrick tilted his head back and allowed a sigh to escape his lips. He wasn’t usually vocal, but David was really sucking, really taking his full length into his mouth and sucking. He hadn’t been touched like that in a long time.
He almost whined when David took his lips away to ask, “That good, huh?”
“It’s good, it’s good,” Patrick said quickly. “Please don’t stop. Oh my God, David, that’s good.”
David licked up the length of Patrick’s cock before returning it to his mouth and Patrick let out a full, long moan. He’d never been this vocal before. No one had ever been this concerned with making him feel so good. He felt his hips rocking back and forth as he thrust himself into David’s mouth, and then David’s hand was on the small of his back, pushing his body forward, helping him go.
“Oh my God,” breathed Patrick. “Oh my God, David. David.” The name was delicious in his mouth. It was a name he’d imagined himself moaning so many times before, jerking himself with two fingers late at night, letting a wave of guilt and fear wash over him after he came. But now David was here for real,
sucking his cock for real,
and it was all he could say. “David,” he moaned again, both hands on the back of the other man’s head. “Jesus, David,
David--”
And then that familiar build of pressure, and he was rocking into David faster now, more eagerly, calling his name again and again, begging him not to stop, the warmth of David’s mouth and the softness of his manicured hand cupping his balls, until finally, finally he came, hard, spreading his legs as he cried out, David still sucking as wave after wave of pleasure rocked through him.
David held Patrick’s cock in his mouth until Patrick’s ragged, orgasmic pants grew softer and slower. He gently moved away to sit back on his knees. “How was that?” he asked, and Patrick could detect a hint of anxiety in his voice, which surprised him. Had David been nervous? David Rose , the fish out of water, the NYC queer icon, the man who wore skirts to work and dared the world to give him shit for it? Patrick hadn’t worn a skirt since he was four.
“It was amazing,” he said honestly, reaching down to play with David’s hair. “I’ve wanted that for a really long time, honestly.”
David smiled up at him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Well,” said David, “to be honest, I have, too.” He paused. “Also, do you mind if I get up?”
Patrick laughed, and patted the bed next to him.
“Oh thank God.” David quickly stood up and took the spot next to Patrick, clasping his hands together. “I mean, like, don’t get me wrong, I’m up for round two, but I really should have put a pillow down or something.”
A grin crossed Patrick’s face. “Round two?”
“Mm-hmm,” said David, leaning forward.