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Patrick wakes Jonny up by dropping down into his lap, a heavy, solid weight across his thighs. Jonny's been napping in the sun for a few hours and his skin is heated all over, so it makes the shock of Pat’s damp, cool body even more unpleasant. Jonny startles, writhing away from the contact as much as he can, which isn’t really much at all since Pat’s sprawled over both of his legs, bracing himself with his hands on Jonny’s shoulders, one forearm dipping to lean on his chest.
Pat’s swim trunks are wet and his skin is sticky-cold, so he’s either been in the ocean or the saltwater pool Jonny’s lounging next to, just off their private bungalow. Pat hadn’t woken him up splashing around or anything, so Jonny’s guessing the ocean, and his first instinct is to bitch at Pat for getting in the water by himself. Their little stretch of beach is relatively private and Jonny sleeps like the dead. What if a rip current had come or something? But even Jonny can admit that it sound ridiculous and he knows if he says that, Pat will literally never stop giving him shit for it, so he keeps it to himself.
“Shit, Pat,” Jonny says, stomach muscles tensing at the cold drag of wet fabric along his lower belly when Patrick shifts in his lap, too heavy on his thighs. “I was sleeping.”
“No shit?” Patrick says, affecting surprise. “I thought you were meditating over here, Jonny,” he drawls, pushing Jonny’s aviators up his forehead with one finger. Jonny squints grumpily and grumbles a little when Patrick takes them all the way off, resting them on the table next to him. It’s fucking bright as shit outside and his eyes have been closed and shaded for the better part of the past few hours, so a few seconds are not enough to adjust.
When he blinks them back open, Patrick’s looking down at him fondly, one hand cradling his neck, thumb sweeping in long strokes over the tendon just under his ear where he always carries a lot of tension. “Hey,” Jonny says, reaching his own hand up to press his thumb into the crinkle of skin at the corner of Patrick’s eye. He tries to smooth it out, but it just crinkles further when Patrick’s smile grows, like Jonny’s half-asleep oscillations between crabbiness and affection are amusing to him.
“You got a sunburn,” Jonny observes, brushing his fingers against the pink skin of Patrick’s nose. His chest is a little pink too, probably tender to the touch. Jonny knows he’s going to have to rub aloe on it later when Patrick’s whining about the residual heat and soreness, but he can’t say that he minds. “Thought you were wearing this so you wouldn’t,” he says, tweaking Patrick’s hat.
“What can I say, my skin’s delicate,” Patrick says, shrugging. “Didn’t have your ass attacking me with sunscreen every thirty minutes. I think it washed off in the ocean anyway, and then I never put more back on.”
“Nice,” Jonny says, stroking over the line of Patrick’s nose a final time. He knows Patrick will be complaining about it later, but it’s hard for Jonny to care now. He looks good like this, like a constant flush over his face, creeping down onto his chest.
“What’re you up here bugging me for, anyway?” Jonny asks after a few moments of just looking at Patrick, touching the soft skin of his face. The air between them isn’t quite charged, because it’s too hot and salty and sticky, and Jonny’s too heavy with sleep still to feel it quite like that, but there’s something there, like a low-grade arousal thrumming just under his skin. Impossible to forget when he’s got Patrick on his lap, Patrick’s bare skin under his hands.
“I got bored,” Patrick says. “You were asleep forever. We only have two more days here and I’m not gonna waste it watching your lazy ass sleep on a lounge chair.”
Jonny snorts. “We’re on vacation,” he points out. “What ‘m I supposed to be doing instead?”
Patrick huffs expressively, pushing down on Jonny’s chest with his palm as he wriggles around in his lap, trying to get comfortable. Jonny grunts when Patrick’s ass rubs hard over his balls. “I don’t know, Jonny, swimming? Scuba diving? Deep sea fishing, c’mon, you practically came in your pants when we did that.”
“Yeah, getting you all dosed up on Dramamine and watching you hurl over the side of the boat sounds like a great way to spend the last two days of the trip,” Jonny agrees, lips quirking up to one side. His hand drops around to the back of Patrick’s neck, scratching the curls peeking out of the back of his baseball cap, letting his finger curl around one and tug.
Patrick’s lips twist sourly. “Whatever,” he says sourly. “What’s so fucking great about having to murder and dismember your own food anyway? I can have room service delivered poolside at this place.” Which, admittedly, it is pretty great to have food and drinks brought directly to your private pool, Jonny can’t lie about that. He’d developed an embarrassing affinity for strawberry margaritas over the past ten days.
“Trust me, my credit card bill knows it,” Jonny says, huffing when Patrick thumps him on the chest. His hand drops further, running up and down the notches of Patrick’s spine just in between his shoulder blades as he grins apologetically up at him, trying not to laugh at Patrick’s judgy glare.
“Ignoring the implication that you’re my fuckin’ sugar daddy or some shit,” Patrick says with an eyeroll, and Jonny ignores the way it makes his stomach feel a little warm. “So, deep sea fishing’s out. Whatever,” he says again. “There’s still long, romantic walks on the beach with your boyfriend. C’mon Jonny, don’t you wanna feel the sand between your toes?”
“I hate sand,” Jonny says contrarily.
Patrick shakes his head, not quite managing to erase the fond look from his face. He steadies himself with two hands pressed down hard on Jonny’s shoulders as he swings one leg over Jonny’s lap, straddling his thighs. Jonny’s hand slides as Patrick moves, spread out wide across the middle of his back, and he drops the other one to grip his hip.
They’re both wearing nothing but thin swim trunks, and in this position, he can feel that their cocks are both starting to get swollen with interest. Patrick’s a little high on his lap for them to brush together, but he can feel Patrick’s low on his belly and when he shifts his hips, his pressed up just behind Patrick’s balls, the soft sensitive spot between his sac and his hole. Jonny’s rubbed off against that stretch of Patrick’s body so many times, shoving Patrick’s knees up around his shoulders or getting him on his stomach and hauling his ass up, fitting his cock in Patrick’s crease, when they’ve been too lazy or drunk or sleepy to fuck for real, and the suggestion of it is making Jonny prickle with latent arousal.
“We got a nice big bed inside, Tazer,” Patrick reminds. “Fucking me on it’s a pretty good Dramamine-free, sand-free way to end your vacation.”
Jonny’s grip on his hip tightens, pulling Patrick down against him, rolling his hips lazily as Patrick grins, satisfied, like he’s getting exactly what he wants.
“Hell of a shower, too,” Patrick says, lifting up a little so Jonny has to follow if he wants to keep the pressure on his dick. “And a jacuzzi tub. I’m disappointed in us, Jonny. We haven’t taken nearly enough advantage of that jacuzzi tub.”
“We have a jacuzzi in Chicago,” Jonny says flatly, curling a hand around the back of Patrick’s neck and tugging him down for a kiss, but Patrick just laughs and twists up, so Jonny goes for his throat instead, licking up the salt-damp skin and sucking at his pulse-point, humming in satisfaction when Patrick exhales in surprise and pleasure.
“Yeah, but not this jacuzzi tub,” Patrick says, voice a little shakier. “This one’s got an ocean view, baby.”
Which is a fair point, and Jonny’s pretty sure they’re going to end up fucking sooner rather than later, even if Patrick is being a little difficult, but he also really, really doesn’t feel like getting up just to have complicated sex in a jacuzzi tub when he doesn’t even know if they have lube that’ll hold up in the water. “Got an ocean view right here,” he points out, as if he’s looking at the ocean, and not the broad stretch of Patrick’s chest in front of him, how wide his shoulders get, all stacked through his traps and so wide across he stretches out Jonny’s shirts when he steals them.
“We’re kinda outside right here, Taze,” Patrick says, quirking an eyebrow at him.
It’s not untrue, Jonny thinks. They are outside, hot salt air thick around them and midday sun heavy on their backs, but their bungalow is relatively private, and they’ve got private beach around them on either side. Jonny knows it’s not like he can promise Patrick that no one will see but that’s not… entirely unappealing to him. That someone might see him making Patrick feel good. The nearest bungalow is far enough away that there’s no way they’d be able to identify Jonny or Patrick and half the people staying in this resort are honeymooners anyway, probably getting up to the exact same kind of shit.
“We’re alone outside,” Jonny amends, drawing Patrick back down for a kiss again. He doesn’t fight this time, letting Jonny press their mouths together, opening up for Jonny when he runs his tongue against his lips, gasping wetly into Jonny’s mouth. “Who’s going to see us?” Jonny asks roughly when he has to pull back for air.
“Jonny,” Patrick says, whiny, and Jonny can’t help but grin, tugging at the corner of Patrick’s red mouth. This thing might’ve started with Patrick in charge, grinding all over Jonny’s dick and making Jonny chase after him, but Jonny thinks things are starting to switch and fuck if he’s not going to help easing things in that direction.
“Peeks,” Jonny says, pausing to kiss open-mouthed down his neck until he reaches his collarbone. “I wanna fuck you, just like you said. No one’s going to see us, baby, we’re all alone out here,” he says again. “It’ll be good, you know I’ll make it good.”
Patrick moans, rocking down hard on Jonny’s dick, now hard and lifted in his swim trunks. “Jesus, Jonny,” he says breathily. “Such a fucking exhibitionist.”
“You like it, too, don’t pretend you don’t,” Jonny says, sucking the tender skin above Patrick’s clavicle. Patrick might give him shit for how much he likes to show off his body, and it’s true that Patrick isn’t as inclined to walk around half dressed, even when it’s just the two of them, but he likes to leave hickeys on Jonny’s throat just as much as Jonny likes to leave them on him, and he doesn’t hold back his moans as much as he should when Jonny’s fucking him in hotel rooms and they’ve got teammates on either side of them. Patrick may not be an exhibitionist about himself, but he is about Jonny, and Jonny doubts this is going to be an exception.
“Fuck ,” Patrick groans, threading his hands through the hair on the back of Jonny’s head. He’s let it grow this summer and it’s long enough for Patrick to get a good grip, tugging just tight enough to sting a little. “What - you want me to ride you right here?” Patrick asks eventually, trying to keep his voice steady. "Pretty sure someone's gonna notice that.”
Jonny grunts, both hands going around to grab a handful of Patrick’s ass, squeezing and drawing him forward, making his cock rub up against Jonny’s abdomen. Suddenly, he wants that cock bare against his skin, rubbing a sticky, damp trail of precome on his belly, uninhibited by the wet drag of Patrick’s swim trunks. “Yeah, yeah,” Jonny agrees, not even bothering with a token protest. “Want them to see how good I make you feel, Pat. How good you make me feel,” he adds, taking Pat’s hand and bringing it behind his body, pulling it just under his ass until it’s resting on Jonny’s cock so Patrick can feel how hard Jonny’s getting at the idea.
And it’s not like Patrick’s any less hard, distending the front of his shorts, thick, fat cock testing their seams, probably folded up uncomfortably inside. “Let me see your dick, c’mon, baby,” Jonny begs, tugging at the little tie on Patrick’s trunks.
“Shit, Jonny, yeah,” Patrick says, rolling his hips forward helplessly. “Yeah, do it.”
So Jonny does, untying Patrick’s shorts and peeling the wet material to either side, letting Pat’s dick rest hard and bare between them on Jonny’s stomach. Patrick is too big and heavy to stand up straight, pointing up the way Jonny does when he’s hard, so his hard cock just lays on Jonny’s stomach, almost more vulgar for being the only part of his lower half that’s exposed, balls still tucked away in his shorts, ass covered as well.
“Look at you,” Jonny says, just staring down at Patrick, not touching him. He lets Patrick grind against Jonny’s abs with short little jolts of his hips, precome sticking to Jonny’s stomach in wet trails. “Look how pretty and wet you are for me, Peeks. Think you want this as bad as I do, eh?”
“Shit,” Patrick says again, half sob, half whine, covering his own dick with his hand and rubbing it against Jonny’s abs. “Don’t play dumb. You know I do.”
Jonny runs his hands in long, comforting strokes down Patrick’s back, down his sides, over the curves of his pecs, just sweeping across every inch of exposed body that he can and enjoying the way Patrick shivers at his touch, already looking so fucked up that Jonny’s not sure how he’s going to last until Jonny fucks him. Patrick’s too sensitive to be fucked after he comes, and Jonny really, really wants to come in his ass, so he’s going to have to help keep him back from that edge for just a while longer.
“Up,” Jonny says, tapping Patrick’s thigh, after a minute of letting Patrick rub off against his stomach, body all jerky with pleasure. “Get these off,” he says, fingering at the hem of Patrick’s trunks when he stands. Patrick complies quickly, pulling the wet fabric down over his thighs, still pale even after nearly two weeks at the beach. His cock is thick with blood and the flush over his chest is now covering all the way down his stomach.
Jonny makes quick work of his own shorts, not standing, just lifting his hips and tugging them down, tossing them to the side when he’s done. His dick lifts hard and straight from between his legs, foreskin completely pulled back over the head and balls resting on his thighs. Jonny cups it, pulling once, twice, when Patrick licks his lips, eyes flickering.
“Get the fuck back on me,” Jonny says, thighs feeling unsatisfyingly empty without Patrick’s weight on them. Patrick grins, licking his lips again and jolting forward unsteadily, landing hard on Jonny’s lap for the second time that afternoon and not hesitating as he plants his arms on either side of Jonny’s head and draws Jonny in for a deep, wet kiss.
Jonny likes kissing Patrick because Patrick likes it so fucking much, and right now it doesn’t feel like a distraction from the sort of touch Jonny’s really looking for, but an enhancement of it. Patrick’s mouth on his is sun-hot, sweet like the margaritas they’ve been downing like water all week, and perfectly sure, like he knows his welcome here. Without the extra layers of clothes between them, it feels good to just rub himself up against Patrick’s crease, that area he could feel the hint of before, the smoothness of his taint and his hole against Jonny’s dick contrasting with the roughness of the hair on Patrick's balls.
“Jonny, you gotta,” Patrick says when he tears his mouth away from Jonny’s, eyes bright even where they’re shaded by Patrick’s baseball cap, all knocked askew from their makeout session. “You gotta fuck me, man. I’m getting close already. I can’t last forever.”
Jonny reaches up and rubs over Patrick's swollen lower lip, groaning when Patrick sucks his thumb into his mouth briefly. He keeps going up with the intention of just straightening out Patrick’s hat, but instead, he ends up flipping it around so it’s on backwards, a few stray curls escaping from the sides and gathering abundantly under the brim at the back. He looks douchey as fuck, and Jonny is so fucking into it. “Yeah,” Jonny agrees, grabbing the bottle of suntan oil from the ground next to him.
Patrick's face is so unimpressed and judgemental and perfectly Patrick that Jonny can’t help but huff a little laugh, ducking his face briefly into Patrick’s neck. “You think you’re putting your pretentious fuckin’ suntan oil in my ass, Taze?” He asks, chest rumbling against Jonny when he speaks.
“You should be flattered,” Jonny says, grinning. “You know how much this shit costs?”
“Putting a price tag on the goods? Not cool, dude,” Patrick says, rolling his hips until Jonny’s dick catches on his hole and Jonny goes hot all over, suddenly desperate to fuck him.
He runs his hand all the way down the bumpy notches of Patrick’s spine, down the crease of his ass, just flirting over his rim in a light-handed tease, until he gets to his taint where he rubs his thumb over that tight, smooth stretch of skin, making Patrick shudder against him. Jonny loves to be touched there, but he’s got nothing on Patrick, who goes fucking crazy for it, bucking against Jonny like he’s not sure if he wants to urge Jonny’s hand back toward his hole or forward so Jonny’ll grab his balls, his thick cock.
“You really wanna go inside and get the lube?” Jonny asks, thumb ghosting over his rim once more. He can feel it flex as he passes over it, like he wants to draw Jonny inside.
Patrick tries to glare at him, but some of the effectiveness is lost in the way a blush effuses down his cheeks, a combination of the heat and his sunburn and arousal. His eyes are so shiny he looks strung-out, like all he can think about is getting Jonny’s fingers inside him, sitting on his cock, grinding it deep against his prostate until he comes. “No, no, fuck,” he says, dropping his head and rubbing his cock against Jonny’s stomach. “Just - use the fucking suntan oil, I don’t give a shit, just fucking get in me, you asshole.”
If Jonny were the kind of guy who was just fucking Patrick Kane because he had a nice body and was the best kisser Jonny’d ever met and knew exactly how much to push back against Jonny to make it so fucking good, he’d laugh, pleased with himself for getting Patrick so fucked up. But the thing is, he’s also of these things, but he’s also fucking Patrick Kane because he’s in love with him, and hearing Patrick so desperate for him, coming apart at the seams and unashamed about it because he trusts Jonny - well, how the fuck is Jonny supposed to laugh at that.
Instead, he fumbles with the bottle of oil, pouring way too much in the palm of one hand and slicking it over his fingers, dragging Patrick’s head down to meet him in a kiss as his hand travels the same line down Patrick’s body, pausing at his rim this time and spreading Patrick’s cheeks wide with his thumb and middle finger, letting his index finger test the give of Patrick’s hole.
“Jonny, Jonny, c’mon,” Patrick whines, thrusting down until Jonny’s finger sinks in down to the second knuckle, just giving Patrick something to clench around. He does, body twisting up tight and hot around Jonny’s finger, squeezing so hard it knocks the breath out of Jonny’s chest.
“That’s good, Peeks,” Jonny says, body heated all over. His dick’s so hard between his legs that it’s starting to ache, and when Jonny shifts his hips a little to try to relieve the pressure, Patrick groans and rubs his balls against it, making it ten times worse. “Oh shit, Pat. You feel how hard you’re making me?”
Patrick pulls back a little, that same fond look crossing his face. He brushes the hair off Jonny’s forehead softly before he ducks forward, kissing Jonny easy and open-mouthed, sharing his air. He moans when Jonny sinks his finger the rest of the way in, other hand coming back to grasp his cheek, pulling him open. “You gonna fuck me with it, baby?” He murmurs, inches away from Jonny’s mouth and biting his puffy lower lip in this way that drive Jonny crazy.
“Gonna fuck your ass,” Jonny agrees, slipping in his middle finger and crooking them forward, grunting when Patrick whines and thrusts hard into his stomach, asshole contracting and releasing as Jonny applies steady pressure to his prostate. A spurt of precome dribbles out of Patrick’s dick and onto the ridges of Jonny’s abs, starkly white against his tan skin. “Holy shit, Pat, look at your pretty dick,” he says, helpless, because he loves fucking Patrick’s ass and Patrick unashamedly loves it too, and that’s what they both usually prefer, but Patrick has a gorgeous cock, and Jonny loves when they fuck like this so he can rub it off against Jonny’s body.
Patrick laughs breathlessly, eyes closed and head thrown back, rolling on Jonny’s fingers. “Pretty sure your dick’s the one I’m s’posed to focus on,” he says, but he reaches down to press his own down against Jonny’s stomach anyway, another spurt of precome pulsing out. “Jonny, baby, you gotta get inside me, I’m gonna come just on your fingers.”
Which is the hottest thing Jonny’s ever heard, and ever more so because he knows Patrick can do it. Jonny needs plenty of stimulation on his cock, tight, hot, slick pressure to come, but Patrick’s prostate is sensitive as hell and, like everything else about Patrick, is designed to drive Jonny absolutely fucking crazy, so he can come just from something in his ass.
“Yeah,” Jonny says, getting his third finger in there and then the tip of his thumb, just holding Patrick wide open the way he loves to be, making him feel full and open and used. “Gonna show you off. Even if they can’t see your face, they’ll be able to see what you’re doing, Peeks. See how good you take me.”
“Then let me fucking take you, asshole,” Patrick grits out, shoving down so hard on Jonny's hand his wrist actually aches for a moment. “You know I'm good, Jonny, just give it to me."
Jonny's not even embarrassed that he has to take a moment to collect himself, because anyone would need to take a moment if they had a writhing, naked Patrick Kane on their lap, begging for their cock.
“Okay, okay,” Jonny breathes, pulling his fingers out of Patrick and lingering only briefly at the rim, tugging just to feel the stretch of it. He shifts Patrick so he can get to his cock and slicks himself up with the excess lube on his hand, squeezing tight over the head and tugging on the foreskin just a little uncomfortably to take away that edge of desperation. “C'mon, sit on me, Pat,” he says, positioning Patrick right over his dick and holding on tight to his hips, slick hand slipping a little as he does.
Patrick doesn't even hesitate, whining as he sits on Jonny's cock, stretching himself out around it until the skin of his rim is tugged snug and tight. Jonny's not as big as Patrick, but he's not small either, and Patrick heaves in a shaky breath as he takes it all, ass flush against Jonny's thighs, fingers flexing on his shoulders.
The oil isn't a perfect substitute for lube, dragging a little when Patrick shifts, but Jonny likes it and thinks Patrick does too, based on how he shudders. “Fuck, fuck, Taze, it's - fuck, it's a lot,” he says, eyes drawn closed, tonguing his lower lip compulsively.
“You good?” Jonny asks, muscles straining with the stress of not fucking up into Pat’s tight body.
“Yeah, ‘m…,” Patrick says, trailing off and rolling his head on his neck, a shiver coursing through the length of his body and resonating through Jonny's cock. “This angle,” he starts over. “‘S right on my fucking prostate, I can feel it every time I move.”
A little flash of satisfaction goes through Jonny at that, like Patrick's overwhelmed because of the pleasure Jonny's cock is bringing him, and he opens his mouth on a groan when Patrick lifts up and slams back down, calves squeezing and flexing against Jonny's thighs. Patrick looks gorgeous as he rides Jonny, body arched and curved, eyelashes catching the sunlight and pink flush creeping over all his pale skin, so beautifully naked for Jonny's pleasure and for the view of anyone who might happen to step out on the veranda of a neighboring bungalow. Fuck . Just the thought makes Jonny tighten his hands on Patrick's hips.
“Jonny, god, feels fucking insane like this, it's so fucking good, holy shit,” Patrick pants, thighs tensed as he bounces on Jonny's lap. Jonny can see Patrick’s muscles shivering on every pass up and down his cock, mouth falling open on an endless string of gasps and moans and his tongue is so pink and wet inside.
When Patrick lifts all the way up, catching the fat head of Jonny’s dick on his rim, Jonny stills him there, saying, “Don’t move, Pat.”
“Wha- Jonny, what the hell, man?” Patrick whines, needy, clenching down hard on tip of Jonny’s cock. “I’m so close, gonna get myself off on you.”
And as much as Jonny fucking loves it when Patrick rides him, using him like a toy, he still wants to fuck him. Thrust his dick up into Pat’s tight hole as hard and deep as he wants, feeling how Patrick ripples around him, how he has to force himself not to come.
“I’m gonna get you off on me,” Jonny promises, skating his hand down Patrick’s back, the arched curve of it, bowed to fit Jonny’s dick just so over his prostate. When he gets to Patrick’s hole, his fingertips skirt the stretched out skin carefully, feeling how tight Patrick is pulled around him, how messy he is with suntan oil. “Gonna fuck your tight little hole.”
“Jesus, Jonny, you better not put a fucking finger inside me,” Patrick says harshly, practically a sob as he struggles not to sit down on Jonny’s dick. “I’m gonna go off like a fuckin’ rocket anyway.”
“Just like feeling you there,” Jonny admits, as if that’s some great secret to Patrick. “Hold on,” he adds, waiting until Patrick has a grip on his shoulders before he grabs his hips with both hands and fucks up into Patrick.
“Oh shit, oh shit, ” Patrick moans, reaching down to squeeze the base of his dick. Jonny can feel the little ripples of the orgasm he’s trying to hold back starting in his body, clenching rhythmically around his ass as Jonny pounds into him without giving Patrick a moment to adjust. He can see Patrick’s balls drawn up all tight against his body, so ready to spill their hot come onto Jonny’s stomach. “I can’t - Jonny, I can’t ,” he whines, and Jonny sits up a little more, until their chests are close together, arms around Patrick, pressed up the length of his back, and Patrick can hide his face in Jonny’s neck, whimpering.
It’s not a great angle for the long, hard strokes from before, but Jonny can just fit himself inside Patrick and grind up against his sensitive prostate this way, and the angle makes it so tight that he goes lightheaded with it, grunting into Patrick’s ear.
“You can come, Peeks,” Jonny says after just a few moments of grinding up into Patrick’s asshole. Patrick’s cock is caught between them, rubbing against Jonny’s belly and leaking like crazy, and Jonny recognizes the cut off moans Patrick’s making as the noises he makes right before he comes. “Your ass is so fucking hot, I can’t last much longer. I’m gonna go off as soon as you do.”
And Patrick tosses his head back from its hiding spot in Jonny’s neck, whining loudly and licking frantically over his lower lip as he comes, ass spasming up so tight Jonny has to stop moving completely for a moment. He comes all over Jonny’s stomach and chest, that kind of extended, endless orgasm he gets from prostate stimulation that Jonny can never seem to achieve. That’s fine with Jonny - he’d rather watch Patrick have one anyway. Jonny’s still holding Patrick close, and when he’s in the last shivers of his orgasm, Patrick reaches a hand in between them to press his cock against Jonny’s belly, wiping a stray drop of come onto his skin.
“I’m sorry,” Jonny says, wishing he could take a few minutes just to hold Patrick, rub his back, take of his hat and stroke his hair, but they’re on a time limit until Patrick gets too sensitive to take it anymore and Jonny’s so close to the edge that if he doesn’t come right now, he might get himself too worked up to come at all. “I’m sorry, I gotta.”
“Yeah, Jonny,” Patrick says, slumping against him, voice slurry. “Come in my ass, c’mon.”
“Jesus,” Jonny says, rolling into him, both arms wrapped tight around Patrick’s middle. He’s so close and he just wants to get there, just wants to spill inside Patrick’s hot, tight hole.
“You got it, Jonny,” Patrick says a little nonsensically, tightening around him and hissing in sharply through his teeth. “Come on, baby, get it in there.”
And Jonny cries out, tugging Patrick down hard on his dick and pumping his come up deep inside. He lifts Patrick’s face with one finger under his chin, kissing him sloppily, getting all over his cheeks, his chin, but Patrick just grins and kisses him back. Jonny slumps back against the lounge chair they’re in when he’s done, dragging Patrick with him, sprawled across his chest.
“Jonny,” Patrick mutters into Jonny’s chest. “Love you.”
Jonny tosses away his hat so he can kiss the top of his head, a sweaty mess of riotous curls. “My dick getting you emotional?” He jokes, rubbing his chin against Patrick’s curls, feeling his stubble catch in them.
Patrick slaps at Jonny’s chest weakly, groaning. “Say it back, asshole,” he says, not biting.
And Jonny’s powerless in the face of that, especially since he does love Patrick, in the worst, most constantly present kind of way. “I love you, Peeks,” he says, holding Patrick’s face up so he can press kisses against his forehead, his cheeks, the side of his mouth until Patrick whines and they kiss for real, slower and easier than before.
Jonny’s dick’s still inside Patrick, but it slips out when it starts to soften, a little trickle of come leaking out in its wake.
Patrick hums when he feels it, taking Jonny’s hand and dragging behind his body, bringing it to the softness of Patrick’s hole. Jonny groans when he feels his own come slipping out and hooks the very tips of two fingers just inside, resting them inside Patrick’s warmth.
“Taze,” Patrick moans when he feels them.
“Not too much?” Jonny asks, wriggling his fingers just a little.
Patrick sighs happily, shifting until he’s more comfortably sprawled across Jonny’s chest, face tucked back in his neck. “Feels good,” Patrick promises. “I like it.”
Jonny rubs his other hand over Patrick’s back, digging his fingers into the tense muscle low on Patrick’s back until he starts to melt into the touch, lips pressing slow, lazy, sticky kisses against Jonny’s neck. Patrick’s come is drying sticky between them, but Jonny doesn’t care. After all, Patrick’s right - they have a hell of a shower, and they’ll have to take advantage of it later. Once either of them feels like moving.
“But it wasn’t - the whole thing wasn’t, um. Too much, I mean?” Jonny asks, a little worried that the whole sort of fucking in public thing had been a little beyond Patrick’s comfort zone.
Patrick snorts, body vibrating against Jonny’s chest. “You mean showing my ass off for the entire fuckin’ resort to see?” He asks, pulling back briefly to wink at Jonny. But he sighs and relaxes against him against just as quickly, muttering unhappily when Jonny’s fingers start to slip from his ass until Jonny fixes them them, tips just barely stretching Patrick open. “It was good, Jonny, I promise.”
Jonny relaxes, hand resuming it’s up and down motion on Patrick’s back. “Yeah,” he agrees. “It was good.”
“Better than napping all day, am I right?” Patrick asks, lips curving into a grin that Jonny can feel against his throat.
Jonny hums, though he doesn’t disagree. “Kinda seems like you’re headed for a nap right now,” he observes, feeling how sleep-heavy Patrick is getting against him, body sagging as Jonny takes more of his weight.
“Ugh,” Patrick says, sitting up a little and running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Not till we shower,” he says. Jonny hums again, noncommittal as he closes his eyes, resting his head back against the chair. “Jonny, c’mon, not till we shower, we’re fucking disgusting. I’ve got an ass full of suntan oil and jizz. It’s not healthy to sleep like that.”
Jonny groans, wanting nothing more than to pass back out in the hot glare of the sun, sleep for a few more hours with Patrick on top of him, but he knows Patrick won’t shut up until he gets his way, so he opens his eyes, sitting up and adjusting Patrick until his legs are wrapped around Jonny’s middle. “Hold on,” he says, rising from the chair and lurching forward a little jerkily, center of gravity off balance with Patrick’s extra weight in his arms.
Patrick yelps delightedly, kicking his heels against Jonny’s back as he carries him to the shower. “Shit, baby, you should’ve been doing this all week,” he says, like Patrick’s not dense with muscle just like Jonny and way too heavy to carry around all over the place.
“I’m just doing this now so you’ll shut the fuck up and let me sleep,” Jonny says, dropping Patrick so he can twist the hot water on. But then he backs Patrick up against the cool tile wall of the shower and kisses him breathless, fingers twisting in the curls at the nape of his neck, so he’s pretty sure Patrick’s way too smart to fall for his bullshit.