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“Against the wall,” Jonny said softly, pushing Patrick where he wanted him, leaning in. “Okay?”
He wasn’t expecting any answer other than ‘yes,’ but he waited for Patrick’s hell, yeah, Jonny, before continuing, anyway. Just because. Because he wanted to hear it.
He pressed Patrick up against the wall next to the bedroom door, using his chest to hold him in place, flush to Patrick’s back. He dropped a kiss to the top of Patrick’s head, then his temple, lower, to the corner of his jaw. Let his lips linger as he reached down and took hold of Pat’s wrists, squeezing them gently.
“Stay here,” he said, raising Pat’s hands and pressing them to the wall above his head. “Close your eyes.”
“Jonny, come on, man,” Pat whined, but he was doing it, letting his forehead touch the cool plaster, eyes falling shut. He was still fully dressed - they both were - just jeans and a t-shirt, sneakers kicked off carelessly somewhere in Jonny’s hallway. The black material was stretched tight and thin across his shoulders, and Jonny stepped back and let himself look for a minute.
Pat had been back for a week, but jonny hadn’t been able to get his hands on him until now and he wanted to appreciate it. Pat’s hair was a little long, curling at the back of his neck, and the jeans hung too low on his hips, barely hanging on above the swell of his ass. Jonny catalogued the little, insignificant changes, and found himself almost dizzy with relief and want. Pat was back, he was home.
“Jonny,” Pat whispered, questioning, and Jonny shook his head, pressed the palm of his hand to the nape of Pat’s neck, right under those soft curls.
“Stay,” he said again, and walked away to grab the sharpie from his bedside table.
He’d bought it a couple of weeks ago, in anticipation of this, the thickest he could find - black, permanent ink. They came in packs of two, and he’d tossed the extra one in the cupboard in his kitchen that held all sorts of random junk - spare keys, the manuals for his oven and dishwasher, a small graveyard of dead biros.
But this one he’d kept closer. He’d thought about it there in that drawer, thought about what he was gonna use it for, and he’d jerked off maybe a couple of times picturing it, come thinking about ink on skin and the way Pat sounded when he said Jonny’s name.
He’d been waiting for this.
When he turned back, he had to pause for a second just to take in the way Pat looked. The plastic of the marker felt smooth and somehow obscene in his hand, and he realised he should have grabbed some scissors, too, to cut away Pat’s clothes. Because fuck, he loved this, the sight of Pat in his room, stretched out, holding himself the way Jonny wanted him, keeping still under Jonny’s gaze. Jonny didn’t want to move him, wanted to keep him that way and rip away everything between them, just...
He crowded up close again, tugged at the hem of Pat’s t-shirt and then pushed it up, running his hand along the ridge of Pat’s spine, exposing his smooth, pale skin. The muscle on Pat’s sides, just above the waistband of his jeans, was somehow both hard and soft, just begging him to grab and squeeze, press his fingers in and leave marks to show where he’d been.
“Pat,” he whispered softly, staring again, hand bunching Pat’s t-shirt in the middle of his back. “I missed you so much.”
“I know,” Pat said, and he kind of sounded like an asshole, but it was also soothing, validating. “Hey, Jonny, do what you gotta do, man.”
Jonny leaned down and put his mouth over Pat’s left shoulder blade, right behind his heart. He paused for a second, just breathing, imagining he could feel the steady thump through Pat’s skin and bone, and then he bit down hard, sinking his teeth in and feeling Pat tense and gasp beneath him. But God, Pat still kept his hands to the wall, right where Jonny had put them, and it was unbelievable that he would do this for Jonny, give this to him like a gift.
“Okay,” Jonny said, then, and pulled Pat back a little, yanking up his t-shirt and ripping it over his head before grabbing both his wrists in one hand and slamming them back against the wall.
“Fuck,” Pat groaned, and Jonny reached down to the front of his jeans, felt him rock hard and trembling, felt the way he automatically started to move against Jonny’s hand.
“Good,” Jonny said roughly. “Yeah, that’s real good, Pat.”
And then he uncapped the sharpie.
He hadn’t practised this or anything, he wasn’t doing anything fancy, but he’d thought a lot about how he wanted it to look. Thick, black, block letters, stretching all the way across the top of Pat’s back, huge and - and monumental, somehow.
“The guys’ll see it,” Pat had said dubiously when Jonny had explained what he wanted over Skype weeks ago, when Patrick was still in Switzerland. Jonny sitting on his couch in Chicago, watching Pat all sprawled out on his bed with his laptop, boxers pushed down around his knees, lazily palming his cock.
“Tell ‘em you lost a bet,” Jonny had shrugged, eyes following the movement on Patrick’s hand. “I’m always beating you at shit.”
Patrick had smirked, and Jonny knew he’d won. Had it confirmed a little later when Pat was coming and groaning for him, “Yeah, do it, Jonny, do it if you wanna, make me yours...”
And now there they were, back home, together, and Jonny was tracing out the letters with his fingertip while Pat shivered under him and said those words again.
“Yeah, do it.”
Jonny took a deep, slow breath, and started on the ‘T’.
At the first touch of the marker against his skin, Patrick let out a low sob, the kind of noise that got into Jonny’s blood and made him lose his balance. He flattened his free hand across Patrick’s ribs, considered the black line slashing down his back.
“You good?” he asked, and Patrick let out a broken laugh.
“Oh yeah.”
Jonny hesitated for a minute, and then repositioned Pat’s arms, moving them down and out a little to shift the play of bone and muscle in Pat’s back. When he was happy with his canvass he let out a low, satisfied sigh that made Pat smile to himself, and got back to work.
He drew the outline of the letters first, from shoulder-blade to shoulder-blade, and then carefully colored them in, making the capitals bold and solid. The sweet, chemical scent of the sharpie filled the air, surrounding them, and it struck Jonny that this was maybe the most intimate thing they’d ever done. Fucking around was one thing, and god knew they’d done plenty of that, but this was about something deeper, something Jonny didn’t really know how to put into words. Didn’t know how to express even in his own head, but Pat - Pat was right there with him, Pat understood even when Jonny wasn’t entirely sure he did himself.
It was something more than sex, but fuck, he was so fucking hard, his cock a constant, distracting heat, and every time he checked, Pat still had his eyes closed, mouth open, panting against the wall.
“Jesus, Pat,” Jonny murmured, tracing the ink carefully around the sharp points of the ‘W’. “This is insane. You’re gonna look...”
“I wanna see,” Pat whined, shifting a little, fidgeting until Jonny scratched at his side to calm him.
“Wait,” he said, and Pat sighed, stilled.
It didn’t take Jonny long to finish. He stroked around the curve of the ‘S’ one last time and then stepped away. The black ink was wet, gleaming dully in the glow of the bedside lamps, and to Jonny, the letters - thick, dark and harsh against Pat’s skin - were the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.
‘TOEWS’, spread across Patrick’s back like the nameplate of a jersey, the same size. An unmissable and unmistakable stamp of ownership.
Jonny felt like he was going to cry, or come, or something, felt his heart trying to pound its way out of his chest. He leaned in and blew a shaky breath out over the letters, making Pat shiver again.
“I wanna see,” Pat repeated, sounding a little desperate, now. He was tense all over, muscles standing out, casting shadows all over his back, highlighted by the dim lamps. “Jonny, fuck, I’m letting you do this, you have to let me see. Show me what you’ve done.”
“Yeah, okay.” Jonny slipped his phone out of his pocket with trembling hands, found he had to move back a ways before he could fit the whole thing into the picture. He took the shot, eyes flicking between the picture on his phone and the real thing in front of him, almost overwhelmed.
“Jonny. Show me.”
Jonny leaned against the wall next to Pat, held up the phone. Pat’s eyes blinked open, and he turned his head to look, staring at Jonny’s face for a moment before dropping his gaze to the picture.
Jonny watched his eyes widen, his cheeks flush red, and it made him that much closer to the edge to see the pleasure naked on Pat’s face.
“Oh, my god,” Pat said, and sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it. “Jonny, oh my fucking god.”
“You like it?” Jonny asked, stupidly unsure.
Pat just looked at him. His biceps tensed as he struggled to maintain his position, and sweat was starting to gather on his brow, starting to wet the little curls of hair around his face.
“Do I like it?” he asked, dazed, and then grinned a small, crooked grin. “Fuck me.”
Well, Jonny guessed that answered that question.
He grinned back, a bit lightheaded, and then before he could stop himself he was straight back to staring at his name on Pat’s skin. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen, making his heart clench, his mind spin.
“Yeah, I wanna fuck you like this,” he said absently, and put both hands on Pat’s waist, thumbs rubbing into the muscle. “Wanna fuck myself into you, all over you, want you covered in me.”
Pat gasped, closing his eyes again, trying to press back against Jonny, keeping his arms where they were but pushing his back into Jonny’s chest, his ass up against Jonny’s groin. “Yeah, all that, I said you can do whatever, you know that.”
And yeah, Jonny did know. It was written right there on Pat’s skn.
He took another long look and rubbed his finger lightly over his name, careful not to smudge the ink. Then on impulse, even though it hadn’t been part of his plan, he dropped to his knees.
“Okay, come on,” he said breathlessly, reaching around to undo Pat’s jeans, shoving them down along with his boxer-briefs. “Get out of these.”
Pat stepped out of them, and Jonny tossed them to one side, not paying attention. He opened his mouth, tilting his head to kiss the side of Pat’s hip, and Pat’s ass tensed and flexed.
“Oh shit, Jonny,” he said weakly and tried to spread his legs. “You gonna...?”
“You bet,” Jonny replied, and moved his wet, sloppy kisses across and down. “Yeah?”
“Just assume yes to everything, man,” Pat said with a soft laugh. “Yeah, fuck yes.”
Jonny bit his lip and looked up Kaner’s back, let his eyes linger on his name again. “I love,” he started, his voice low and hot. “I love hearing you say ‘yes’ to me.”
“I know,” Pat said still laughing a little, and then, “Oh my god,” as Jonny trailed his wet mouth up across Pat’s lower back, down.
“Say it again,” Jonny said, running his hands up Pat’s thighs, stroking his thumbs over his ass, opening him up. “Just - say -”
“Yes,” Pat interrupted. “Yes, yeah, fuck, Jonny, what more do you want, please.” And that was enough for Jonny, it was too much, he leaned in and gave Pat exactly what he asked for like always, tongue licking up and in, making Pat squirm and let out a low groan.
“Come on,” Jonny murmured wetly. “That’s it.” He ate Pat’s ass out like he was kissing him, slow and deep, moaning at the way Pat pushed back against him.
“Fingers,” Pat gasped, “Please, Jonny, fuck-”
“Mmm, yeah, okay.” Jonny sucked his thumb into his mouth, spat a little on his hand, smeared it over Pat’s hole. “Okay, I’m gonna.” He pressed his thumb in slowly, easing it past the soft resistance, and Pat swore, slapped a palm against the wall, his whole body trembling.
“Oh,” he said on a low, guttural groan, voice thick. “Oh, shit yeah.”
Jonny licked over his thumb, flicked a tongue against Pat’s rim a few times, and then pulled back to just watch. Right then Pat was his like a toy, and yeah, he used to write his name in big thick letters on his cars and trucks as well, his initials on the feet of his GI Joes. Something he’d never grown out of, he guessed. He glanced up the thick line of Patrick’s back to his own name, and smiled again, twisted his thumb.
“Can I make you come like this?” he asked, almost casually, and Pat’s spine was arching, his hips canting back as he tried to screw himself down on Jonny’s hand. “Just like this? Up against the wall, on my fingers?”
“Yeah,” Pat muttered, spread his legs a little further. “If you fuckin’ want, man.”
Jonny laughed. “Yeah, I could,” he agreed, and slowly withdrew his thumb, eyes fixed on the way Pat was pink and open for him, ready. “I mean, I could do anything I wanted, right?”
He leaned back in and licked hard, sucked, and these sweet little moans sounded like they were being punched out of Pat, now, over and over. Jesus Christ, it was hot, Pat was hot, here and solid and real, here for Jonny.
“Sound so good,” Jonny mumbled, voice muffled, and reached up between Pat’s legs, sliding the flat of his palm up over his balls. “Should fucking hear yourself, Pat. Come on, you mouthy little fuck, get loud for me.”
“Fuuuuuuuck,” Pat groaned, obliging, and slapped his hand against the wall again as Jonny cupped his dick. His hips were pumping, now, back and forth and he chased what Jonny was giving him, and when Jonny looked up again, Pat was getting shiny with sweat all over, back gleaming.
“Getting closer?” he asked, stroking Pat’s dick with his wet, spit-slick hand. Pat was shaking hard, thighs tense, but he gasped out a laugh.
“Just getting started, don’t -don’t flatter yourself.”
“Oh yeah?” Jonny squeezed Pat’s dick, hard, stared as he bucked into it, and then let go. “Maybe I won’t let you come like this at all, then. Maybe you can fucking wait.”
Pat groaned, breath sounding rough and laboured. “Fuck you, Jonny, fuck...please...”
Jonny took a deep breath and then hauled himself to his feet, grabbing onto Pat’s hips for balance. He crowded in close again, ran his nose up the side of Pat’s sweaty neck, nuzzled at his ear. “C’mon,” he said, voice as low and hard as he could make it when he felt like he was about to fly apart. “Get your ass over here.” And then he made himself pull away and walk unsteadily to his bed.
Pat stayed where he was for a moment, leaning against the wall and shaking like a leaf. Then he pushed off with a soft grunt, shaking out his arms before following Jonny across the room.
“How do you want me?” he asked simply, like he didn’t know what that would do to Jonny, how that sounded..
Jonny slumped against the headboard, legs spread wide, hands resting loosely on his thighs. “Right here,” he said, crooking his fingers without moving his hand. “Get in here.”
Pat swallowed and licked his lips before putting one knee up on the end of the bed, crawling up slowly. Jonny could just see the letters moving and shifting with the muscles on Pat’s back, and he almost zoned out staring, still caught up in the way it looked.
“You should - you should take off -” Pat gestured, and Jonny blinked and realised he was still fully dressed, cock hard and aching in his boxers, pressed up against the zipper of his jeans.
He shrugged and thumbed at his fly. “Should do it for me,” he said, and let his hand fall back away as Pat took over, all eager, undoing his button and sliding down the zip. Jonny let out a long, slow breath as Pat reach in, bit his lip as Pat slid the back of his thumbnail all up the hard length of his cock through his boxers.
“Pat,” he whispered, touched Pat’s jaw, rubbing his fingers up over his cheekbones. “Don’t fuck around.”
Pat gave him a crooked smile, really just a twitch of one side of his mouth, enough to make his dimple pop. “Sure thing, Jonny.” He pulled Jonny's cock out of his boxers, and studied it, running his fingers underneath the head and up and down the vein. Jonny shifted restlessly under the touch, Pat’s fingers thick and blunt and so fucking talented. People loved to talk about Pat’s soft hands, his light touch, but they had no idea what they were actually capable of. No idea what they could reduce Jonny to, a mess of need. God, Jonny wanted him so bad it hurt.
He reached down, touched the back of Pat’s hand. He wasn’t going to beg, fuck, he was supposed to be making Pat beg, but he didn’t need to. Pat gave him an amused look, and then opened his wet mouth, sliding his lips over the head of Jonny’s cock and sinking down with a soft moan.
Jonny let his eyes slip closed for just a moment, slipping into the intensity of Pat’s mouth closing tight around him, and then he snapped them open again, remembering, remembering what this was about -
“Oh my god,” he whispered, and normally he couldn’t keep his eyes off Pat’s face when he was doing this, all pink cheeks and spiky lashes, but this time his gaze slid further, to the back of Pat’s shoulders and the blackness of his name spelled out across them. It was impossible how hot it was, that Pat was tucked in between his legs blowing him with that on his back, like he was made for it, made for Jonny.
Because it was Pat and Jonny sometimes felt like he’d spent half his life fighting to keep up, just keep holding on tight to what they had. And now Pat was just giving it all to him like it was nothing, like it was natural, letting himself be taken and Jonny didn’t know what he’d done to deserve it, didn’t want it to ever stop.
“You look so - “ he started, and then shook his head, hazy and slow out of nowhere, like Pat’s mouth had drugged him. He ran one hand over Pat’s thick shoulders, traced his fingers lightly across the tops of the letters. “This looks so fucking perfect,” he finished, and Pat was staring up at him, eyes dark and glistening and so damn knowing.
“You should always look like this,” Jonny added stupidly, and Pat made a noise of agreement, his tongue tracing up and down Jonny’s shaft, sloppy and filthy. Jonny’s hips jerked up, and Pat went with it, opening up and pushing down further like he was inviting more. Jonny scratched his nails over the T of his name and felt almost lightheaded. He knew he could come like this, spilling into Pat’s mouth and staring at the mark of ownership on his back, knew that for all he’d teased Pat before he was already so close.
But Jonny’d had other plans, and there was still enough sense left in his sex-dumb brain to remember that, remember the times he’d jerked off thinking about exactly what he’d wanted to do here. He was still in charge, just for now, just while Pat let him, and he wanted so bad to...fuck.
God, but it was hard to convince himself to give up Pat’s mouth, though. The first shoves at Pat’s shoulder were half-hearted at best and Pat ignored them, taking Jonny deeper until Jonny could feel the tightness of his throat, was nudging at it, his cock pulsing and oh, oh fuck, no, wait -
“Pat,” he gasped, and pushed him harder, tugged at his hair. “Wait, wait.”
Pat finally pulled off, sucking in a deep breath, his mouth and chin shiny with spit. “Let me,” he whined, scrubbing the back of his hand over his face. “Let me make you come.”
“Believe me, you’re gonna make me come,” Jonny promised him, and then he was hauling Pat up to his lips, tugging him in for a deep, dirty kiss. Pat groaned, licking into it, and suddenly Jonny remembered what he’d just been doing with his own mouth, what he must taste like, and it made him shudder all over, his dick twitching against Pat’s thigh like Pat was still sucking on it.
“You like it,” he whispered against Pat’s mouth and Pat laughed, low and as dirty as the kiss.
“I like everything you do.”
Jonny crashed their mouths together again, hard, sliding his hand up Pat’s back and imagining he could feel his name against his fingertips. Pat was straddling him, trying to press their dicks together and even though it felt fucking amazing it was still wrong.
“Turn around,” Jonny said, wrenching away at last, twisting his head to the side for a second so Pat’s lips could stop being so fucking tempting.
“What?” Pat asked, sounding as dumb as Jonny felt, and Jonny ran his hand down to Pat’s ass, pushed two fingers up against where he was still wet with Jonny’s spit. He put his mouth to Pat’s ear, that place that made him shiver.
“Turn the fuck around so you can ride me,” he said, and Pat twitched like Jonny had shot a bolt of electricity through his body, dick painting precome in a sticky smear all over Jonny’s abs.
“So you can see?”
Jonny grinned at him. “I mean. Yeah.”
Pat grinned back.
The lube was in Jonny’s bedside drawer, and they hadn’t used condoms in a while so it was easy. Easy to get Pat ready, easy to get him kneeling over Jonny’s hips with his legs spread and his own fingers holding himself open. Jonny leaned back against the bedhead - still fully dressed, he realised, which hadn’t been part of the fantasy but was turning out to be pretty fucking hot anyway. He cock was making a mess of his jeans, his shirt was pushed up to his chest but was still a wreck of lube and precome and, somehow, spit. Like Jonny cared. He’d keep it to jerk off into, probably, thinking about this.
The light in the room made Pat’s body into something maybe more beautiful than it was, golden and forgiving, like everything was in a dream, and the streaks of lube over his thighs and ass were painted on like highlights. “Fuck you’re hot,” Jonny said out of nowhere, surprising himself. Maybe what he lacked in eloquence he made up for in meaning though, because Pat laughed and sucked that up, beaming over his shoulder and arching his back a little.
“So screw me,” he said, casual as shit, and fine, okay. Jonny spilled lube all over everything, messy in his eagerness to get in that.
The first push, after a couple of clumsy fingers that had Pat swearing and tilting his hips for more, was almost too tight, too hot. It was like something in a wet dream, a ridiculous fantasy that could never actually happen in real life. And they’d fucked a lot, it wasn’t like this was new. But Jonny almost shied away from how into it he was, had to fix his eyes on the letters of his name to be able to calm down enough to get into Pat without coming.
“Jonny,” Pat said, thighs tense with the effort of holding himself up, “Jonny, I swear to god, I’ll beg if you want me to, I’ll do anything, just fuck me, fuck me…”
Jonny ran a hand up Pat’s back and got a grip on his shoulder, wrapped the fingers of his other hand around Pat’s hip and squeezed. “Say,” he started, panting, blinking his eyes against the sweat already dripping into them. “Say it again.”
He had to trust that Pat knew what he meant, and Pat did, of course Pat did, he was made for Jonny, it was all over his back. He arched his spine, got his knees under himself properly and looked over his shoulder again, one dimple showing, his face a hectic red.
“Yes. Jonny, Jonny, yeah.”
And Jonny groaned, flexed back and fucked up into him hard, an almost vicious thrust that shoved Pat forward, only held in place by Jonny’s hands. It was blinding.
“That’s it,” Pat moaned deep in his chest, head hanging forward and body boneless in Jonny’s grip. “Please, c’mon, take it.”
“You take it,” Jonny gasped, and fucked up again, and over and over, until the bed was slamming against the wall and Pat was shaking and Jonny’s entire world was narrowed down to two things - the feel of his body against Pat’s and the sight of his name stretched huge across Pat’s shoulders.
It was fast, like Jonny’d known it would be, and brutal. Pat did his best to brace himself against Jonny, let himself be used, and that was part of the gift, Jonny would think if he could think at all. Pat giving himself over like that, opening himself up. He wasn’t even jerking off, and Jonny wanted him to come - of course, of course - but that was hot too. That right then it was about Pat being there for Jonny and nothing else, by choice.
“I’m gonna come all over you,” Jonny ground out, pumping his hips. “Gonna get you off while you’re covered in it -”
“So do it,” Pat breathed, egging him on. “Come on, Jonny. Come, come, come…”
“Fuck.” It felt so good, Jonny felt his breath catch in his chest, felt the almost irresistible urge to slam Pat down and hold him there, come hard into the tight heat of his ass. But he’d thought about this moment for too damn long to lose it now, so he indulged himself in one more thrust, fuck it, two more, and then used every ounce of his willpower to stop.
Pulling out might have been the toughest thing Jonny had ever done in his entire life. But he knew it was worth it the moment he got his hand on the back of Pat’s neck and pushed, when Pat just went down so easy, slumping forward onto the mattress with his legs still spread and his ass in the air. “Stay - stay there,” Jonny said, voice tight as he slung a leg over Pat’s back, straddling him, knowing his jeans were rough on the smooth skin of Pat’s side.
“Oh my god, come already,” Pat moaned, cheek pressed into the comforter, curls soaking wet now and dripping into his eyes. “Take it, Jonny.”
And yeah, there it was. Jonny flicked his wrist, fingers tight around his cock, wet and filthy with lube, and then it hit him, his orgasm barreling through him violently. He came all over Pat’s back, his shoulders, striping his name with hot streaks of jizz, and again he couldn’t breathe as he watched it drip down and smear the ink.
“So good,” he murmured, dropping his hips forward to wipe his cock off on Pat’s back, tracing it around the O of his name. “Oh fuck that was so good.”
“Yeah?” Pat pushed up a little underneath him, twisted his head back. His eyes were half closed, his mouth hanging open, and his cheeks were still that mottled red, hot to touch. “You liked that?”
“Oh, yeah,” Jonny promised, and wiggled back until he could get a hand around Pat’s waist, wrap it around his hard dick. “Loved it.” He laughed a little in disbelief. “Jesus, Pat.”
“Don’t you fucking forget it,” Pat slurred nonsensically, and then dropped back down to the mattress, letting his eyes fall completely closed and he thrust his cock into Jonny’s grip, desperate.
“Hey, I got this,” Jonny said softly, and pressed his weight down, holding Pat still while he jerked him off slow and easy. He could tell Pat wanted to go fast, want to come right then, but Jonny was still feeling little trembly aftershocks and his whole body wanted to just slow down, get lazy and relaxed.
His come was sliding down Pat’s spine and over his ribs, some collecting at the nape of his neck and getting in the links of his chain. Jonny smiled. “Feel that, Pat? You’re covered in it.”
“Shut up, make me come, oh my god, Jonny, please,” Pat begged, and Jonny hummed, speeding up his hand just a little.
“You look good like this, covered in my name and my jizz,” he said, low in Pat’s ear. “Wanna keep you this way. Come all over you whenever I feel like it.”
“You could, oh, oh -”
“You’re gonna let all the boys see this,” Jonny continued. “You’re gonna say you just lost a bet, but you’ll know I know.”
“Yeah Jonny, keep going. I’m so close, please, I’m so close.”
“You’ll know you fucking begged for me to mark you up and jerk off on you. You begged for it, Pat. You said please.”
Pat shuddered and let out a low, broken groan as his cock jerked in Jonny’s hand. Jonny watched greedily, eyes fixed on his tight muscles, his red, bitten mouth, the way his lashes were wet and dark, spread out over his cheekbones. And then Pat was coming, hard, shaking as his jizz pumped out onto the comforter, hot over Jonny’s fingers.
Jonny sighed in satisfaction, his cock throbbing again in sympathy. “Good boy,” he whispered in Pat’s ear, and then chuckled as he dodged the weak elbow Pat tried to shove into his stomach.
“Shut up,” Pat gasped, trying to catch his breath, chest heaving. “Oh my god.”
“Hey now, how’s that for gratitude?” Jonny asked and rolled off and to the side, laying out flat with his head at the foot of the bed and his feet pushing up under the pillows.
“Fuck off,” Pat whined and then wiggled a little, wrinkling up his nose. “Ugh, I’m covered in it.”
“Yeah you are,” Jonny said smugly, and then frowned as he looked down at his own ruined shirt and jeans. “Christ. At least you can just take a shower.”
Pat raised his head with visible effort and looked Jonny up and down. “Fucking filthy,” he said, and then slumped down again. “Do I really have to show up to practise like this?”
“Well,” Jonny said, and hauled himself up to his feet, stripping and throwing his dirty clothes into a corner. “I guess you can wash the come off first.”
“Oh is that right? You’re a good man, Jonathan Toews.”
Jonny paused in the doorway to the bathroom and looked back at the bed. Pat was still on his stomach, chin propped up on his hands, and the tired smile he gave Jonny was beatific. “You’ve got some issues, dude,” Pat said, dimpling away, and Jonny scoffed.
“You liked it.”
“Well, obviously.” Pat pushed up, got to his feet. He was streaked with come front and back, and fuck, Jonny didn’t even care. He stepped forward and pulled Pat into a hug, holding him close.
“You’re a dickhead,” he said fondly, and hooked his chin over Pat’s shoulder, looking down at his back. The ink was smudged with sweat and jizz, it needed to be touched up already. It made Jonny smirk.
“I really did miss you,” he said quietly, like a secret, and Pat squeezed him tight.
“Yeah,” he said, and kissed Jonny on the shoulder, sweet and soft. “Yeah, Jonny, I know.”