Lets Not And Say We Did

Forty

Patrick was clearly under the influence. He was talking to people more openly. Dancing freely around the room. And singing along to songs that Pete was ninety nine percent sure he didn't know.

"Patrick are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" He sashayed over to Pete.

"You're absolutely not fine. I need to get you home."

"Oh you wanna take me home?" His voice lowered.

He rubbed his finger against Pete's neck. Sliding it slowly down his chest. And across his stomach. His finger hooked into the front of Pete's pants and Pete grabbed his wrist. Stopping him from continuing.

"I want to take you home so you can sleep off this damn buzz."

"I'm not sleepy." Patrick stepped closer to Pete. Pressing against the front of him. "I'm hungry."

"You're drunk." He corrected.

He yanked Patrick along with him as he walked around the room looking for Ryan. He spotted him and Brendon near the bathrooms. Talking quietly about something. He dragged Patrick over to them.

"Pete!" Ryan jumped like a child being caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "We were-"

"I couldn't care less. We're leaving."

"We as in.."

"Patrick and I. He's a bit out of it. I want to take him home so he can sleep it off."

"So you want me to take over sales and close up shop?"

"Exactly. Also, text Jefferson and tell him to be waiting for us."

"Will do boss."

As expected, Jefferson was waiting for them out front. Pete opened the back door and held it for Patrick. Patrick slipped in unsteadily.

The ride home felt like it took hours. Patrick spend most of it touching Pete. Running his hands through his hair. Kissing the side of his mouth. Playing with the buttons on his shirt. Rubbing his fingers on Pete's thighs.

And Pete wasn't complaining. He'd just rather Patrick do all this when he was sober. So Pete kept his cool. Trying his hardest not to respond to any of it.

He sighed in relief when the car finally stopped.

He wasn't confident in Patrick's ability to take the stairs so he carried him up the stairs to the front door. One of the maids opened it immediately. Pete carried Patrick up the left flight of stairs in the house. He had to place him down to open the door to Patrick's room.

But before he could twist the knob, Patrick's hands were on him again. Fiddling with the button on Pete's pants. And Pete was going to stop him. Really he was! Until the hand slipped down the inside of the pants.

He closed his eyes against the sensation of Patrick's soft hand touching him. He wasn't sober. This was wrong. So so wrong. He needed to stop him. To push him away. But there was only so much one man was able to take. Patrick's other hand slipped in and Pete's self restraint snapped.

Fuck it! He wanted sex? He was going to get sex. Pete pulled Patrick's hands out of his pants and slammed them against the door. Above his head. Patrick whimpered. But Pete quieted the sound by smashing his lips against his.

His tongue slipped past Patrick's soft lips. For the first time, Pete didn't have to fight for dominance of the mouth. Patrick was all too willing to let him take control. Which was a pleasant surprise.

Pete let go of Patrick's wrist. The younger man's arms dropped to his side. And Pete turned the doorknob, pushing the door open. Patrick stumbled backwards from the sudden lost of support. But Pete grabbed his waist. Crashing it into his own.

Patrick's head was spinning. This was so different. This was so intense. Andy wasn't this rough. Andy didn't hold him this tight. Or kiss him so roughly. His body was buzzing with anticipation. Is this what sex was supposed to be like?

He didn't have much longer to contemplate it because Pete was pushing him onto the bed. But he didn't immediately climb over him. Pete began striping out of his suit jacket. And then one by one the buttons were coming undone. Patrick could only stare in amazement as Pete kicked off his shoes and slid his pants down.

He was very obviously excited. It should be illegal for a man to look so good wearing nothing but a pair of briefs and an unbuttoned shirt. Patrick was sure he was drooling.

Pete leaned over him and slid the jacket off of Patrick. He didn't waste time unbuttoning the shirt. Instead he ripped it open. Striping that from Patrick's body as well. The shoes came off easily. Each hitting the floor with a loud thump. When Pete slid his pants down, Patrick's breathing began to deepen.

Pete kissed him again. This time softer and slower. His lips slid to the side. Kissing along Patrick's jaw. And then down. Kissing around his neck. His lips trailed down to his chest. Kissing a line through the middle. Patrick forgot how to breathe again.

Pete paused when his lips rested on Patrick's bellybutton. His hands reached down to toy with the elastic of Patrick's boxers. His tongue slipped out to trace the circle of Patrick's bellybutton.

Patrick felt like he was going to literally expolde any moment. He couldn't stand it. He was ready to blow.

And then Pete stopped. Patrick wanted to cry. Why did he stop? He stood up just to sit on the bed beside Patrick. It took Patrick a few moments so sit up after him.

He stared at Pete but the room was too dark to see an actual facial expression.

"You were shaking." Pete whispered.

"What?"

"You were shaking." He repeated in the same somber tone. "You're not ready for this."

What? "Pete-"

"You're drunk. I shouldn't have let it go this far."

"I'm not drunk enough not to be aware of everything we're doing."

"But you're still not one hundred percent sober. I shouldn't have-"

"If you don't want to have sex with me than just say it!"

"What? No. Patrick-"

"Don't try to use me as an excuse. I know what I want."

"That's so not it." Pete grabbed Patrick's face in his hands. "I want nothing more than to notch this bedpost until it can't be used anymore." Patrick blushed red and looked away. Pete leaned in closer. "But I don't want to do that unless you're sober."

"Can I drink a glass of water and be considered sober?"

Pete laughed lightly and shook his head. "That not quite how it works."

"Damn."