I Do I Did

Thirty Six

(Probably a little Smutty AF tbh)

Patrick felt good.

His body was under the poisonous effects of his favorite alcohols. He'd just come from the first stress free day he'd had in a long time. Nothing major. Just a day out shopping for art supplies with William and then a few drinks at the bar. But only as friends. They barely even touched as they danced against each other on the floor.

He knew he'd promised Pete to stay away from him. But it wouldn't have been fair to just throw William's friendship away. He was so nice to Patrick when Pete. . . wasn't. So when he got a few texts begging to hang out he thought, why not? He should be allowed to have friends.

So he'd lied to his husband and told him he was hanging out with Brendon today. Not because he wanted to lie. But because he didn't want Pete to beat the hell out of William. Poor guy. He already had his nose broken.

Patrick giggled as he remembered the dark circles under William's eyes and the bruising on his nose. It made him look silly.

He pushed against the front door of the house before remembering he had to use his key. He rested one hand on the door, pushing his bags up to his wrist and arms. His other hand dug through his pocket for the key. That was, until his hand accidentally twisted on the knob and it pushed open. Someone left it unlocked. Pete was gonna be pissed at them.

He walked in And dropped his bags on the floor. Hopefully one of the maids would pick it up before morning. He turned and tried to quietly close the door. Of course it slammed anyway. He locked it and smiled proudly. Pete would thank him later.

"Patrick."

He jumped at the sound of his name being called. He spun around but faced nothing but darkness. He could feel himself freaking out. His fogged mind making it worse.

A light flicked on- the one beside the piano- revealing a clearly upset Pete. He sat on the bench with one leg crossed over the other and his arms crossed over his bare chest. Patrick's sucked in a breath. Pete wearing nothing but pajama bottoms was amazing. He was such a babe.

"Hey, Pete." He smiled as he walked over to his husband.

"Where the fuck were you?"

He flinched at his hard tone before the influenced smiled returned to his face.

"Out with Brendon. We went-"

"Don't fucking lie to me." He snapped.

"I was. We-"

"Brendon's been here since early this afternoon."

Patrick's eyes bulged at the words. It probably would have been smart to confirm his lie with Brendon before using his name. He tried to think of a new lie as quickly as he could.

"I-"

"I saw the little poem in your notebook." Pete stood up. He wasn't much taller than him but Patrick felt like he was being towered over.

"You went through my notebook?" He tried to flip the argument. "That's my personal-"

"Are you cheating on me?" Pete asked the question calmly. But at the same time his hand was reaching up to circle itself around Patrick's neck.

"Pete." He tried to sound reassuring. Which was hard to do when you were terrified. "I would never-"

"It's almost one in the morning." His hand tightened a little. Patrick grabbed at his strong fingers with both of his hands. "Who were you with until one in the morning?"

"Pete-"

"What were you doing until one in the morning?"

"I-I was out with a friend."

"Friends don't stay out together until one in the morning. And then bring you back to your husband smelling like smoke and alcohol." His hand tightened more.

Patrick began panicking at the loss of air. "Did you take your pills?" He barely managed to get the words out.

"No." Pete's response was just like his eyes. Calm and dark. Unsettling.

"Baby," He choked out. "You need to take your-"

"Was it him?"

"Who?"

"Him!" His other hand joined the first and Patrick began feeling lightheaded. He thought Pete couldn't hurt him. He said he couldn't physically harm him.

"Yes." No point in lying and making it worse.

Pete's hands lossened slightly. A scary look filling his gaze. He smirked slightly. "I'm going to kill him."

"We didn't do any-"

"I'm. Going. To. Kill. Him." He said again. Daring Patrick to go against it.

"O-Okay." He nodded against his hard hands. Of course it wasn't okay. But he wasn't going to say that now.

"I want to kill you." Those words were said softer.

"You- You do?"

He nodded unapologetically. "We were doing so good and you fucked it up." His hands lossened completely. He grabbed Patrick's face in his hands. His thumbs tracing hard lines on his chin. "But I can't." Patrick relaxed in his hands. "I want to hurt you so so bad."

"I'm sorry." He breathed the words.

Pete shook his head. "Not as sorry as you could be." He shook Patrick's head in his hands gently. "Not as sorry as your friend's going to be."

"Pete, P-Please don't-"

He pressed his lips against Patrick's to shut him up before he pissed him off even more. Patrick sighed into his mouth. Pete frowned at the strong, bitter alcohol flavor. He pulled away.

"Your mouth taste horrible." Patrick blushed in embarrassment. Pete moved his lips to his neck, making Patrick squeal. "It tastes better here."

He leaned his entire body onto Pete's. Pushing his hips out to meet his. Pete reached between them. Snatching the button to Patrick's jeans off. Splitting the zipper.

Patrick quickly kicked off his shoes. He wasn't sure how far this was going to go but he was sure he wanted to be ready for it. Pete yanked down his pants and boxers.

Patrick didn't have the time to be embarrassed. He stepped out of the bottoms just as Pete lifted him off the ground. His legs instinctively wrapping around Pete's waist.

Pete glanced around for the closet wall and groaned in frustration. They were all too far away. Much too far away. He did a one eighty and sat Patrick on top of the piano. Kicking the bench to the side.

Patrick's arms wrapped around Pete's middle as he sucked permanent kisses into his skin. Pete pushed himself closer to Patrick. Causing the keys to push down. Spitting out an ear scratching tune.

He reached down in front of him to spread apart Patrick's legs. He used his other hand to align himself with Patrick's entrance. He could have easily carried him into the room and prepared him with his favorite lube. But Patrick didn't deserved that. Pete wanted it to hurt. At least a little.

So in one, swift movement, Pete thrust into him. Almost completely dry. Patrick whimper as his fingers clawed themselves agasint Pete's shoulder blades. His narrow back arched, bringing his chest even closer to his. Their ragged movements pushing down even more keys.

Pete brought his hands up to Patrick's hair. Yanking at the ends of it. More of the skin on Patrick's neck exposed itself as his head tilted towards the pulling. Pete pushed in faster. Harder. His teeth tugged at Patrick's neck. Leaving marks that'd surely be sore in the morning light.

"Pete." His nails dug deeper. "Pete!"

Patrick moaned his name in rhythms like sweet lyrics. Matching the uneven, dirty tune of the piano keys. It was literal music to Pete's ears. And as Pete slid in and out of him easily, he begged himself to remember this body heating song.