Loveless (Peterick)

♡4♡

His scent was trapped inside every string of fabric that had been woven into the shirt, and Pete couldn't believe how lucky he was in the moment that Mikey handed over the t-shirt to him during one of their breaks.
"Thanks again," Mikey had told him, "You totally rock."
Pete had sneaked in a few sniffs throughout the day, and he knew it was entirely strange, but he wanted to know what it was like to be close to Mikey, to cuddle with him and hug him and kiss him like there was no fucking tomorrow. He wanted it so badly, and he could hardly contain himself at the idea of how soon it would come. He'd gotten home around four in the afternoon after a long, laborious day of pumping out a six page report to Ray about the reception his articles that month had received.

Most of it was actual, critically thought-out analyzing, but the last couple pages were really just bullshit because he didn't want to stay over-time to finish it to perfection. It wasn't like Ray read anyone's reports thoroughly. He only skimmed them to ensure they were all doing their job and not riding his coattails through life. Once Pete had caught Mikey through his office window pouring him some whiskey while Ray tossed the papers into the shredder, lit a cigar, and kicked back in his chair. Their boss really was something else.

Pete collapsed onto his couch with Mikey's t-shirt still in his grasp, so he unfolded it and examined every stitch and thread, trying to etch it into his mind before he would have to give it back the next day. He'd always fantasized about having sex with him- Mikey. It was something that would just naturally occur to Pete once he had began to fall deeper into Mikey's clutches. He wondered some more as he held the shirt up, and then he dropped his hands onto his lap whilst Mikey's face entered Pete's thoughts. His fingers worked his belt until it was undone and slid his zipper down.

He wiggled his jeans and boxers down his thighs, and they pooled around his ankles. Mikey's shirt rested beside him, and he had the wild idea of using it in his pleasure. It wasn't like Mikey would ever know if Pete washed it, so he took the sleeve and wrapped a part of it around his throbbing cock and began to rub it along his shaft. The dry material scratched his skin, but he didn't care because the fact that it was Mikey's outweighed any discomfort he experienced. He quickened his movements with his head fallen back on the cushioning of the couch, and he could feel somewhere in between the broken gasps that escaped his lips and visions of Mikey bent naked over a desk a knot twisting tight in his stomach.

He thought about the soft skin of his hips squeezed underneath his grip as he rammed into the taller man with a quicker beat than the last. He thought about him sweaty and used and fucking exhausted with Pete's cum decorating his pretty face. He thought about every part of his co-worker in every situation and position he ever wanted him. The knot was twisted to the point where it could twist no more, and Pete came hot and sticky all over the upside of his thumb and knuckles. His heartbeat returned to normal after a moment or two of breathing, and he looked down to see that Mikey's sleeve had specks of semen across it.

He nearly shit himself. Pete pulled up his jeans and rushed over to his laundry room to grab a stain removing spray off the shelf. He rubbed the liquid into the fabric and tossed it into his washer. Once he'd poured some softener and soap into the slots he finally relaxed and realized how stupid he had been for letting his sexual desires cloud his common sense. His phone vibrated inside his jeans, and he took it out to see it was a text from Patrick.

Patrick: Hey. We're going to do a little role play to get you ready for when you finally take Mikey out. You're going to show me what skills you already have when it comes to planning dates. I'll be over by six. :D

Pete glanced at the time and saw it was almost five. He knew he had to impress Patrick and show him he was worthy of teaching, so he grabbed a pot from one of his kitchen cabinets and began to boil some pasta for a classic spaghetti dish. Then he jumped into the shower to freshen up. When he'd gotten to shampooing his hair he heard a crash that had come from outside the restroom, and he got suds in his eyes. He blindly reached for a towel from the rack on the wall as the stinging worsened and navigated himself to the kitchen where he figured the noise had originated.