Peterick Oneshots :)

why we pretend II

Patrick couldn't be too sure. He walks out of his car with a hood and a tool box. Chilly air enters his lungs as he takes deep breaths. He's doing this. He gets to see Pete.

Not just look at him, but talk to him and interact. He can't wait.

His knuckles eventually tap the door, and he steps back to wait. The door pops open seconds later as if Pete was waiting.

Pete doesn't speak, he simply steps aside to let Patrick in the warm house. When the door closes, Pete smirks.

"I see you brought a tool box and everything." Pete laughs. He grabs it, and there's only a pair of scissors, a hammer, and some nails.

"I'm a repair guy." Patrick beams.

"The cutest repair guy I've ever met." Pete tugs Patrick's hips to his own and claims the soft lips.

They're like crack. He misses Patrick's body, he misses Patrick's lips. He went cold turkey, and now he wants it more then ever.

"I missed you so much, Patrick." Pete cups Patrick's face to survey it.

Pale skin. Button nose. Blushed cheeks. Twinkling eyes. Plush lips. He's a goddamn dream.

"You're perfect." Pete whispers.

Patrick shakes his head. "I'd say you are. You're fucking... handsome."

"I feel like handsome wasn't the word you were going to use." Pete raises an eyebrow.

"I-I--"

"Enhance your vocabulary, Patrick. Tell me what you were going to see." Pete grins, using his English teacher voice.

"Sexy," Patrick whispers.

Pete stares, loving how Patrick's face blushes a deep red, and how his lip is tugged between his teeth. Pete crashes their lips together again, this kiss dirtier than the rest. Patrick allows Pete pick him up, hands under his thighs. Pete falls on the couch, Patrick's sitting on Pete's thighs, legs on either side of Pete's legs.

They French kiss, and their hands run rampant around each others bodies. They're going far, really fucking far. Patrick's ready, he wants Pete with every cell in his body. The won't get the chance again for a while.

"Babe, wait." Pete breaks the kiss, grabbing Patrick wrists.

Patrick frowns, hands dropping the hem of Pete's shirt. "What's wrong?"

"I-I don't think sex is a good idea right now." Pete moves his hands to grab Patrick's, caressing the pale skin over his knuckles.

"Are you not ready?"

"I'm more than ready."

Patrick looks hurt. "Is it me?" He averts his eyes.

"God, no!" Pete cups Patrick's face in his hands. "It's not you. I love you so much. I really want to fuck you, really I do. But it's just a bad idea."

"Why? We won't have the chance again for a while."

"You're right. I'm just--" His hands let go of Patrick's face. Unsure of what to do with them, he runs them up and down Patrick's thighs. "--just a little scared."

"Of what? She's not here, we're alone."

"I'm not scared of her. I'm scared that," He sighs. "I'm scared that if we have sex, it'll be harder to not kiss you or touch you after class. Like I said, you're like crack."

"It'll calm the urge though..."

"For a little. Then I'll want you again."

"Then we can meet here again on winter break."