Chapter Text
A new school year. Pat was psyched. He had convinced his mom to let him get lasik and his dad to get him a car. It felt like a fresh start in so many ways. He managed to get back to campus early, but he was forced to bring Pa. But it didn’t matter. He was so excited to see Pran.
The summer had been harder than Pat had anticipated. It was impossible to put the dynamics of their parents aside when they were on display every day. And it was clearly very difficult for Pran, which was hard for Pat to take.
Being back at school definitely felt like a reset in some ways. Full of more possibilities. Pat had always loved that. The start of things. School years, sports seasons, classes, competitions. Anticipation. Excitement for what was to come.
And after he pushed his way into Pran’s room for the first time that year and they kissed themselves senseless, things felt as though they were back to where they should be.
“Is it all okay with your parents?” Pat asked finally, playing with Pran’s fingers, memorizing the lines of his knuckles, the little bump on his finger where he must hold his drawing pencil, the pads of his fingers that Pat thought would feel a bit rough if he was playing the guitar. But Pat knew he wasn’t.
“They’re how they usually are. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”
Pat scrunched his face. “Pshh, I’ve heard much worse on the field. From you.”
Pran laughed. And Pat hung on the sound for as long as he could. But Pran’s eyes were still soft and uncertain as he looked back at Pat.
“You know, if I was your boyfriend, I could sweep you off somewhere nice. We could forget about all the rest of these jokers.” He squeezed his arms around Pran’s waist, as though he was considering picking him up right now and dragging him away.
“Oh is that so?” Pran said, the lightness back in his voice.
“Mmmm,” Pat said, furrowing his brow as if he was thinking very hard about this. “Maybe somewhere colder. Everyone else would hate it.”
“Then why would we go there?” Pran asked, an exaggerated distaste on his face.
“So we could keep each other warm,” Pat said, pulling Pran into him.
And Pran was laughing again. And everything felt buoyant and light. “Well, you best get your confession ready then.” He pinched Pat’s face. “But, not cold. Ugh, that sounds terrible.”
“Fine,” Pat said, intoxicated by the energy being volleyed between them. “Winner gets to pick,” he said. Pat never really could help himself when it came to challenging Pran. It was the spark that ignited the fire between them, the current that ran through them whenever they were close.
It was love and lust and triumph and surrender. It was them.
Pran’s eyebrow arched, his classic stubborn expression. “Oh, you’re going down,” Pran said, leaning in close. And Pat couldn’t get enough of it.
Pat pushed Pran back on the couch, sliding his lips down Pran’s neck. Pran grasped Pat’s hair, firm and needy.
But they were rudely interrupted by a knock on the door.
Pran tried to get up, but Pat pushed him down. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Just ignore it.”
“Pat, I can’t ignore the door,” Pran said.
“Pran.” Pa’s voice came through the door accompanied by more knocking. “Pran, is Pat in there with you? He said he was coming over here.”
“We’re gonna have to get good at ignoring her,” Pat said, dropping down to kiss Pran’s dimple that had emerged from the pursing of his lips.
“Pat.” Pran’s voice was firm. “Unfriend.”
And oh, right. That was what they had agreed. It was Pat’s idea even. Fine. “Hrmph,” he said. “Okay. But you owe me a rain check,” he said, pointing at Pran for emphasis.
Pran pressed his body against Pat’s back as he moved him toward the door. “Maybe if I had a boyfriend, he’d sleep over here some nights.”
Pat turned around quickly, their bodies now facing one another. “That’s a low blow,” Pat said.
Pran shrugged.
“No, see, you’ve had friends stay here before. You told me, Wai even stayed here. Which you know, you never really gave me all the information on.”
“Ah, ah, ah, fine, friend. Come over later.”
“Pat! I can hear you!” Pa called through the door.
“You best take care of your sister before she beats you senseless.”
When Pran opened the door, Pa was standing there, her arms folded tight, waiting for him. “You won’t get rid of me so easily,” Pat said.
“I know.” Pran gave a coy smile, waving at Pa and shutting the door after him.
And this is how it went. They had come so far. Pat was simply waiting for the right moment. He didn’t care about the bet anymore. He only wanted Pran to be as happy about hearing it as Pat was about saying it. He had it all in his head as he made his way over to Pran’s place, the facewash in his hands, ready to playfully ask for help. Symbolically and literally ready to come clean. Pat thought Pran would appreciate how clever that was.
But things hadn’t gone as he had hoped. Pran was clearly upset about something. His door hanger was flipped on the sad side. All Pat wanted to do was cheer him up.
Instead he got a punch in the gut.
And he knew it would be a mistake to say anything to Pran in the moment. He would regret it. It was too raw. Out of all the things between them, this one stung.
He was not usually so rattled. Pat was completely wound up and not in a good way. The last time he felt like this was when Pran played their song at the Freshy Day concert. And he ended up punching that smug asshole in his face. Pat was frenetically pacing. He was itching for a fight, but he would be better off going on a run or heading to the gym. Anything to let some of this out.
How could Pran have done that? How could he give his guitar to Wai of all people? And then pass it along after Pat had kept it, for years. Years.
“What is wrong with you?” Pa asked, coming out of the bathroom and dropping on her bed.
“It’s nothing,” Pat said. “I think I need to go for a run.” He shoved on his sneakers. Just as he was about to leave, there was a knock at the door. Pat opened it to find Pran holding a bag out to him.
“Who is it?” Pa asked.
“No one, only a nuisance. I’ll get rid of them,” Pat said, pushing Pran backwards and closing the door behind him.
“Why don’t you come over and eat?” Pran said, motioning to his place.
“I’m not hungry,” Pat said. He had sweat beading on his brow. He wasn’t sure if it was from the stuffy, stale air of the hallway in the heat of the summer or his own blood boiling. “I’m on my way out,” he said, turning to leave.
“Pat,” Pran said, grabbing his arm. “Can’t we talk?”
“Talk?” Pat scoffed. “Now you want to talk?” He squared his body, his hands tense on his waist. He had to grab onto something to keep himself steady. “Okay, how about this. I kept seeing all these things. All these things that seemed to show me how long you felt this way and didn’t tell me. The pick. The watch. And I thought, well, if Pran held it in for this long, I can too.” Pat hung his head and let out a breath. He wasn’t sure if he looked at Pran he could finish. “But then you gave the guitar to him, like it didn’t matter.”
Pran tightened his grip on Pat’s forearm. “That’s not why he had it. He had it because it did matter.” Pran’s voice was unsteady. “I had no idea you felt like that. You always tell me what you want.”
Pat pulled his arm free. “No,” Pat said. “I haven't been. But, you’re right. I used to. I didn’t say anything earlier. And I should have.” He waved his arm. “I need an unfriend.”
“Pat!” Pran said, stepping forward.
Pat said simply, “You promised, Pran. If we say it, we give each other a break.”
Pran nodded slowly and stepped back. Pat turned on his heels, not looking back, and continued on his way out of the building.
The next morning Pat found a bag of drinks hanging on his door knob with a note:
I really didn’t get it. I was an idiot. I’m sorry.
That acknowledgment was really all Pat had needed. He didn’t even know it, until he saw those words. He had been holding on for so long and it had felt so isolating.
Pat was never one to hold a grudge, despite his family tendencies. Maybe that is why he never really could hate Pran even before he knew he loved him.
So of course he went as soon as Pran called him to meet on the roof. Pat would never be able to deny Pran. And maybe that was why Pat needled Pran when he asked for help instead of automatically agreeing to be in the play. He thought maybe Pran would finally admit his feelings because he wanted to, not because he needed something. Still, it was a big step for Pran to all but say how he felt. Pat wasn’t going to let that slide, but maybe he’d make him sweat for a bit.
And it was all worth it for the look on Pran’s face when he saw what Pat was willing to do for him. That he could count on him. He would be there.
The walk back to their dorm after play practice was quiet somehow. It was settling knowing they were finally on the same page. What was between them had barely changed and yet it had transformed drastically.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Pran finally said when they made it to the dorm.
“Because you’re an idiot, like you said.” Pat pressed his shoulder against Pran’s as they walked.
“I’m never gonna live that one down, will I?”
“Nope,” Pat said. “I’ll never let you forget.”
And even when Pran asked to come over and started shuffling in Pat’s kitchen, Pat still wasn’t sure what exactly was happening. Something was uncoiling, unfurling between them, loosening, opening up.
Pat’s heart was almost exploding as they sat together in his room. As he looked into Pran’s eyes, there was not even a hint of him wanting to look away. Pran finally, really, truly got it.
“I think I need help with my printer again. Something isn’t quite working still,” Pran said loudly after Pa came barreling in, running to the bathroom.
Pat was blinking up at Pran who had moved back to the table after opening the door. His expression was different. He wasn’t teasing, ready to needle Pat as usual. No. He held out his hand, his eyes flicking toward the bathroom to make sure Pa was still out of eyesight.
Pat took Pran’s hand, their fingers sliding together. “Pa, I’m going out,” Pat called.
Their fingers stayed locked as Pran led Pat from his room to Pran's, while he took out his keychain and clicked open the door, while he shifted the hanger on his door yet again. Happy.
And when Pran turned, pulling Pat into his apartment, the smile on his face was so bright and open. It was as if everything that had been holding them back had simply melted away.
“What are you doing?” Pat asked, as Pran shut the door.
“Sneaking away with my…,” he trailed off.
“I’m sorry, what was that you said? I think maybe I am a bit light headed from not finishing that nice dinner you made for me and I missed something. What were you saying?” Pat rounded Pran so he was backed up to the table.
Pran looked back at him, his gaze straight on now. No more shying away. No more hiding. He raised his hand to Pat’s face. “My Pat,” he said.
Pat cradled Pran’s hand pressed against his cheek. “Yes, I am,” he said.
At this, Pran flinched a bit, but smiled. It was absolutely adorable.
“And what about you?” Pat asked, tilting his head fondly.
Pran’s eyes glistened and it made Pat’s heart shatter. “I’m yours,” he said. Simply. Clearly.
It was all Pat had needed to hear.
And the fact was, he already knew this. He had known it since their first kiss. Because he knew Pran pretty much his whole life. He had seen things he hadn’t understood until this past year. He had been oblivious. They had both been idiots that missed so much. But Pat had spent so much time after their first kiss watching, learning. He got it now. And he knew no one else did.
Pat grabbed Pran’s waist and lifted him onto the table. “Do you want to be with me?” Pat asked, sliding his hands over Pran’s thighs.
“Yes,” Pran said, pulling Pat’s shirt and kissing him. “Here, like this.”
“On the table?” Pat asked. It wasn’t like he had forgotten what Pran had said. In fact, he thought of it over and over again once Pran had said it. But he hadn’t thought Pran would directly ask for them to be together that way.
“Yes,” Pran said, pulling Pat in between his legs, sliding his hands over Pat’s ass, pressing their bodies together.
“I could happily fuck my boyfriend over this table,” Pat said, taking Pran’s earlobe in his teeth and nibbling on it.
They spent a while kissing, grabbing, scuffling, laughing. The weight and depth of getting to be together this way was still there, but the counterbalance of how liberating it felt to just be was euphoric.
Pat was no longer in his head, he was fully in his heart.
Pran jumped off the table and rifled in the drawer next to the couch, grabbing a tube and pulling out a foil square from a box. He walked back over to Pat who was dazed by Pran's chronic preparedness. He kissed Pat again to snap him out of it, casually sliding the objects into Pat’s hand.
Still grasping onto the items, Pat unbuttoned his pants as quickly as he could as Pran removed his own and turned to face away from Pat. It finally occurred to Pat that he could put the condom and lube down, so he placed it on the table, wrapping his arms around Pran, pressing their naked lower halves together. And fuck, it was so good. He wanted this so much.
Pat leaned over Pran, kissing the side of his face, his ears, his neck. He tasted salty and smelled amazing. His Pran.
Pran slid Pat’s hand down over his cock, already half hard. He pressed his body back against Pat’s, his ass sliding up and down Pat’s erection. Pat let out some low “mmmm” sounds as their body moved together. It was so good just like this. But he wanted it to be good for Pran. Pran asked for this. He wanted it. Pat would give him anything he wanted.
Pat took some lube and covered his finger, then moved closer to Pran. “This might be cold,” he said, remembering how he reacted before and not wanting him to tense up. Pran nodded and Pat slid his fingers against Pran’s entrance, until he was able to push them inside.
Pran pressed the palms of his hands on the table, his head lolling as he was gasping for breath. “Please,” he said. “I want you, Pat.”
And fuck, there was no way Pat couldn’t respond to that.
Pat fumbled with the wrapper of the condom, finally getting it open, almost losing his grip on the slippery latex as he tried to unroll it. And yeah, he should have paid better attention in sex ed because he wasn’t actually sure which way this thing even rolled. After a bit of trial and error, he was able to get it fully on, stretched over his full erection.
He was so turned on, he already felt like he couldn’t contain himself. He had imagined this, hoped for this, ached for this. He wanted to be the first one to be with Pran this way, wanted Pran to be the first person he did anything like this with. And now, here they were, about to have sex, like this.
“Pat,” Pran said, still leaning over the table, propping himself up a bit with his elbows. “Is everything okay?”
Shit. Pat was taking too long. “Yeah, sorry, I was making sure it was on right.”
“Oh, okay,” Pran said and he shifted his legs wider, as if he was getting himself ready for Pat. And holy hell, this was going to kill him.
Pat applied lube to himself and said, “I’m going to press a little. But if it is too much, tell me.”
“Okay,” Pran said again.
Pat lined himself up and pressed inside Pran. Just the tip of his cock, enough to feel Pran slide on the head and meet resistance. Pran made a cut off noise, so Pat stopped. But then Pran said, “Keep going.” Pat pulled back and thrust forward in response. And Pran seemed to adjust, moving his body as Pat pushed deeper bit by bit. And fuck, it felt amazing with every movement Pat made. It was so intense that Pat didn’t even realize it when his orgasm hit, overwhelming and forceful, no chance to hold back or keep going.
Fuuccck. Pat was horrified once he could think straight. This was supposed to be some big moment, something he and Pran had been wanting. Something Pran had thought about for years. And Pat couldn’t make it happen.
He let his head drop to Pran’s back, feeling so much intense shame he thought he might be ill. How could it have been this bad? Pat was good at everything. He had to be bad at this?
“Pat?” Pran asked, turning his head. “Are you? Was that?”
“Yes,” Pat said, his voice muffled into Pran’s shirt. “I’m sorry.”
“What, sorry?” Pran said, reaching behind him, grasping at Pat’s hips.
“That isn’t how it should have gone,” Pat said, still speaking into Pran’s back.
“How about I get up,” Pran said. Pat took a hold of himself and pulled himself out of Pran, grateful for the condom and the minimal mess to clean up.
Still, Pat couldn’t help feeling terrible.
Pran pulled his boxers on, uncharacteristically seeming to not care about any mess they had created. He turned to face Pat, raising his hand to Pat’s face. “That was perfect because it was with you.” He kissed the skin under Pat’s ear and moved down his neck, mouthing the soft patches of skin. “And we don’t have to be done yet.”
“Oh, right, of course. We should do something for you,” Pat said, trying to snap himself out of the deep hole his mind had dragged him into.
“I want to go again when you’re ready.”
“What, really?” Pat said, still looking kind of off to the ground. “Why would you want to do that?”
Pran grabbed Pat’s chin and turned Pat to meet his eyes. “I know we are both used to being fucking awesome at everything we do. But sometimes we had to practice. I’m incredibly enthusiastic about getting to practice this.”
Pat was having trouble keeping his mind on track. He was experiencing so many swings, he wasn’t sure if he was up or down. And something about how Pran reacted just broke Pat internally. It was so soft, so open. So reassuring. He was always terrified of failure. Always felt like he was a step away from fucking things up. And here he was, perfectly imperfect and Pran still wanted him.
“Come on,” Pran said, offering his hand. Pat got his mind together enough to clean himself up, dispose of the condom and throw on his boxer briefs. When he was finished he took Pran’s hand and let him lead Pat into his bedroom.
Pran placed the supplies on his end table and sat on his bed, pulling Pat down along with him. He pulled off his shirt, something Pran didn’t often opt to do. He was always a little shy about it. And then he pulled his underwear off and climbed under his blankets. Completely naked.
Pat swallowed hard. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen most of Pran in bits and pieces but this was so fully committed, unequivocal, no hedging, no teetering. He patted the sheet next to him as he held up the blanket. An invitation for Pat to join him. And Pat wasn’t going to let it pass no matter how frustrated he felt with himself. He peeled off his shirt and pushed his underwear off, slipping between the sheets and pulling Pran into him.
His body was so warm, so soft against Pat’s skin. Their legs tangled as they wrapped their arms around one another, closer than Pat had ever been to another person. He wanted to sear it into his brain, save it, keep it, this feeling of being completely and totally exposed.
Prans' hands slid along Pat’s body, over the muscles in his back, around to the lines of his chest and shit, it felt amazing having him claim every part of Pat. And Pran was so hard, it was impossible not to notice as Pat moved his legs between Pran’s thighs, his skin a bit warm and wet. And fuck. He wanted Pat enough that he was leaking.
“Pat,” Pran gasped, tugging at him as Pat’s mouth slid down his throat.
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. And I didn’t give Wai my guitar because it didn’t matter.”
Pat let himself be distracted from his primary focus, looking up at Pran and pouting. “You want to talk about him? Now?”
“No, you asshole, I don’t,” Pran said, but his smile was fond. Pat wanted to kiss that dimple immediately. “But I need you to hear this. I gave it to him because it gave me hope.” He was looking down at Pat’s chest, distractedly letting his finger slide over Pat’s skin. “A little bit of hope in the face of something that seems impossible is too much to bear.”
And Pat couldn’t help but kiss him hard, because Pran saying this was more than he had ever expected to get. But it was all he had ever wanted. And damn, he never wanted Pran to feel that alone ever again.
When they finally pulled back, Pran looked up at Pat with dark, deep eyes. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t say things to me, Pat.”
“I know,” Pat said. “You’ll never get me to shut up ever again.”
Pran smiled, the smirk that Pat found so incredibly sexy. He wanted to leap forward and suck on his lip. “I think I’ll still be able to manage it,” he said, pressing his mouth to Pat’s and taking him over with his tongue. And fuck, he was right.
“Do you want me to finger you more?” Pat asked, sliding his hand around Pran’s waist, cupping his firm ass, teasing his finger between Pran’s cheeks.
“Yes,” Pran said, hot and breathy.
Pat slid his fingers to Pran’s entrance, pressing gently. Pran let out a soft whine, moving his hips back against Pat’s hand, rubbing his cock against Pat’s thigh. And fuck, Pat was so fucking turned on he couldn’t stand it.
“You’re hard,” Pran gasped, sliding his hand between Pat’s legs. “Do you want to go again?”
“Are you sure?” Pat asked. “What if…”
“Let’s just try,” Pran said. “You can always suck me off with that sexy mouth if we still need more practice.”
“What the hell, Pran,” Pat said, grabbing Pran’s hips and flipping him onto his back. “You’re trying to make me insane.”
“It’s clearly working,” Pran said, pulling Pat into his body, their erections grinding against each other.
Pat looked down at Pran’s lower body and he didn’t want to change how they were, but they needed to shift a bit to make this work. He grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and slid it under Pran’s lower back, tilting him up a bit. Pran’s legs fell open, splayed wide for Pat.
He reached for the items on the end table, getting himself ready again. Pran shivered at the lube touching his skin again and it was so goddamned sexy Pat took deep breaths to make sure his body calmed the fuck down.
Pat moved closer, holding himself as he pressed into Pran, slowly, carefully again. But the slide was easier this time. Pran was relaxed and open from earlier. Pat pulled out and thrust back in, breathing through the unbelievable feeling that accompanied it. Pran pulled his legs up a bit in response, reaching for Pat’s torso and pulling on him, clearly lost to the feeling.
It was mind blowing, watching Pran shift his hips to improve the sensations he was feeling, taking Pat into him, enjoying the way Pat moved. Pat grasped the bottom of Pran’s thigh, leaning over Pran, pulling him to Pat’s body more, rocking together, slower, deeper with every movement.
Pat slid his hand between them as he balanced himself on his left side. He rubbed against Pran’s cock as best he could from that angle and Pran let out a soft noise of pleasure. “Does this make it better?” Pat asked, applying more pressure.
Pran nodded a confirmation, his back arching a bit. They fucked like this for a while. Pat’s body lit up with each movement, but he was still able to hold himself back, keeping it all just simmering under the surface.
“Can you fuck me harder?” Pran asked and okay, maybe his control was starting to slip. He shifted his arms to give himself more leverage and pushed in harder. Pran took over stroking himself, his legs shaking as Pat thrust inside him over and over again. And it was more than Pat could take. He knew it was coming.
“Pran,” Pat said, burying his head next to Pran’s on the pillow. “Fuck.”
Pran wrapped his hands around Pat’s back and raked his fingers over him, pushing back on Pat over and over again, letting out soft moaning sounds. And Pat’s body finally found its release, pleasure rippling through him until his brain whited out and he briefly lost all his senses.
But Pran was still moving his hand, hard and fast and rocking his hips. His lips quivered as his body arched back and holy fuck, he was coming, hot and wet over his own stomach. Pat held himself up as Pran shivered below him, until he finally relaxed back into the mattress. Pat pulled himself out and let his body drop down beside Pran, boneless and completely spent.
He reached outside of the blankets, searching around on the floor until he found his t-shirt and used it to wipe both of them up and throw it back where it came from.
“We’re disgusting,” Pran said, but he had a huge dopey smile.
“Get used to it,” Pat said, kissing him lightly on the forehead. “You might not be allowed to leave this bed for a while.”
“Not even for a shower?” Pran asked, making his eyes wide and open, like big saucers. And son of a bitch, he had Pat’s number.
“I suppose the winner might be able to make that kind of suggestion,” Pat said, pulling Pran close again.
“Well then, let me know if you decide we should do that,” Pran said, combing his fingers through Pat’s hair and brushing it away from his face.
“What do you mean?” Pat asked, suddenly confused. “I told you, I always let my lover win.”
“I know,” Pran hummed into Pat’s shoulder. “But I lost before the bet had even begun.”
Pat now understood what the phrase stolen moments meant. They had literally seized this time together, wrenched it from the grasp of their parents and took off together. “You should choose, winner,” Pran had said when they decided to leave town together, a weak smile on his face as he made reference to the first time Pat suggested that maybe they say fuck it and leave everyone behind.
But this time Pat had a more realistic suggestion. Back to the zero waste village, where they had first started to open up to one another. Where he would always remember Pran on the beach, sand in his hair, wishing for a past they never could have, creating a future others wanted to take away from them.
When they returned it was easy to want to stay. It had been a good fantasy, the idea of living in their own faraway place, where they could be who they want and do what they want. Except, it still meant giving up something. And it became clearer and clearer that the sacrifice would be too difficult for Pran.
And Pat never wanted to be a source of pain for him ever again.
But Pat still put all that aside as he admired Pran in the low light by the shore. Pran’s face glowed from a flush that rose on his cheeks after a few drinks and a bit too much sun that day. He looked especially soft and radiant, glowing like the moon above them.
Pat merely wanted to be there with Pran, in that moment, the bubbles from the beer making him feel light and heady. His head was full of so much: Pran’s admission of liking Pat for things most people might not even notice about him; feeling known; Pran’s dreamy response to Pat’s description of them; Pran’s soft, deep kisses as they held each other; being pulled under by the complete and desperate need they had for each other, like the crashing waves on the shore.
Pran stood, pulling on Pat’s shirt, still kissing him, but taking Pat along with him, as he always did. They stumbled back to their room, kissing and fumbling along the path. Pat held onto Pran, both trying to steady themselves as they moved, anchoring themselves to each other as they always did, never letting go as they always did.
When they finally made it inside the tiny guest room, they were both perspiring a bit. The drink and their bodies raised their temperatures, and the evening air was still heavy, not quite cool.
“I’ve been thinking about something,” Pran said when he pulled back from Pat. “You liked when I fingered you, right?”
“I did,” Pat said, his voice deep and raspy because the idea of it made his blood rush and ache between his legs.
Pran hovered over Pat’s lips. “Would you want me inside you?” he asked, his words soft and gentle.
“Fuck yes,” Pat said, absolutely thrilled at this suggestion. He had definitely thought about it. He wanted to try after he got off on Pran’s hand, but they had just started getting good at fucking and Pat hadn’t want to derail it again. But the few drinks Pat had in his system made him feel relaxed and pliable and willing to take that risk because the potential reward was too great.
Pat wanted that closeness. He ached for it, deep down, he needed it.
“Okay,” Pran said, kissing Pat softly. “Wait here.” He left the room, going into the bathroom for a few minutes. Pat stayed there, sighing longingly. He was floating, buoyant and light.
When Pran returned he had a basin and washcloth. He sat down next to Pat and unbuttoned his shirt slowly. Then he dipped the cloth in the basin and ran the cool water over Pat’s chest. The air raised goosebumps on his skin as Pran lovingly moved the cloth over Pat’s body, around his neck, over his shoulders, down his arms. He followed the strokes with soft kisses, at the crook where Pat’s neck met his shoulder, at the line of his collarbone, the muscle on his shoulder.
“Lay down,” Pran said, pulling at Pat’s pants and his boxers, removing them and throwing them on the floor. Pat’s breathing was heavy, his pulse rapid. He let Pran move him where he wanted and simply laid back, watching Pran settle himself above him. Pat adored the determined, but gentle look on Pran’s face as he claimed every part of Pat’s body. He kneeled in between Pat’s legs, dipping the cloth in the basin again, washing more of Pat’s skin: his legs, his hips, his torso. Pat was fully hard, but Pran seemed to be purposefully avoiding contact, teasing the skin around his erection.
He moved up Pat’s body, taking Pat’s wrists and pressing them over his head. Pat let out a quiet “oof,” surprised, but pleased. Pran soaked the wash cloth again, wringing it out and running it under Pat’s arms. He was sensitive there, flinching a bit at the stimulation.
Pran smiled, tender, but mischievous. He leaned down, running his tongue along the delicate skin under Pat’s arm, sucking it softly. It was intensely intimate, Pran’s mouth on him here and it electrified Pat’s body in a way he hadn’t experienced before. Pat tried to keep his body controlled, but his hips rolled, seeking friction, wanting, waiting, needing.
Pran continued his task with a newfound determination, moving across Pat’s body, giving his other arm equal attention.
By the time Pran was finished, Pat was so completely desperate. “Pran,” Pat said, letting out a soft whine, grasping at him. He was too far away. Pat couldn’t stand it.
“Roll over,” Pran said. Pat moved as soon as his brain comprehended the instructions, flipping over, his hard cock pressing into the mattress. Pran moved Pat’s legs, spreading him wider as he resettled between them and fuck, the anticipation was killing him.
Pran pressed the washcloth over Pat’s back, down his neck, trailing down to his hips. He gently moved it over each calf and then finally said, “Try to relax.” The sudden chill of the water between his ass cheeks was a bit shocking and his body tensed before Pat purposefully made himself let go of the tension. The cold of the washcloth was followed by a sensation, warm and sensual, on his entrance. And shit, Pran’s tongue was licking him, massaging his rim, pressing inside him. Pat muffled an unrestrained moan into his pillow as he tried to focus and tell his body to let go. With every flick of Pran’s tongue, little waves of pleasure burst through his body at a level of intensity he could barely stand.
“Mmmmm, baby,” Pat groaned, turning his head, barely hanging on. “You’re gonna make me come.” And as quickly as it had begun, the intense feeling stopped. Pat was gasping for air, trying to steady the beating of his heart.
Pran laid out on him, his warm breath behind Pat’s ear, his hands sliding up Pat’s arms and grabbing onto his wrists. “I like that,” Pran whispered.
Pat tried to raise his head so he could see Pran, but the angle wouldn’t allow it. But this time he said it with more force. “Make me come, baby.”
Pran moved his hips at this, pressing his erection into Pat’s back, sliding down Pat’s body.
“You want me to fuck you?” Pran asked from behind him.
“Yes,” Pat said, urgently.
It was a minute or two more, which for Pat felt more like an eternity, before he felt the cold of the lube spread over his rim. Pran pulled on Pat’s hips, raising them up and then there was a light press. Pran was moving his fingers inside Pat, slow but deliberate, not hesitant, but determined. After Pat breathed through the slight discomfort, he said, “More.” And Pran pressed in a second finger.
Pat dropped his forehead to the bed, and fuck, this was so much. “I need you,” he said, muffled into the sheets. “Please.”
And then he felt the dull ache, the harder press, the absolute intensity of feeling completely full and stretched out by Pran as he pushed inside Pat. Holy fuck.
Pat’s legs were somewhat wobbly, his body completely taken over and it was getting more and more difficult to hold himself up through the overwhelming sensation of each thrust.
“Hey,” Pran said, slowing. His hand slid over Pat’s back. “You’re shaking.”
Pat dropped down on his forearms and he let out a breath. “You feel so far,” he said.
Pran hooked his arms around Pat’s waist, hovering over Pat’s back. “Then come here,” Pran said, pulling at Pat and rocking them so that they rolled over onto their side on the bed.
Pran curled himself over Pat, his face in the crook of Pat’s neck and god, this was good. Pat reached behind him, grasping onto Pran’s leg as Pran shifted his pelvis forward, increasing the rhythm as he moved inside Pat.
He slid his hand down Pat’s torso, taking Pat’s cock in hand and stroking him. And it was too much. Pran enveloping Pat, taking him over, Pat rocking back and forth between pressing his cock into Pran’s hand and thrusting down on Pran’s cock.
“I’m close, Pat,” Pran said, quiet and breathy in Pat’s ear.
“Good,” Pat said, moving harder, wanting to feel Pran let go inside of him, wanting to know what that was like, to get to have that.
“You feel so amazing,” Pran said, and he let out a moan in Pat’s ear and Pat pressed harder still. And with the next thrust, Pran froze, his fingers twitching over Pat’s skin, his body shaking against Pat’s back, his cock throbbing inside of Pat.
Pat tried to turn a bit, but Pran was already back against him, melding against his skin and shifting Pat’s body into his lap. Pat could feel him still inside as Pran worked his cock. This they were good at. Pran knew exactly how Pat liked it, how to grasp him tighter as he stroked to make Pat crazy.
“I love you, Pat,” Pran said, another whisper. “You know that, right?” All of Pat’s emotions welled up inside him, ready to shatter him. He was so tense, so overstimulated, so raw. He could feel everything tighten, wanting to break free. “Let me feel you come,” Pran said as a gentle plea.
And it all burst forth, all the tension in Pat’s body, all the feelings deep in his heart. Everything let go for Pran. He was hollowed out, nothing held back anymore. And Pran held him through the waves, kissing his face and stroking his hair, as he came into Pran’s hand.
Pat laid there for a minute, breathing hard, a deep ache in his chest, his eyes wet and warm. Pat’s entire body was alight and humming, and still somehow his every muscle was sore.
And fuck, that just happened.
Pran took the washcloth and wiped Pat up and Pat immediately flipped himself over, peppering kisses all along Pran’s face, his neck, his mouth.
Pran loved Pat. He loved Pat, he loved Pat, he loved Pat.
Shit, Pat actually needed to open his mouth for once. “I love you too,” he spat out.
Pran kissed the wetness on his cheek softly and simply said, “I know.”
And everything became quiet as they lazily kissed each other, falling asleep in one another’s arms and holding each another through the still of the night.
“Are you sure this is what we have to do?” Pran asked, stroking Pat’s face.
“They’re all too stubborn. I’m not going to let them stop us.”
Pran nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. He seemed surprised when Pat said they should go back to hiding their relationship. And that made sense. He knew Pat was the one who wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but that is also why Pat had to be the one to suggest it. Pran would never ask that of him now.
“It won’t be easy,” Pran said.
“No,” Pat agreed. “But I can do anything if I have my Pran.”
Pran smiled at this, a soft bittersweet smile. And Pat kissed his dimple, then his lips. “We don’t have to run away to start making our own lives,” Pat said. “If they can’t accept us, then that’s what we’ll have to do, start making our life for ourselves.”
Pran nodded, and pulled Pat close, the two of them holding onto their final night of freedom together, a promise for them. That their dream was not forgotten, only deferred. They would find a way to live their true selves, one way or another, step by step.
As long as they had each other, there wasn’t anything they could face. It wouldn’t be easy, but nothing worth it was. If no one would give them a path to a future together, they would make their own. Together.