Work Text:
Never judge a book by its cover.
That phrase, Patrick ironically thought, was so very true, especially in the example of Andy Hurley. The man was sweet, shy and brilliant. But something seemed, familiar, to Patrick, the ink, the smile, the lips, the eyes.
He doesn’t get it at first, being shy and somewhat bashful, at first. But then, late one night, he’s googling for a certain type of inspiration. The thumbnail is of a cock head in someone’s mouth, large amounts of their face cropped out. Intrigued, he clicks on the video and waits for it to load. His breath increases, heart faster. The camera is handheld, slightly shaky and Patrick notes this is a bathroom fuck, no bedroom in sight. There’s a thick head of hair, reddish brown and eerily familiar, sliding down the cameraman’s cock. And their doing a good job if the sounds are anything to go by, praises and moans, soft words of appreciation.
The video takes a turn, free hand tangling in the suckers hair, and pulling, rough. The person on their knees moans, and looks up, big grey eyes staring into the camera, and Patrick wants to feel sick, wants to leave but he looks so slutty. His mouth is red and pretty, cock sliding past his lips like it belongs there and his eyes are the best part. They’re coy, like they’re asking for cock as if they were asking for sweets, innocent. It makes Patrick want to fuck his throat till he had tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.
The cameraman’s voice says some things that match this perfectly.
“Fucking cockslut,” Patrick can hear the whine, “made to have a cock buried in your throat, your ass. Good babyslut.” Andy, Andy, Andy, is such a perfect whore, moaning prettily around the cock, unashamedly, and staring at the camera, eerily like he’s staring at Patrick, (Patrick does not want that, does not want Andy to know he’s seen this) and he swallows the dick, mouth meeting the base of his cock. Huh. Guess he doesn’t really have a gag reflex. That’s, not at all helpful, not for Patrick’s predicament. His hand is buried in his pants, jerking his cock of furiously, and he’s almost there and then—
“Gonna come on your fuckin’ face, babyslut,” and come is sprayed all over Andy’s features, pretty and sinful tongue flicking out to taste what he can. Patrick comes in pants. He breathes heavily, worn out, blush heavy and burning at his face. And then, he sees a link, another thumbnail to another video, in the recommended section. In fact, Patrick was so familiar with the thumbnail and video, he could identify it by name only. And the star? One Andrew John Hurley. Patrick feels his heart pick up again, feels his cock twitch in his pants. He licks his lips. He clicks on the video.
He comes again that night. He dreads seeing Andy tomorrow.
That doesn't stop him bookmarking the video.