Archive of Our Own

For some reason, it has ended up as Paul’s responsibility to inform Patrick of the meeting that will take place a couple of hours from now.

He had argued that Patrick is not his responsibility, that Jean is his secretary and she should be the one to tell him not to be late for this because it’s a compulsory meeting for everyone to brush up on the ‘proper workplace behavior’. 

Paul does not particularly care for Bateman, and he definitely doesn’t want to speak to him voluntarily. Still, Jean had asked him to because apparently she’s too busy to do it herself, and if he doesn’t tell Patrick to be here on time this morning, he won’t turn up until noon and will undoubtedly blame it on ‘aerobics class’ as usual.

He takes the phone out of the cradle and dials Bateman’s home number.

“Hello?” 

“Bateman, it’s Paul Allen,”

“Allen, I didn’t expect you to be calling me,” he says.

“Yeah, well, me neither,” Paul says. “Jean told me to call you.”

“What for?”

“There’s this mandatory meeting at the office in an hour or so. She said to tell you now or you won’t be here in time.”

“And is this meeting mandatory for everyone ?”

“Yes, Bateman. It’s for everyone. You should be here now , actually, where are you?” he adds when he checks his watch.

“I’m at home, Allen. Last night’s company is, well, this morning’s company too.”

Paul rolls his eyes and sits forward, leaning his elbows on the desk and trying his best to power through.

“Yeah, I probably could’ve guessed,” he says. “Is she at least…alive?” He whispers the last word.

Paul’s been helping Patrick with his homicidal urges ever since he had nearly been bludgeoned to death with an axe. Bateman had spent the whole of that night in a state of near hysteria and Paul had tried his absolute best to calm him down, but what can you really say to help a madman who’s just tried to kill you?

“What time should I be there?”

“Shit,” Paul takes the phone away from his ear. If Bateman ignores his question about the girl’s life, it’s probably not for a good reason.  “Bateman,” He says, accusatory, putting the phone back to his ear. 

“Yes Allen?”

“Fuck, just…now. Just get ready and leave in the next twenty minutes, the meeting isn’t for an hour yet so you’ll have time.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Allen, if you want to keep your insides rat-free.”

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean…” He initially responds out of fear and tries to apologize to him to keep him calm, and remembers the promise Patrick made. “Bateman, if you don’t start accepting my help and stop this… side hobby of yours, you know what I’ll do.”

Silence from Bateman’s end.

“I will…consider it. Sorry, Allen.” He doesn’t sound apologetic but it’s close enough, Paul thinks. 

The line goes dead.

___________________

Bateman arrives within the next half hour, and Paul sees him walk into his office, his walkman on and probably playing something by Huey Lewis & The News , and the memory of the last time he heard the song ‘Hip To Be Square’ fills him with dread and makes him a little uneasy. 

Paul gets up and knocks on Patrick’s door, waiting for him to remove his headphones before saying he wants to talk to him in his office. Patrick nods and Paul leaves. Sometimes he hates the guy, sometimes he thinks he’s hot enough that he doesn’t care about the murders, he just wants to fuck him. It doesn’t matter though, because Patrick has an extreme aversion to saying or talking about anything slightly gay, let alone fucking a man , so he doesn’t have to get his hopes up, or allow himself to get stuck in a thought cycle of could he ? Because no, he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. It’s a simple answer.

Patrick is in Paul’s office five minutes later.

“Bateman, could you close the door?” Paul says, rephrasing his sentence at the last moment when he remembers how Patrick hates being ordered around. Once the door is closed, Paul continues.

“If what I think is true, then the girl did not leave your apartment by walking out, did she?”

“Are you insinuating that I killed her?”

“Yes.” He says, obviously. “Of course I am.”

“Jesus, Allen, why do you care?” Avoiding the question. Not a good sign.

Paul considers this for a minute.

“Because I care about the innocent lives you’re destroying every day,” He says. “Because these people don’t deserve to feel pain or die to fulfill your need to engage in homicidal activity. And I know you don’t see how this is the case, I know you’re too far gone to see these people for people , but that’s what I’m trying to help you with.”

“Allen, I don’t think there’s any point in trying, this cannot be corrected.”

“I don’t believe that’s true,” Paul says. “I believe you can be a good person. I think, somewhere deep down, you actually have the ability to care for people.”

Patrick stands in silence as he thinks. “How do I…?”

“How do you what?”

“ Care for people. How?”

“Well, maybe start with not killing or hurting them during sex?”

Patrick remains silent, but also doesn’t move away from Paul’s desk. He pulls the seat out and sits down on the other side of the desk, which is pretty much the last thing Paul wants.

“Allen,” Patrick starts. “We’re friends, yes?”

Paul doesn’t really know how to respond to that. He turns away from the computer screen and looks at the insanity-driven murderer.

“I have no idea, Bateman. I don’t know if you can feel the emotions towards people to call them friends, and I don’t know whether I’d consider you a friend or just a colleague I’m trying to help.”

“So what’s the difference? We’re talking, we’re having a conversation that isn’t work-related, does that not make us friends?”

“A bit more goes into it than that.”

“Okay, like what?” 

Paul has to think.

“Well, friends enjoy spending time with each other. They would spend time together outside of work, might go to each other’s apartments and spend time there, I’m not really sure.”

“Yes, and we’ve done all that.”

“Have we?”

“That time you thought I was Marcus Halberstram, we went out to that restaurant, you came back to my place, that was kind of friendly, no?”

“Bateman, you put on a raincoat, took out an axe, and swung it at my head. If I had been any drunker, I wouldn’t have noticed what you were doing and I would have died.”

“Yes, but before that point.”

“I thought you were someone else entirely! That just proves that me and Halberstram have a decent relationship, not you and me.”

“Okay, so how can you and I become friends? How do I fix that?”

“Maybe stop threatening to torture and kill me? That would be nice.”

“I’ll consider it,” Patrick says again, and it’s a start. When Patrick says he’ll consider something, it means he doesn’t want to say no, but also means he probably won’t stop. It’s not much, but at least it’s not a definite no .

“And I don’t know, call me sometime? Just ask if you want to do something?”

“Like what?”

“Anything,” Paul says. “Other than killing me, I have a strict rule that says if we hang out, you can’t hurt me.”

“Fine,” Patrick says, and it’s not a consideration, so it means he’ll actually do as Paul asks.

“You have my card, yeah?” Paul asks.

“No, and I don’t want to see it, either.” Patrick says. Paul recalls the conversation he and Bateman had had that night - the night he tried to kill him - and how Patrick had rambled on for half an hour, in a panic-induced fit on the verge of tears, about Allen’s business card and all Paul could do was sit there and nod, not particularly understanding of why someone would kill over a business card. But again, it’s Bateman. He’s not the most stable of people.

“Whatever, here,” he writes his home number on the back of a bit of paper he doesn’t need and passes it to Patrick. He takes it, studies it, and puts it into his pocket. “Call me if you want to do something.”

“Alright,” he says. “I’ll con-”

“Consider it, yes, I know,” Paul finishes for him. Patrick gets out of the seat and opens the door, and before he closes it and heads back down the corridor, Paul thinks he catches a glimpse of Bateman smiling at him. Whether it’s a friendly smile or an ‘I want to murder you’ smile, Paul can’t tell, and that concerns him.

________________________

In the conference room, Paul chooses a seat at the far back of the room. The large circular table usually inside this room has been removed, turned into rows of chairs and smaller tables in front of each row. People have started to gather in here to talk before the meeting starts, and the speaker is up front with his notes. There are two seats at the very back, so he figures he won’t have to sit next to anyone. Halberstram will be somewhere near the front with a couple other guys, Bryce and Patrick will be in the middle somewhere next to each other, so Paul can sit by himself. Hopefully.

He sits down and adjusts the desk in front of him so it’s closer. Each row of chairs has a long collection of desks in front, for people to have their drinks or papers on in case they’re taking notes, or just doing regular work during it because yes, it’s compulsory, but they never said people couldn’t ignore whatever’s being talked about. Paul just has his bottle of Evian on the desk. He’s using the meeting as an excuse to do no work today.

Another great thing about this position is it isn’t exactly a ‘row’, more just a couple chairs littered near the back as spares. It’s quiet and away from the main group, so Paul can spend the meeting half listening and half inside his own head, with knowledge of Bateman and that girl who’s probably dead back at his apartment and thinking about god knows how many others are dead because of him.

He doesn’t believe Patrick is evil. What he thinks is there’s a deeply, deeply fucked up mind inside of him and he has a lot of problems that need fixing, but it’s not that simple. Patrick might be right in saying it can’t be corrected, but what’s the harm in trying? He’s already said if it continues, he’ll go to the police, and Bateman knows this. 

“Allen,” a voice sounds from behind him and Paul turns around to see Patrick pulling the seat to his right out and sitting down in it.

“I didn’t think you’d wanna sit next to me,” Paul says. “I think we’ve already established that we aren’t friends. Not yet, anyway.”

“Yes, but it's an improvement, right?”

“How so?”

“Well, a month ago, I wanted to kill you. And now I’m voluntarily sitting next to you and talking to you, and I haven’t said anything about torturing you for the last,” he checks his watch. “Ten minutes.”

“I don’t know what to say to that. Well done?”

“I’m going to take your advice,” Patrick starts, his voice quieter than before. “And at some point, I’m going to have sex without killing the person by the end.”

“That actually is an improvement. I’m happy for you.”

“It’ll be difficult,” Patrick continues, as if Paul hadn’t spoken. “Because everyone I’ve had sex with, I never truly cared for them. So killing them is simple and doesn’t bother me.”

“Well what about someone you do care about? Someone you know, so you would feel too guilty to end their life?”

“It’s also more satisfying for me if I know the person I’ve killed has people that will mourn for them. That’s the issue. I enjoy it more when I know that people will be in pain from the knowledge of their loved one being dead. Pretty fucked up, right?” He laughs as he says the last part, and Paul just smiles and nods. What the fuck is he supposed to say?

“Yeah, it is. A bit.” God, he’s a complete psychopath. He takes it back. Maybe he is evil. Paul can’t believe Patrick has lived a life like this for what, seven years? On and off? And not a single person noticed. He hadn’t even noticed, not until the axe was above his skull and about to be driven through it, right into his brain. The shock of seeing it had sobered him up fairly quickly and if he hadn’t moved out the way and taken a hold of the handle, wrenching it from Bateman’s grip, he would be dead . And Bateman could be in prison, who knows what might have happened?

“No, I need someone that I care about, that I know not many people will notice if they get killed, and someone that I know wouldn’t be satisfying to kill. At least, not anymore.”

Paul opens his bottle of water and takes a sip.

“Someone…like you, Allen?”

Paul chokes on his drink. He recovers and looks over at Patrick.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s perfect, I mean, no one would notice if you died,”

“Thanks Pat, that’s nice.”

“And I’ve moved on from the whole Dorsia reservations and business card thing, that was ages ago now.”

“One month,” he says, worriedly.

“So there’s no real reason I would want to kill you, is there? Which means I have no motive and no reason because I’m not getting anything out of it.”

“Yes, but Patrick, the key thing to remember here, is that I’m a man.”

“I know.”

“So you…” he drops his voice to a whisper. “You couldn’t have sex with me because you’re not attracted to men .”

“Yes, but I was thinking,” Patrick turns to face Paul. “I don’t think I can keep being so dominant during sex. I think that’s also problem. My brain gets carried away with the power and the control and ironically, I lose control and they, well, you know how they end up.”

“Unfortunately,”

“So I was thinking,” he continues. “If I allow someone else to have control, I might not get the urge to…you know.”

“It’s not a bad thought,” Paul starts, because what the fuck is he supposed to say? “But what’s saying that I’m even willing to have sex with you? Maybe I’m not gay.”

“I never said you were,” Patrick starts. “And it’s not gay , it’s just one friend helping out another.”

“Yeah, but like I said before-”

“Do you want to help me or not?” Patrick says finally.

Paul thinks, and he does. He really does want to help. And he definitely wants to have sex with Bateman, but is it worth the risk of him possibly ending his life? Maybe.

“I do,” he says eventually. “And I will. Just call me if you want me to come over to yours or if you want to come over to mine and we’ll find-”

‘What about now?”

If Paul had risked taking another drink, he would have choked again. 

“I’m sorry?”

“Today, Allen. Now.”

“Yeah, I heard that bit, but if you want me in control, surely I should decide when it happens?”

This shuts Patrick up.

“I’ll tell you what,” Paul says. “Today, now, that’s fine. But that’s all you’ll know. I choose specifically when it happens, is that fine?”

Patrick doesn’t say anything. He’s either ignoring Paul or thinking. Finally he says, “Yes, Allen, that’s fine.”

________________________

It starts normally. They’re sitting listening to the important reminders on the standards in the workplace, which includes anything from littering to wearing inappropriate clothing. Not that Patrick needed that reminder, he’d probably kill someone or himself if he wasn’t wearing the best clothes.

About ten minutes into the meeting, Paul feels Patrick’s leg against his own as he moves a little closer. It’s subtle, there’s not much to it. He’s simply taking a bit more room for himself, and so Patrick allows him to have it. Bateman gives in and just accepts that this is how they’ll be sitting for now, and doesn’t think more of it. He listens to the speaker drone on about tidying the conference room after you use it, so it’s not in a state for the next lot of people.

Another ten minutes or so passes. Or what feels like it, with Patrick so close to him. It might have been a couple minutes, or seconds.

Paul has his hand resting on his own leg. It’s far too close to Patrick for him to be able to ignore it and focus, so his attention is completely on Paul, despite his eyes still tracking the speaker. Paul notices this and feels his heart racing.

Paul’s hand inches closer to Patrick’s leg, stopping when he’s touching the man. Patrick swallows as Paul strokes the back of his hand against his thigh in an up-down rhythm, the warmth and physical contact of his hand on Bateman sending a thrill through his body.

What kind of thrill it is, that’s a different question.

Patrick’s next inhale is a little different as Paul slides his hand down to the inside of his thigh. Some part of him has no idea what is going on, another part knows exactly what’s going on, and another is torn between stopping or continuing. His mind is a mess of contradictions and he doesn’t know how to convey to Patrick that he has no idea what he wants to do.

Patrick looks as if he wants to lean over and order him to do something, to tell him what to do and take control back, but he manages to keep it to himself, and Paul allows himself to feel proud. He’s changing, even if it’s only slightly, but it’s good. Maybe this will work.

Paul finally manages to think clearly about what he’s doing here. He brings his hand down to Patrick’s crotch and feels his dick through the material of his trousers, this time not caring at all what designer brand they are, just caring about what’s underneath. He doesn’t look over at Patrick because he fears that may be too obvious a giveaway as to what they’re doing because, after all, they’re surrounded by a lot of people.

Paul keeps stroking Patrick’s dick and wonders if he’s on the verge of a homicidal breakdown or whether he’s trying to pretend nothing’s happening under the table but Paul hopes it’s the latter. He feels Patrick getting harder and it in turn makes himself more aroused and he doesn’t know why he’s so obsessed with this man when one of the only interactions they’ve ever had is one dinner and then nearly an axe to the head. He stops questioning himself and moves his hand up to the button of Patrick’s trousers and undoes it. He slides the zip down and reaches under his underwear and feels just how hard he really is, and strokes him the best he can whilst still inside all the layers of clothing. As he’s jerking Bateman off, he wonders whether he’ll ever actually see his dick, and then whether he’ll get to feel Patrick deep inside his ass and a wave of arousal shoots through his body and he feels his own erection getting more and more needy.

One of these questions is answered - Patrick carefully and slowly pulls his trousers and underwear down to just above his knees and Paul doesn’t look over, not yet, but he can definitely work this better with the extra room. The only people in the room with them are all seated in front of them, and they have a table separating each row of people, so thankfully if anyone would look over their shoulder, all they would see is Bateman and Allen looking straight ahead at the speaker, seemingly interested in whatever it is he has to say.

They aren’t focused at all. Paul risks looking down briefly and sees that Patrick’s dick is hard and upright against shirt. Patrick himself is still staring straight ahead, seemingly unaffected by what’s happening, but Paul can tell his real emotions just from the sigh of his erection. 

Paul uses his free hand to squeeze himself through his trousers because fuck, he’s so hard himself and he needs something. He can’t let Bateman have all the pleasure. 

He continues to stroke Patrick and has to stop touching himself because it’s not providing as much relief as he had hoped. There’s a slight change in Patrick’s posture and expression and Paul notices it, but no one else would. He can tell that he must be pretty close by now, and he increases his speed and grip, using his precum to lube his dick so he slides his hand up and down easier. He wonders whether men giving other men handjobs must feel better than from a woman, because men know what to do and how it feels. Men will have had practice doing this by themselves, so therefore would be naturally better coming from another man. Sure, a well experienced woman could perform it quite well, too, but he doubts if any woman with tons of experience would know dicks as well as a man does. 

Patrick swallows and Paul hears him, and he gives a final burst of speed before he feels and sees Patrick tensing in his seat and then he’s coming over Paul’s hand. Paul keeps jerking him as he comes and is surprised and relieved to find that he’s managed to keep quiet during his orgasm. It sends another hundred volts of arousal through his body and he desperately wants Bateman to come inside him, or whichever way around Patrick wants it.

Paul lets go of Patrick and finds a tissue in his pocket that he uses to wipe his hand clean. He doesn’t look over at Bateman until near the end of the meeting, by which time he’s pulled his trousers back up and seems to have recovered from his orgasm. 

They sit without acknowledging each other for the rest of the meeting, not paying any attention to the speaker. Paul had lost focus half an hour ago. It ends roughly ten minutes later anyway, and everyone stands to leave the conference room. Paul is eager to get away, to spend a moment ‘composing himself’ in the bathroom and properly processing what the fuck has just happened, and whether Patrick is now going to kill him or not.

He doesn’t get the chance. Instead, Bateman leads him by the sleeve into the elevator and presses the button for the garage.

“Bateman, what-” he doesn’t get to finish. The doors have closed, and Patrick brings their bodies together and presses his mouth to Paul’s, trapping him in a heated kiss against the wall. Paul doesn’t fight it, allowing Patrick to take control and do what he wants for the moment.

Paul brings his hands up to Patrick’s hair and pulls, feeling a hell of a lot more desperate now than he had been five seconds ago. Patrick grinds against Paul, and it’s only now that Paul realizes just how hard Patrick is all over again.

“Fuck, Bateman,” Paul breathes when they pull apart, Patrick leaning down to Paul’s neck to kiss and bite him. Paul loves every second of it, and his fears about the man hurting him or ending him are gone. He finds that, actually, Paul trusts him. For some unknown, probably stupid reason.

“Yes,” Patrick says, sending more images into Paul’s brain by pressing his dick harder against Paul’s already very prominent erection. Paul moans freely now, rolling his hips to gain more friction.

“You want me to fuck you?” Paul asks. “Here?”

“Yes,” Patrick says again, one arm around Paul’s shoulder, the other reaching down to rub the bulge in Paul’s jeans. “Is that…alright?”

“Yeah,” Paul says, his voice uneven. Is Patrick learning? Is he changing? Has he ever asked if sex was okay for his partner? He groans when Patrick presses his hand against him, nearly whining too at the loss when he moves away. The doors have opened and Paul follows Patrick mindlessly into the garage, not at all aware of anything other than the man in front of him, who he’s about to fuck. Holy shit. He shouldn’t be this eager, or this aroused.

Patrick takes him to the far back of the garage, in one corner, where his car is parked. Paul can’t help but think whether this had been a setup for Bateman to have sex with him or if it’s just a really big coincidence.

Before Paul can ask, Patrick backs him against the wall in front of the car, kissing him passionately and grinding down against him.

Patrick reaches a hand down and grabs Paul’s erection through his trousers. Paul’s head falls back against the wall and he groans, thrusting his hips into Patrick’s touch. He opens Paul’s trousers and slides them down, giving his erection a few quick strokes before kneeling.

“Bateman…” Paul breathes. Has Patrick done this before? Has he actually sucked dick at some point in his life other than before now?

“Relax, Allen.” Patrick says before sliding his tongue up Paul’s dick. He slides Paul into his mouth and sucks hard. Paul thinks his question might be about to be answered.

Paul runs his fingers through Patrick’s hair and guides his head in the motion and speed he wants. He closes his eyes from the pleasure but they soon snap back open, worriedly looking around the garage for any sign of commotion.

There is, of course, nobody around. Even if they were to have seperate company down here, they most likely would go unnoticed, since Patrick has specifically chosen this back corner for this reason.

He relaxes against the wall - as much as he can, with the rough stone pressing against his bare skin and his dick inside the mouth of an utterly insane man - and allows Patrick to take more control by also relaxing the grip his hand had on his head.

“Bateman, did you want me in control or not?” Paul asks, suddenly remembering why they’re here in the first place.

“Later,” he says, taking his mouth away for a moment. “I can’t hurt you here. Don’t worry,”

Patrick takes Paul back in his mouth again, while he brings one of his hands up to Allen’s bare ass and strokes the skin there before significantly tightening his grip and Paul moans. He does desperately want to feel Patrick inside of him, but he knows that it could happen some other time. Right now, Patrick wants Paul to fuck him, and he needs to see that desire through, what with that image burning into his mind since the elevator.

Paul feels himself getting dangerously close and moves his hand to Patrick’s shoulder to gesture to stop.

“Bateman, if you want me to fuck you, you gotta stop.”

Patrick does pull off, but not without looking up at Paul and smirking. Paul’s erection is hard against his stomach, wet with precum and saliva and desperate for some kind of relief. Paul feels a little vulnerable as he stands there, half undressed in the sub-level of the office, with Patrick now standing, fully clothed, watching him intently. But one glance down at Patrick’s crotch and he sees that he’s in a very similar state to Paul.

Patrick sees Paul’s line of sight, reaches down and grips his dick through his trousers, and the way Patrick looks over at Paul as he does this makes Paul think it isn’t for his own benefit, but for Paul’s.

Paul doesn’t want to spend any longer denying himself pleasure and moves away from the wall, taking Patrick in a heated kiss while he uses the closeness to pull Bateman’s trousers down. Paul takes Patrick’s dick in his hand and strokes him frantically while biting the skin below his jawline.

Clearly the sensation affects Patrick in some way, because he moans and wraps his own hand around Paul’s to jerk himself off faster. 

Paul uses his free hand to undo the buttons on Patrick’s shirt. It’s a small struggle, but he gets the damn thing open. He lifts his head from Patrick’s shoulder and takes in the view of both Patrick’s chest and dick. Paul feels his hand along the defined muscles, wanting to touch every part of him. 

He removes his hand from Patrick’s erection and takes him by the waist to spin him around and push him roughly over the hood of the car. Paul tugs Patrick’s trousers down below his ass and places his dick against him. Patrick moans beneath him and grinds against Paul, and the extra stimulation on his dick is incredible. Paul moves his hand and presses two fingers inside, stretching him open and rubbing his dick against his ass every time he hears Bateman make a noise.

Paul finally gets to the point where he can’t stand the torture any longer and pushes his dick into Patrick’s tight ass and they both moan, the sound of Patrick whining bringing Paul more pleasure and, of course, some element of pride. He does still pause, though, not wanting to proceed if Patrick is in pain.

“You good man? Should I slow down?”

“No,” Patrick says, pushing his hips back into Paul and causing him to slide in further. Paul groans as the heat wraps around him. “Keep going.”

Paul can barely process the words Patrick's spoken. His mind has become too blurred with feelings of arousal and desperation and he has to do something, he just can’t quite figure out what.

Paul blindly takes a stronger hold of Patrick’s waist and slowly pulls back, before slamming into him at a speed that he wouldn’t normally use with a woman, a speed he thinks Bateman can handle.

Paul thrusts in again, hitting a spot inside Patrick that causes him to lean on the car with his head buried in his arms. Paul isn’t having this.

On the next thrust in, Paul grabs Patrick by his hair and pulls his head up.

“Wanna hear you,” he groans into Patrick’s ear, before reaching down with his other hand to stroke Bateman’s erection. Paul strokes in time with his thrusts, and Patrick lets out the most vulgar moan Paul’s heard in all his life. Whether it had been intentional or not, Paul doesn’t care. It spurs him on.

He lets go of Patrick’s hair but he doesn’t drop back to his arms. Paul picks up speed and pounds into him, desperately trying to bring Patrick to his climax. He, right now, wants nothing more than to see the psychopathic murderer who had tried and failed to kill him come beneath him.

Paul continues stroking Patrick’s dick, knowing how close he is. He can feel how close Patrick is to finishing, physically and also through the sound of his moans. Paul knows he won’t last much longer, either, and strives to make sure Patrick finishes first.

Paul changes the angle at which he’s thrusting and jerks on Patrick’s dick faster, and Patrick lets out a choked moan. He’s holding back; of course he is.

“Patrick,” Paul groans. “Come for me. Let go. Come while I’m fucking your ass.”

“Oh- fuck,” Patrick groans and his head falls onto his arms. Paul continues to fuck him whilst also jerking him off as he comes, feeling the climax of the man beneath him play out for a good minute or so.

Paul feels Patrick’s body go limp after his orgasm finishes and he stops his hips, prepared to pull out and finish himself off some other way. Before he can fully pull out, though, Patrick turns his head.

“Keep going,” He says.

“You sure?”

“Fuck, Allen, I want to feel you come inside me.”

Paul groans at his words and complies. It only takes a few more seconds before Paul feels himself letting go, his eyes screwing shut and white hot pleasure falling over him.

Patrick clenches his ass around Paul’s dick and he feels a whole new wave of his orgasm wash over him. It’s tight and warm in a way he’s not felt for a very long time, and Patrick is so damn hot and they’re still in public. Oh God, we’re in public.

But he doesn’t feel worried or anxious about it anymore. As his orgasm continues, the thought of someone walking down and seeing them only heightens his pleasure. 

Paul feels his orgasm dying down after what feels like an eternity and he collapses on top of Patrick’s back. He realizes now just how tired he is, but he can’t stay here forever. He has to go back to work at some point.

Paul lifts his body upright and pulls out. The slight twitch of Patrick’s dick against Paul’s hand doesn’t go unnoticed. He backs up and leans against the wall. Patrick moves shortly after, and Paul watches as he adjusts his suit; smoothing out the wrinkles in his jacket, buttoning his shirt, pulling his trousers up and fixing the belt, finally tucking his shirt in and looking for all the world like he’s about to attend a meeting. He’s never understood why Bateman cares so damn much about his appearance. Of course everyone does, that’s just how this society works, but Bateman’s obsession with it is almost unhealthy. It’s not the biggest problem he has, though.

Patrick smiles.

“You look awful.” He says.

“Thanks, Pat. That’s helpful.” Paul scoffs and turns away from Patrick, pulling his trousers up. “I mean, you got through that without hurting me or killing me, so I assume it worked, right?”

“Well, there’s nothing around to actually hurt you with,” Patrick says, and it doesn’t reassure Paul. “And I was too busy being fucked into another universe to be thinking about murder. So yes, it worked.”

“That’s…great,” Paul says, unsure of what to say. “Do you think you’d be able to keep like that during sex with anyone else? Like Evelyn or Courtney?”

Bateman shrugs. “Don’t know. Maybe?”

“Well, can I suggest something?” He asks, recalling how Patrick had reacted to Paul ‘telling him what to do’ earlier.

“Go on.”

“Maybe it would be best to not have sex with anyone until you can control the urges,” Paul says. “That way you can be sure you won’t hurt anyone or kill anyone during it.”

“But I was fine just now,” Patrick says. “You’re still alive, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he starts. “But I assumed this was just a one time thing to see if letting up control would help. And it did. So now you know.”

“Yes, but now I know how to keep my mind occupied while having sex, I need someone to…”

“Yes?” He says, and he can’t help smiling a little at Patrick’s inability to just say what he wants. He’s probably still in denial about it being gay.

“Fuck you, Allen, you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, that you want a man to fuck you when you feel horny,” he says.

“Not a man , Allen, you. If you’re my friend, it’s not gay,” There it is, Paul thinks. “If it’s some random guy in the restroom at Dorsia, it’s gay. There’s a difference.”

“Whatever, Bateman,” he says, risking patting him on the shoulder as he walks back towards the main building. “You have my number.”