Chapter Text
2023
By some great cosmic miracle, it’s a hotel night and Pete is actually hard, for once. Patrick laughed at him when Pete whispered that in his ear in the greenroom after the show, which Pete didn’t necessarily appreciate. Fuck Patrick—he’ll understand when he’s older and his own dick stops working.
Patrick’s always horny after shows, and Pete is happy to take care of him, but sometimes he would like to get in on the action more than just offering Patrick a helping hand. So, the fact that both he and Patrick are horny and hard at the same time is a really big fucking deal, thank you very much.
“Do you wanna fuck me?” Patrick asks. He’s naked, puttering around the hotel room, gathering everything he’ll need for his shower after they finish.
Pete’s resisting the urge to touch himself while he watches Patrick, his broad hairy chest and dad gut on full display. Every time he bends over to pick through the pile of clothes they’ve somehow managed to accumulate already, Pete gets an eyeful of his ass and his heavy cock and balls hanging between his legs. Pete considers the question carefully. He loves fucking Patrick, he really does, and that’s probably the best use of this rare boner—especially if Pete wants a satisfying finish—but, well. Pete really kinda wants to get fucked when he’s actually hard, and not just when he’s a willing hole for Patrick to plow into with no hope of cumming himself.
“No, I want to get fucked,” Pete tells Patrick’s back. Patrick hums in surprise and turns around to face Pete where he’s reclined on the bed. His hard cock bounces against his round stomach as he moves.
“Are you sure?” he asks. He’s sweet, thinking of Pete’s pleasure like that. Pete leers at him and nods.
“Yeah, I’m sure. I want that big cock in me,” Pete says, his tone coy. Patrick grins and crosses the room. He climbs on the bed and swings a leg over Pete’s hip, hovering over him on all fours. His big belly presses deliciously into Pete when he leans in to kiss him deeply.
“I think that can be arranged,” Patrick murmurs against his lips when he draws back. Pete kisses him again, just because he can. Then, he pushes at Patrick’s shoulder until he flops over onto his back in the center of the bed, propped up by the mountain of pillows. He shoots Pete an inquisitive look when he clambers off the bed to rifle through their suitcases.
“Gotta get the lube,” Pete says, “And a condom.” He feels silly crouching naked in the corner of the room, his cock hard and swinging, but Patrick makes an appreciative noise before he groans in faux displeasure. Pete rolls his eyes even though he knows Patrick can’t see him.
“Shut up, you know I don’t like it when I have to spend ten minutes jerking off with your cum in my ass after you finish,” he says, the well-worn rhythm of this conversation bringing a smile to lips. Patrick groans again, just as put-upon as Pete’s complaining.
Pete returns to the bed with the lube and a condom, settling in next to Patrick, who pecks him chastely on the cheek. His beard scratches against Pete’s stubble. Pete removes the condom from its foil and offers it to Patrick, who shakes his head.
“I want you to do it,” he says, and Pete grins.
“You just want my hand on your dick,” Pete teases. Patrick’s own grin is blinding.
“Maybe so. I like your hands.”
“Sure,” Pete agrees easily. “Try not to blow your load before we even get the condom on, ’kay?” Patrick splutters, his face flushing in embarrassment.
“That was one time!” he cries, defensive. Pete smirks at him, then hums condescendingly.
“Whatever you say, babe. Are you ready?” he asks. Patrick rolls his eyes, but Pete doesn’t miss the embarrassed glint. In the twenty years they’ve been sleeping together, Patrick has never become any less ashamed of cumming too quickly. He also hasn’t become any less quick.
Patrick nods his assent, so Pete takes him gently in one hand. He hisses and screws his eyes shut, just as sensitive as always. Pete carefully presses the condom to his tip and slowly rolls it down. Patrick’s teeth are digging into his bottom lip, all his muscles tensed as he breathes through it, making these little aborted half-grunts in the back of his throat.
It really is cute—in the abstract, at least. Pete loves that Patrick is always so excited. And he’s always so embarrassed, which lights a fire in Pete’s gut. But sometimes, Pete really wishes Patrick could last longer. Pete was over it after, like, the third time Patrick came within a minute and rolled over to catch his breath, leaving Pete to take care of himself. Sure, they have dildos and the strap-on, but it would be nice to have Patrick’s real-life dick fuck him to completion just once. Pete knows tonight will probably be just as unsatisfying, which feels kinda like he’s wasting a boner. But, oh well. He wants Patrick’s dick in him, even if it's only for a few thrusts.
Patrick’s panting hard by the time the condom is snug against the base of his cock. His balls are drawn up tight and visibly throbbing. His dick jerks against his stomach when Pete withdraws his hand.
“Alright, babe, you calm down while I open myself up,” Pete instructs, retrieving the lube from the nightstand.
He leans back on the pillows, planting his feet flat on the bed and spreading his knees. His thigh presses against Patrick’s and Patrick makes a small noise in the back of his throat, his eyes still screwed closed. Pete wets his fingers and reaches between his legs, circling his hole a few times before pressing his index finger inside.
Pete fingers himself open quickly and silently, his bottom lip clamped firmly in his teeth. He knows if he takes too long, or if he makes too much noise, he runs the risk of setting Patrick off. Beside him, Patrick’s eyes are squeezed closed and his mouth is hanging open, his lips shiny and wet, as he walks himself back from the edge of orgasm.
Finally, Pete deems himself stretched enough and withdraws his fingers. He bumps Patrick’s shoulder with his own and Patrick blinks his eyes open. His cheeks are already pink and sweaty. He gasps as Pete leans over and strokes him once, wiping the excess lube on his hands on Patrick’s wrapped dick.
“I’m ready,” Pete tells him. Patrick’s eyes drop immediately to his groin, surely imaging his open hole. Pete smirks and says, “Go crazy.”
Patrick scrambles to situate himself between Pete’s spread knees. He touches the head of cock against the rim and Pete grunts at the gentle pressure. Patrick thrusts, sheathing himself entirely in one motion. Pete moans long and loud, Patrick’s big cock filling him so completely.
Patrick lacks finesse: he’s never developed the stamina required to fine-tune his technique. He’s essentially humping Pete like a teenager, rather than thrusting like someone with twenty years of sexual experience. His hips press tight to Pete’s ass, his sweaty belly rubbing against the underside of Pete’s cock, the coarse hair of his treasure trail pulling at the sensitive skin. He grunts with each slap of his hips against Pete. And Pete, despite Patrick’s juvenile thrusts and the slightly uncomfortable friction against his cock, moans loudly in counterpoint to Patrick’s noises. He can’t help it when they’re like this—he thinks of himself as a hole for Patrick to use, his own pleasure unimportant. It’s surprisingly erotic, even if it’s not true.
As usual, Patrick’s body tenses within a minute, an animalistic grunt tearing itself from his throat as he empties into the condom. He pulls out of Pete immediately, flopping onto his back to catch his breath. Pete whimpers at the loss, his hole clenching around nothing, a hand flying to his own dick to furiously jerk himself off. He reaches for Patrick with the other, tangling his fingers in thin coppery hair.
“Sorry,” Patrick pants, “I’ll get better.”