(Pete's POV)

"You look hella good in that."

I met Patrick's eyes as he stood behind me in the mirror. Being watched by those hungry baby blues was enough to make me squirm. I squared my shoulders against the oncoming shudder. Adjust the black blazer I was wearing. His blazer. I had to admit, I did look decent. Black, skin tight t-shirt, black blazer, black jeans. It was my happy color.

"Did you just say hella?"

He smirked. "Are you going to take the compliment or not?"

I bit my lip. Pretending to consider it. "Thank you."

He acknowledged my thanks with the nod of his head. Patrick's eyes stayed glued to mine as he approached me from behind. Wrapping his arms around my waist. His fingers toyed with the buckle of my belt. My already flat stomach sucked in on instinct.

"You'd look even better out of it."

Bold. Way more forward than he'd been since I returned from Canada. A part of me wanted to question it. But the larger part of me refused to look this gifted horse in the mouth. I slumped into him. Pushing my ass against the front of his pants.

"I'll take you up on that."

Patrick's hands were moving quick enough to match the speed at which the blood rushing from my brain. I mushed his hands away. Slipping the leather of my belt from the loops in my pants. My boyfriend's previous confidence seemed to fade as he lost control of the situation. Maybe he didn't really want this. Maybe he just wanted to tease me. If that were true, it would be cruel, but not unlike him.

"Pete, the guys will be here any minute." I glanced at the watch on my left wrist. He was right. "They're excepting a drinking pregame not gay foreplay."

The chuckle rumbled deep in my chest. "We can give them both."

"I'm sure Jon doesn't want to spend his birthday night watching us have sex."

"I don't know." I spun to face him. Sliding our growing erections against each other. Patrick sucked his lip into his mouth. "Jon never seemed like he was straddling the fence to you?"

"Pete."

"C'mon, baby." I made sure my lips moved against his ear as I spoke. Patrick was a sucker for shit like that. "I can be quick."

"I know."

"Ouch!" I pushed him a step back just to slam him back into me. He moaned at the aggression. "Best five minutes of your life."

"Two." He corrected. Sticking the appropriate number of fingers in front of my face. "But it is up there."

"I bet I could give you ten." My head dropped to the space between his shoulder and neck. His head tilted to the side to give me better access.

"Oh really?"

I hummed against his skin. "We've been apart for so long. My body misses you." He turned his head in the other direction. Instructing me to suck bruises on the other side now. I kissed the space softly. "And since I've been back, we've only had sex with other people."

He yanked out of my hold. Eyeing me dangerously. "That's low."

It was. I shrugged. "It's terrible but it is the reality."

"Which is in the past-"

"But it still happened." I cut in.

"So that's why you want to do it?" His arms crossed over his chest defensively.
Shit. Shit. "Because we fucked other people and you want to prove a point?" He looked a lot less relaxed than he did a minute ago. He was still sporting a pretty obvious boner so maybe I could sway him back into the mood.

"No, baby, no." I reached out for him. He didn't return to my arms but he also didn't step back. My voice lowered. "I miss being inside of you."

His eyes flashed. His arms dropped.

I won.

"What if I'm not in the mood to bottom?" He said for the sake of arguing.

Instead of justifying that nonsense with words, I lifted an eyebrow. Patrick was always in the mood. A power bottom if I'd ever met one. His straight face lasted a second before he broke into a blinding smile.

"You open up easier." I made grabbing motions with my hands. This time he walked to me. Like a moth to a flame.

"So you think I'm easy?" As he spoke, his warm hand slipped into the front of my jeans. Cupping me. The heel of his hand pushed into me. I laughed, a weak, high pitched sound.

"So easy."

"Get the lube from the nightstand."

Didn't have to tell me twice.

Patrick began shimmying out of his jeans. I paused to admire the view of his skin being exposed before turning to retrieve the lube. The small, blue bottle was sitting on top of everything else in the drawer. I balanced the weight of it in my hands. It was much lighter than it should have. I shook it as I stepped back in place towards Patrick. Damn near empty. Why the hell was his lube half empty? There was no way he used almost a full bottle on the one incident with Briton. Maybe it's an old one. Left from the days before I skipped the country. It damn well better be. Or Patrick had explaining to do.

Then Patrick turned to face the mirror. Resting his elbows on the hard wood surface. And suddenly the lack of lube didn't bother me. All I could concern myself with was the slight arch of my boyfriend's back. The way he was jittering with impatience. The intensity of his smolder gaze through his reflection.

And yeah, fuck that bottle and everything missing from it. Because right now, it didn't matter. It was in my hand and I was about to make use of it. Better than anyone else could.

I wasted no time slicking up my fingers. Slipping one, then two into Patrick's entrance. Being met with the minimal amount of resistance. He clenched against me as I sunk in to the knuckle. He hissed at the primary burn of both fingers entering at once. Patrick's face twisted into something akin to discomfort. And I stalled any movement of my hand. Giving him time to adjust. I could feel him taking deep breaths. Relaxing himself to the intrusion. Seconds, minutes, hell hours could have passed before he finally moved against me. Inviting me to continue. Like I said, he opened up easier.

My fingers weren't necessarily considered long. But there was never a problem reaching the sweet spots in my boyfriend. My fingers scissored without difficulty. Which meant he was ready for another. So I should add another. Just to make sure he was really ready. But, lord forgive me, I didn't have the tolerance for another. Based on the way he was trembling against me, Patrick didn't either.

I retracted my fingers. Admittedly not as gently as I could. Patrick's ass moved towards me to chase the feeling. I wrapped my left hand around his hip. Pushing him into the dresser to keep him still as I emptied the rest of the lube from his scarce bottle.

There was no teasing. I had enough of the foreplay. Once I was aligned with his entrance, I slipped in completely. Again, his body's natural reaction was to tense. I used my thumb to rub comforting circles into his skin.

"Patrick, breathe." He huffed in response. "Deep breaths" I chided.

He nodded. Exaggerating his breathing so I knew he was following orders. My restraint started to wear thin. I met his eyes in the mirror. Trying my hardest not to glance at myself because that seemed like a douchey thing to do.

"Move." He all but groaned.

What was that I thought earlier?

Oh yeah.

He didn't have to tell me twice.

I began a merciless rhythm against him. It was clear that I wasn't going to last long. The explicits Patrick was groaning at me promised his quick release as well.

"P-Peeete." My name vibrated through him to me.

"Yeah, babe?" Embarrassingly spoken uneven. I didn't expect to sound like anything else.

"D-Don't." He moved his hand from where I could see it. Probably touching himself. I knew he must be begging for friction. "Don't come on these fucking jeans."

"Wha-"

"These are the only pair of black jeans I have clean." Said through clenched teeth.

"Babe," My tempo picked up. Patrick whimpered. "I don't plan on pulling out."

"Fuck."

The foreign beat of knocking sounded in my head. It took a moment to register that someone was knocking on the door. Cool. Awesome. Okay. They could wait.

"Patrick, baby." I tried to whisper. "We need to speed things up."

"Shit!" Patrick gasped. Easy. "I'm gonna- Pete I swear to-"

"I know."

I thrusted into him. My previous rhythm dismissed. One, two, three more times. I was on edge. What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't let my boyfriend finish first? My hand slid around his front. Moving his to fist around him. I pumped in time with my hips. Pleasure sparked in my gut like an explosion. My hand stroked Patrick quicker. My other hand yanked at his short-ish strands of hair. It didn't take long for him to go over the edge with a sharp, surprised cry. I followed directly after. Groaning -what I hoped was quietly- into his ear.

Patrick slumped onto the dresser. I slumped onto Patrick. Doing my best to regain my strength before my weight became too much on him.

"Holy fuck." He spoke first. "You're amazing."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. He was right after all. My face buried into the back of his shirt. "You smell amazing."

He sniffed. "I smell like you."

"I know."

The knocks returned louder than before. A reminder that we couldn't just stand there and compliment each other all night. We made plans. I tucked myself into my briefs and slid my pants up. Redoing my belt while I made for the door. Patrick and I shared a look through that damn mirror again before I exited the room. Closing the door tightly behind myself to give him more time to recover.

I swung the door open. Joe's fist was raised in the air, mid-knock. He, Jon, Dallon, Spencer, Briton, Andy, Ryan and Tyler looked at me expectantly. What the fuck, did they carpool or something? I stepped to the side to let them in. Ryan passed by me with a knowing look. One that made me self-conscious. Did I look as rumpled as I felt?

"What took you so long, asshole?" Jon slapped me on the back.

"We were out there forever." Andy concurred.

"Sorry." I ran my hand through my already tousled hair. "I was doing stuff."

The bedroom door opened with a click. The guys looked up to see Patrick walking into the living room area. He smiled at our friends. Lifting a hand in greeting.

"Look, guys." Dallon pointed to him as he approached. "It's stuff."

Everyone erupted in laughter. Patrick, not completely in on the joke, blushed at the floor. I chucked in good nature. Giving Dallon a playful glare. My eyes travelled the room. Landing on a solemn Tyler. I guess the joke didn't sit well with him. None of this really sat well with him. It almost made me feel guilty. Almost because Patrick was my boyfriend and I had every right to screw him minutes before a party. I had nothing to be sorry for.

Then Tyler looked away from me. Ducking his head to hide the pained expression I managed to catch a glimpse of. And I knew I had plenty to feel guilty about.