Rating:

Explicit

Category:

M/M

Fandom:

Bad Buddy

Relationship:

Pat/Pran

Tags:

canon compliant, episode tag, masturbation, missing scene, porn watching, pwp, sexual fantasies

Stats:

Posted on:

2022-07-19

Words:

3,171

Sex had been on Pat’s mind as much as it was for any other teenage boy: frequently, especially since he had turned sixteen, especially since he fooled around with some girls in high school in a weird need to prove himself to something, someone, a phantom competition that didn’t exist. Pat liked being horny and he liked jerking off—he did nearly every day, anyway. It was usually to absent fantasies of skin and friction, maybe the thought of biting a nipple or someone scraping their nails down his back. He had been no stranger to random boners when he was sixteen and seventeen, just as a physical reaction, the same way he was used to feeling his dick chub up if he looked at a girl for too long, or got fixated on their thighs, or ass, or long legs and broad shoulders—

The girls Pat always liked were tall and teased him, calling him out on his bullshit. Pat hadn’t really thought about what he looked for in a partner before, just going with instinct and feeling, enjoying flirting and getting flirted with back.

So maybe that’s what’s really throwing him off about liking Pran. Possibly liking Pran. First of all, Pat had always thought he’d only liked girls. Men hadn’t even crossed his mind as potential partners—they were fun to wrestle with, compete against and with, an easy distance that could be lifelong if he thought about it. But girls had been like that too, only with sex involved, and maybe a little bit more emotional closeness. Maybe it’s because Pat really grew into himself when he was sixteen, thinking of sex and romance after the competition had left, the competition that had dictated so much of his life and identity up until that point. Maybe it’s because that was the only relationship that had felt close, even though they weren’t close at all, but they were always watching each other, knew each other inside out, and then Pran had gone and left for three years.

Pat grits his teeth and sighs from where he’s lying on his bed, rubbing at his forehead. There’s no doubt that he feels something between them, hot and lingering, glances not just glances and touches not just touches. He had been jealous when Pran talked with his friend on his phone, even though that was so much less tangible than seeing him with some girl from his old boarding school. He misses the song that they had written together, that they had never gotten to play together in its entirety. He doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that they have matching bracelets that they got from Ink. He doesn’t know why he still has the origami receipt Pran had given him when he didn’t realize he was giving it to Pat, why he kept Pran’s guitar over all those years, why it was so important for him to make Pran smile, happy, confident that he and his friends could rebuild that bus stop.

Or maybe he does know why now.

He sighs, dragging up his laptop from where it was sitting on the ground beside his bed. There’s no doubt that whatever he feels for Pran is… significant, somehow, but it doesn’t have to mean love, right? It doesn’t have to be romantic or sexual in nature. There are a lot of other different types of intimate relationships out there that aren’t like that, and Pat’s never really… thought about a guy sexually before. Not that he cares about the physical aspect that much. It’s just—girls are hot, to him at least. He knows that. But men? Pran?

Of course, there’s really only one way to find out: to experiment. So without thinking too hard about it, Pat pulls up the first appealing gay porn site on Google, shoves his hand into his boxers, and starts browsing.

There are… a lot of naked men. They’re also all insanely buff, which Pat frowns at. Is this what gay men like? He’s not exactly opposed to it, but it’s not really doing anything for his dick. He scrolls through the videos, a little winded when he passes clips that have obvious leather and fetish gear, one thumbnail with a guy open-mouthed and a huge glob of semen on his tongue—Pat feels his neck heat up as he quickly scrolls past that one too.

Eventually he finds one that looks relatively appealing—a twenty-five minute long video of two guys who don’t look as bulky and muscled as the men in all the other videos. Pat clicks on it, rubbing his dick absently, waiting to be underwhelmed so he can just jerk off to his amorphous fantasies again.

The video starts with the two men kissing, which is fine. Kissing is hot, regardless of gender. Pat’s first real kiss had been with a girl in high school, shortly after Pran left, feeling itchy and restless under his skin. He’d had a crush on her, so he confessed to her and they dated, which meant that they would get lunch together and sometimes hang out at the mall over weekends. He’d first kissed her after one of the mall dates, holding her hand and swooping her in, the kind of romantic kiss most girls would swoon for. It had been pretty great—she was more experienced, so she was the one who had slipped her tongue into his mouth first, and they made out for a good two solid minutes before she pulled apart and smiled at him and said, “Bye Pat.” They’d broken up a month later.

Pat hasn’t given much thought to kissing men until now, but there don’t seem to be a lot of differences, other than that the guys in this porno seem to be competing for control over the kiss. Kissing Pran would be like that too, Pat thinks, stroking his dick. He’s only got an inch or two over Pran so he doesn’t have to bend down like he did for that girl, and Pran would never back down from Pat, giving as much as he got. Pat would win, of course, he knows with confidence, because as much as Pran fights back, Pat’s bigger and certainly stronger. When the guy in the porno who seems to win the kissing battle shoves the other guy down to the bed, Pat knows that that would be him doing the shoving—that Pran would look that small and caged in beneath him with Pat’s tongue in his mouth.

The heat in his belly comes as a surprise. He looks down his boxers—he’s semi-hard already. Looks like he likes men more than he thought. The ones in this video, at least. Pat kicks his boxers off the bed, then on second thought, strips off his shirt too so he’s naked. Propping himself up with his elbow, he continues stroking himself as he watches the video.

The men in it were already naked, so it’s quick work for one of them to snake down the other’s body until his face is in front of the other guy’s dick. Pat’s not really keeping track of who’s who, but when that guy puts the other’s dick in his mouth, Pat tilts his head in consideration. He’s certainly watched videos where girls gave guys blowjobs, long nails and fluttery eyelashes and painted lips. They always looked fake, like he wasn’t supposed to watch; it was much hotter for Pat to imagine the sensations instead, a warm, tight heat around his cock. But with these men Pat feels less weird about watching, like he’s supposed to imagine himself both as the giver and the receiver. What would it be like to have a cock in his mouth? What would it be like to have his cock in Pran’s mouth?

His dick twitches with interest. Pat feels the desire stir in his belly. Even though his eyes are on the video, his mind is elsewhere, imagining Pran as the guy sucking the other dude’s dick, hand on the shaft, eyelids fluttering like he’s savoring the taste, enjoying it. It’s what the guy in the video is doing, but it’s like Pat’s eyes are taking notes for what’s happening and translating it into a version of Pran in his mind.

Pran, sucking at the guy’s balls and tonguing over the length. No, not the guy in the porno’s—Pat’s. Pran with Pat’s cock in his mouth, moaning around it, eager and licking over the head like this is what his mouth is made to do.

Pat’s aware that he’s fully hard now, that he’s jerking himself off faster, rougher, tilting his head away from his laptop screen because his imagination is going full-speed. Maybe Pran’s on his knees because he was eager for it, eager for Pat’s cock and taste and come. Maybe he’d let Pat come on his face; maybe he’d want Pat to do the same to him afterward. Will he spit? Swallow? Surely he’d spit, Pat absently thinks as the burning sensation builds up. Pran’s such a stickler for cleanliness and propriety and everything being neat and, well, not gross like swallowing cum. He’d probably spit into a tissue and fold it up and toss it into the wastebin before touching himself. But what if he swallowed Pat’s cum? Let it fill his mouth, let himself get messy inside and out, let Pat get him messy?

He can feel the orgasm building up in his balls, in his toes. He looks at the video again, just as the guy getting the blowjob comes into the other one’s mouth. The other guy takes it all like he’s used to it, which he probably is, considering—but instead of spitting, or swallowing, he gets back up and leans over the other guy and kisses him, opens his mouth against the other’s, feeding him his come.

Suddenly the picture in Pat’s mind’s eye switches—now he’s the one who had been giving Pran the blowjob, Pran coming in his mouth, thighs shaking under Pat’s palms. Pat coming up to Pran’s mouth to give him a filthy kiss, sliding his tongue and Pran’s own come past his teeth, making him taste it, eat it, swallow it. Pran taking it and moaning and kissing Pat back.

And that’s what pushes Pat over the edge, so fast and hard that it nearly takes him by surprise. The orgasm punches out of him, shooting across his chest as his body bucks forward from the intensity, legs twitching as he grunts and groans and keeps on coming. He gasps, “Ah,” as it rolls through his body, tingling in his toes like he’s never had an orgasm before. When he’s done, he’s panting heavily, still clutching his dick and looking at the mess on his stomach.

“What the fuck,” he mumbles, because—what the fuck. The guys in the video are still going at it, but Pat deliberates between wiping himself off or taking a shower or just passing out from exhaustion from such an insane orgasm.

Or… continue watching the video. It’s transitioned to the next part of the scene, which is one of the guys spreading the other one’s ass cheeks, thrusting up into him quickly. Of course, that guy’s dick is already coated in lube, and he thrusts in with very little resistance, which doesn’t seem right to Pat. If Pat were fucking Pran, he’d want to open him up, make sure he was comfortable and relaxed before sliding his cock in there. He feels weird because he’d never thought about Pran’s ass before, even though they’ve seen each other in various states of undress; it’s a given when their bedroom windows are right across from each other, when they’ve had P.E. together nearly all their lives. Pat thinks of Pran’s collarbones, the smooth skin of his chest, snatches of his thighs in shorts. His shoulder blades and the curve of his spine, down to the small of his back teasing over the hidden curve of his ass.

Pat grunts as the memories shutter through his head, like he already had a catalogue of Pran’s bare skin, his body, locked in the recesses of his mind. And his ass, which Pat is thinking about now, wondering if Pran would like it if he touched it, grabbed it, sunk his teeth into his cheeks. If Pat could push his cock in, even though Pran would definitely need a good fingering first, with lube to get him wet and open for Pat’s dick, which is on the bigger side (if he does say so himself.) It’s not in this video, but he’s watched straight porn of guys fingering girls open, and the girls really seemed to like it. Would Pran like it if Pat opened him up? He feels like he would, wet and thrusting down on Pat’s fingers, complaining that it’s too much until he demands for more. Pat could finger him for hours until Pran was begging for Pat’s dick. Pat could reduce him into a sobbing mess. Pat could—

He’s hard again, lazily fisting at his cock. The guys in the video are still fucking, the sounds of their grunts and slaps faint from his laptop’s speakers in his room. He turns it down a little, embarrassed, as one of the guys clutches the other’s neck, practically choking him as he fucks him. Whenever the guys would choke the girls in straight porn Pat would exit immediately, but in this video, Pat thinks about Pran’s neck. It is a pretty neck, he could put his hand over it. Would Pran let him choke him? Would Pran want to choke him? Pat gets flashes of the images in his head now, him holding Pran by the neck like the guy in this porno, fucking Pran; lying on his back with Pran riding his cock, on top of him, hand on Pat’s neck; Pran bending him over, fucking into Pat, hand on his neck. It’s a kaleidoscope of fantasies and images and sounds that it’s almost too much, he can’t focus on anything, can’t focus on the video or his thoughts or coming again. Touching his dick feels both overwhelming and not enough all at once, but he doesn’t stop, fucking into his fist, open-mouthed and spurned on by the images in his head.

The guys in the video change positions several times, from missionary to doggy style to riding to the bottom sitting on the top’s lap, back to chest, wriggling and desperate and moaning. It is hot, hotter when Pat thinks of himself. When he thinks of Pran. When he thinks of Pran maybe sitting on his dick, gasping about how Pat’s annoying, he’s too much, and Pran wants more until he doesn’t know how to speak. When he thinks of Pran letting him see and hold and touch him everywhere, inside and out, letting Pat mount him because he wants to feel Pat deep inside him, clutching at his hips to move faster. Pat propping one of Pran’s legs up and bending him in half and making his ankles shake from where they’d be dangling off Pat’s shoulders. Pran wrapping his legs around his waist, gripping his ass, telling Pat he’s not fucking him enough, telling Pat to fuck him until he comes without touching his cock. Pran would make sex a challenge; Pat would make sex a challenge, another game that they play together, competing to win, like at sports, at school, at music. Pran does whatever he can to beat Pat; sex would be no exception. He’d push and fight back until they were both desperate to come, desperate to get the other to come, eagerly fucking against each other, grinning into each other’s mouths, Pran perhaps whispering, “Pat,” against his lips, hot, needy—

This time Pat feels the orgasm build moments before it crests, white behind his eyes as he thrusts up into the air, painting his abs and chest again. His knees feel weak by the time it’s over, and he thinks absently about investing in that fleshlight from an ad he saw earlier on the site. The guys in the video are still going at it, which makes Pat snort—that’s how you know porn is fake—and he reaches over with his clean hand to exit out of the tab and close his laptop. He shoves it to the ground where it lands with a soft thump, then flops back and sighs at the ceiling.

So. That had certainly been enlightening, to say the least. That if Pat is likes Pran, he likes him sexually, too. That the idea of sex with him, as new as it is, isn’t a turn off—in fact, it’s an insane turn-on. Pat wonders if there are other things that he doesn’t know that he likes yet, that he has yet to discover. He wonders if he could discover them with Pran. If Pran would like it, if Pran liked him too.

He doesn’t know—it’s still weird and strange, that this feeling, the excitement he gets, that he’s always gotten when he was around Pran, suddenly means more now. Or maybe it had always meant the same thing, and Pat had been too oblivious to realize it. The need for competition was one thing; the need for Pran, always looking for him in a room, aware of the distance between them, watching his every move, might be something else entirely. He had always thought of it as their rivalry, a need to look out for your enemy who wasn’t your enemy. But maybe it had been affection all along.

He runs a hand over his face, then looks down at his chest and dick where he’s still messy. On any other night he might’ve been lazy and just slept like this and dealt with the consequences in the morning, but he thinks of what it would be like to have Pran as a lover, what he would be like now, after sex, after Pat had made him come maybe three times. He’d make Pat go into the shower and clean himself off and put on real clothes before going to sleep.

Heaving himself up, Pat drags himself into the bathroom, knees a bit wobbly from the force of his orgasms. He washes himself up in a daze, grabbing the first pair of boxers and t-shirt he locates from his wardrobe before throwing himself back into bed. He probably likes Pran. Maybe he still likes Ink, too. He can like them both.

But as he drifts off to sleep, the only thing in his mind is about how he’s looking forward to the Freshy Day contest, seeing Pran play his guitar, competing against him again, so easy and familiar that it makes Pat smile into his pillow. Like the butterflies in his core are as just as much a part of him as the blood in his veins.