aroceu's ficIt ends as it often does—Pran losing control, shaking in Pat’s arms as Pat fucks him into completion, hand on Pran’s dick as he comes, thumbing over the head, his release. Pran tightens around his dick and he’s so sexy, little choked off gasps and moans that it’s only a matter of seconds before Pat is following suit, biting down on Pran’s shoulder as he shoves himself inside and comes. Pran loves being in control, leveraging situations over Pat but Pat knows he likes breaking apart in his arms even more, to have Pat holding onto him, getting him there, and putting him back together.
Pran’s still trembling, the ripples of his back tensing and flexing against Pat’s chest, as Pat comes back to his body from yet another mind-shattering orgasm. Pat moves his hand from Pran’s hips up to his sides, splaying his fingers on his ribcage, kissing on where he had bitten Pran moments ago. “Baby,” Pat says, and Pran lets out a little laugh, a little groan.
“Give me a moment,” he says, voice frail but so, so bright.
He’s taking deep breaths. Pat is, too, drawing back and examining his hand covered with Pran’s come. Even though Pran says it’s gross, Pat has never found anything about Pran gross—the taste of his come is as good as he smells. Better, even. He sucks at his own fingers noisily, licking his palm. From the bed, Pran is still on his hands and knees, laughing as his head falls between his arms. “Pat, why,” he says, like Pat has never done this before.
“Because you’re so sexy,” Pat teases. Pran glances over his shoulder to look at him, so Pat meets his gaze and slowly sucks his middle finger into his mouth.
Pran laughs again. “Oh my god,” he says, ducking his head down again. “I think I need another moment.”
He’s vulnerable like this. That’s why being in a relationship with Pran makes Pat feel so punch-drunk, even after so many years—being able to break down all of Pran’s walls, every single one until Pran is on his stomach or back, just begging for him. Sometimes Pat feels so full of love that he thinks he’ll burst, wants Pran to know, cover him in it, inside and out. And that Pran wants him like that too is magical, unreal. Every morning Pat wakes up to Pran making breakfast and kissing him on the mouth feels like a dream.
Pat trails his thumb down Pran’s spine, feeling him tremble and arch but not protest. He gets to the base of his spine, dimples here as cute as the ones on Pran’s face, then to his ass, where he’d been inside just minutes before. Pran still says nothing as Pat’s thumb brushes over his hole, feeling where he’s still wet inside.
(Use protection, Pat had once been told, and they did, the first few times. It was Pran who had first said, Can we, this time—I want to feel you, his hand on Pat’s as Pat was about to open the condom. Pran had bitten his bottom lip and said, I know you haven’t done it with anyone else either, and I keep thinking about it, and Pat was so blindly turned on he had thrown the condom aside and kissed Pran senseless and fucked him raw for the first time, and it was so good that they hadn’t been able to stop since.)
A bit of his own come is leaking out, and it’s so hot that Pat would get turned on again if they hadn’t just fucked twice in a row. He spreads Pran’s cheeks apart, watching Pran’s hole loosen and contract, as if eager and shy all at once. It’s the hottest thing Pat’s ever seen. He drags his thumb down where a trail of his come has seeped out, and pushes it back up, into Pran’s hole.
Pran yelps. “Napat!” he shouts, twisting to look at him. His face is so red it might as well be on fire.
Pat laughs at him. “What? Let me clean you up,” he says brazenly, and sits back down, keeping his hands on Pran’s ass to hold him steady and so that he can’t escape.
“What do you mean clean me up?” Pran says, but he’s barely finished the question before Pat spreads his cheeks again and licks over his hole without warning. Pran’s voice cuts off into a groan. “Pat, that’s…”
“Sexy. You’re so cute back here.” Pat can taste a little bit of his own come, and it’s not an amazing flavor but Pran’s reaction is more than worth it. Pat sinks his teeth into one of Pran’s cheeks and smiles against his skin when he hears Pran grunt again. “Don’t push me away, okay? Unless you really don’t want to do this.”
“No, it’s—” Pran tries again, but then Pat’s diving in between his cheeks, squeezing and kneading as he licks him up, cleaning the mess around his reddened hole, burying his face into Pran’s ass.
Pran doesn’t fight it. Pat can only imagine all the things he’s thinking right now—it’s dirty, they haven’t really done this before, they just finished, Pat is licking his own come—but at the same time, Pran is making these needy little noises into his pillow, thrusting his hips back that Pat knows that not only is Pran letting his guard down once more for him, he’s actively enjoying it. Pat gets bolder, suckling noisily, loud embarrassing sounds as he stuffs his face further into Pran’s cheeks like he could get lost in here for hours. And he could—Pran smells so good even here, and the taste of his skin mingling with Pat’s come is more divine than Pat could have ever imagined. Pat drags his tongue over his hole, over and over again, wriggling inside and slurping and getting more of his come on his tongue as it slips out. Pran is shaking again, even though his cock isn’t hard anymore. Pat kisses him like he would kiss Pran on the mouth, tender and hungry all at once.
Then he pushes Pran’s ass cheeks apart and hollows his cheeks, sucking so loudly that it echoes around the room, the rush of the rest of his come flooding his mouth as he holds Pran tight while Pran falls apart again, right then and there. Pat slides his hand to Pran’s dick to catch his come as Pran doesn’t like dirtying his bedsheets, but there’s nothing except a little bit of wetness, and his release still cooling from before. He’d had a dry orgasm, Pat realizes as he finishes licking Pran clean while Pran’s thighs shake around him. Cool.
Pat keeps licking and licking even though there’s none of his come left, even though Pran’s hole is red and swollen and shiny with his spit. Eventually, Pran’s hand comes back and he pushes at his head. “Stop it, it’s too much,” he says, voice hoarse.
Pat pulls back, but grins. “I can’t help it, you just taste so good.”
“You’re disgusting,” says Pran.
Pat goes to wet a towel from Pran’s bathroom, then comes back to clean him up. “I didn’t hear you complaining,” he says. “You’re disgusting too.”
“Yeah, well.” Pran rolls his eyes. As soon as Pat wipes his stomach and dick clean, he collapses onto his bed. “Unfortunately, I’ve been influenced by my boyfriend.”
“He must be lucky,” Pat teases, “if he gets to mess up someone like you.”
“Oh, shut up and come here,” Pran says, and grabs Pat’s hand so that Pat falls with him onto his bed, laughing and kissing Pran’s chest in the afternoon light.