Liar // Patrick Hockstetter x fem!Reader x Henry Bowers

Thirty-Four 》Wrapped Around His Finger

July 13, 1988

You woke up, leaving your heavy eyelids closed. Your head hurt like hell and, for some reason, your hips did too.

An arm was strongly pulling you into the warmth of someone's body. Subconsciously, you had already made out it was a boy, but you didn't mind.

You snuggled up against his naked, warm skin and pressed your face down on it. His heartbeat was audible to you as you smiled calmy, trying to fall back asleep.

The blanket, the boy next to you and the soft strokes he would give your back underneath the blanket made your position too comfortable to get up.

"Morning, sweet cheeks.", Patrick grinned, humming to himself.

His sleepy voice was slightly lower than his usual one, but cracked here and there. Hot. Although... Why were you in bed with a naked Patrick?!

You wanted to jump away, but his arm was holding you in place. Forcing you to cuddle into his long body.

Your mind must've played tricks on you, because only now you remembered yesterday night. You started to play with your feet nervously, expecting something to come from him, but not even a couple of harsh words followed.

Suprisingly, you were met with quite the opposite. The hand that had been stroking your back for at least the past five minutes made its way to your hair and started playing with it.

Other images of yesterday flashed through your mind: You, pulling his hair a bit, earning a moan from him while he fucked you on the kitchen counter;

Him, pulling your hair forcefully while his hand rested closed around your neck as he pounded into your quivering body.

You wanted to address him, even though you didn't know what to say. But before you could say anything at all, he pressed his lips onto your hair.

Then he placed another kiss on your forehead and let go of you, causing you to fall from your side onto your back.

With a smirk he leaned over you, grinning at your naked chest before locking his eyes with your's. You could only stare in disbelief.

You had done the deed with Patrick motherfucking Hockstetter.

"What? Cat got your tongue?", he asked, caressing your cheek and lifting some hair off your face.

"See, I know I'm breath-taking, but would you show me that you still have the ability to speak? Or did I fu-"
"I can still speak!", you yelped and interrupted him before he could end that sentence.

"Wonderful. Anything hurts?", he wanted to know, making you question him even more.

Did it take sex to make Patrick a good human? Was he just a gentleman in bed in general? Did he treat every girl he fucked like this?

You gulped and took your time in order to find the right words. "Yeah, my- my head is killing me and my body feels sore as hell.", you exclaimed, unsure if the boy even really wanted to know.

"Lemme get you some water."

He got up, his manhood neatly tugged away in one of his boxers, and walked through the door of his room.

His room... only now you had realized that you were in his room! You quickly looked around, searching for nothing in particular.

But you wanted to know how the boy was living. His bed had blue and red sheets, that looked as old as time. Probably still from when he was younger.

His bed itself was pretty low but had a great, big mattress on which two people could easily lay down or do other things.

He had a wooden floor and light brown to yellow walls, that were pretty damaged, burned or run down. They also looked as old as time. And by that you meant around twenty years old.

There was a desk - if you could still call it one and not a dumpster. Because it had ripped and, who would have thought, burned papers all over the scratched surface.

You could make out small dots, they looked like a collection of dead flies. What the h-

Your thoughts were interrupted by the squeaking sound of Patrick's door, which opened as slow as in some bad horror movie.

Looking at it, you saw some posters.

They looked old as well. Although they couldn't be too old, since Patrick was still a teenager and you doubted, that he got them when he was five.

The 'Mötley Crüe' one was the only one that looked kind of new. But the 'Motörhead' and 'Sid Vicious' posters could be around anything from fucking two to ten years old.

To be honest, you didn't even know those names and since no other poster had the band-name written on them, you couldn't really tell what he listened to.

[change the musicians to whatever you like. i headcanon patrick as someone, who'd listen to them and idolize them]

He held a glass of water in his hand and while he walked over to the bed, you sat up already. You forgot you were completely naked.

Grabbing his blanket, you quickly hid yourself from his lust-filled eyes.

This dude was so horny. Unbelievable! You rolled your eyes before asking him to hand you your clothes, that were sadly still laying in the kitchen.

While you drank your glass of water, he - instead of getting your clothes - made his way through the mess he called his room and grabbed some of his own items from his dresser.

When handing them to you, he couldn't help but let his eyes travel down your body once more. Actually, what were you so flustered about? You had fucked him more than enough, he had seen you naked longer than to ever expect.

Patrick didn't understand why you were so insecure or nervous around him. His brain just couldn't comprehend that.

He was openly showing, that you were very welcome to walk around without any fabric at all.

Without scaring you away, he pulled the blanket down a little, so it was scrambled on your lap. His hand slowly moved along your shoulder, gliding down to your breasts before massaging one of them.

Your shock look with blushing cheeks and agitated eyes made him smile to himself.

The hand that was just groping your breast moved to your chin, lifting your head up to make you look at him.

"You are hot as fuck, did you know that?", he asked, before slamming his lips down onto yours.

The clothes he had handed you fell onto your lap as your back made contact with the mattress again. Patrick was hovering above you, exploring your mouth with his tongue.

After some time, he pulled away from your mouth and smirked. Then, he winked, causing you to giggle before pushing him away from you. Why were you reacting like this? What the hell was he doing to you?

He landed a few centimeters next to you on the mattress. And he knew he had you wrapped around his finger.

A few compliments here, showing some affection or interest there and bam! You were head over heels for this boy.

God, he was so good at this. For a second he thought he should become an actor... But that probably wouldn't work out too good with all the killing-animals stuff, that was going on.

Whoops.