aware (peterick)

18

smut warning

~~~

"Hey there, stranger."

I peer nonchalantly into the bedroom, amused to see Patrick wide awake with his arms restrained above his head, staring at the ceiling with a bored expression on his face. It seems he is so deep in thought he hasn't heard me. He shrugs his shoulders a bit, like he's trying to wriggle some feeling into them, but other that that he shows no sign that he's uncomfortable. Gone are the panic attacks ensued by the suffocating shackles depriving him from movement. His sexual desires are to thank for that.

Sighing, Patrick turns his head to look toward the door, flinching violently when he sees me grinning at him. "Jesus, Pete!" he gasps, his chains jangling noisily against the headboard, and I chuckle as I saunter into the room. "You scared me."

"Well," I tease. "I am naturally terrifying."

"I thought you'd be gone longer," he says, half faded eyes watching me with intrigue as I perch at the edge of the bed. "What was it you needed to tell Brendon, anyway?"

"I just needed to make sure he sorted out all of our court forms." I toe off my shoes and kick them across the floor, lifting my feet from the ground and swivelling to face Patrick. "He said Dallon is sorry about last night."

He scoffs. "I would forgive him; if only I wanted to see his face ever again."

"You've only met him once," I say. "How come you hate him so much already?"

"You were there, Pete. Wasn't it obvious?"

What else was supposed to be obvious, other than the fact Dallon was clearly being a creepy, impolite asshole on purpose to intimidate Patrick? My first impression hadn't concluded he was old. He isn't another Tamsin; Brendon isn't going to call me up in a few hours to tell me he died from a stroke. My point is, just because he's a fucking hypocrite doesn't mean he's dangerous. Dangerous people stimulate fear, not hatred.

Patrick had been scared, too.

I wanted to kill him.

But why?

Patrick inhales sharply and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, edging his thighs apart. The question he asks is a hypothetical one. It isn't a request. "Are you going to let me out of these chains?"

I'm like a moth to a flame, darting to acquaint my aroused body with his. I lower my lips to his neck, tutting against his throat as he grinds his hips upward. He wraps his legs around my waist and hooks his heels into the backs of my thighs. "You silly, silly boy," I groan as I begin to tease him, kneading the balls of my hands against the inner sides of his thighs. "Did you seriously think I was going to let you get away that easily?"

His eyes are lifeless as his fangs spring out. "Fuck no," he wheezes.

He starts to squirm and whimper when my face disappears from his view, preventing his fangs from entering my neck to gain the sweet release he's been craving all day. I pin his hips to the mattress as I hurriedly remove his pants, which are swiftly followed by his boxers until he is left exposed and throbbing. He tries desperately to thrust his hips, searching for friction, but he's not going anywhere, not even as I coat two of my fingers in spit before shoving them into him simultaneously with no warning. He cries out in agony, though he has proven to me in the past that he is more than capable of taking it. "Pete," he breathes pleasurably, sucking hungirly at the air. "Please, let me-"

I quieten him with my lips, and he moans into my mouth as my fingers brush against his sweet spot. "You'll get your reward, baby," I murmur, hissing in pain when his teeth pierce my bottom lip. He sucks feverishly. Sooner than either of us had anticipated, my fingers have been replaced, my hips bucking sporadically as Patrick's lips find their solace at my neck, and body and mind explode in a whirlwind of inhuman sounds.

Patrick pauses for breath to request that I touch him, and I comply with gratitude, ignoring the searing pain in my throat as he tears it to shreds. I could happily die right here, fucking him and being fucked by him at the same time.

I will die, but that's ok.

"I fucking love you," I whisper, welcoming unconsciousness.

And I do. I really fucking do.