mel .į twenty-two years of apple picking. she/her pisces pumpkin spice. fluorescent beige with chai latte drizzle. art donaldson enthusiast.
new to the haunted house of adulting. patashi apple cider + artrick pumpkin donuts. streaming cozy vibes on apple music. mdni. 18+ to enter .į
directions to the pumpkin patch: masterlist į° rules į° ao3 į° taglist į° kinktober
currently picking apples: yes .į
freshly picked apples:: obsessed! art donaldson x milf!reader, cuteness aggression!art, slow sex!patrick, stalker!art part 2, blow and blow frat!artrick, daddyās home dads!artrick
IN NO WAY AM I SHAMING YOU but pleaseā¦chapter four of eyes wide shut? iām in love with it so bad i need closure ahaha n ure thegoat btw but please baaaaaa please š
oh wow this has been sitting for a while iām so sorry I am very not active hereš
honestly the last chapter is like maybe halfway done? I havenāt opened the doc in so long and I donāt wanna promise anything but I can definitely try my best!
for those that are curious I posted eyes wide shut on ao3 :)
glee club!art donaldson | everybody loves a winner, so nobody loved me . . . āŖ
. . . lyrics from maybe this time (specifically the glee cast version).
. . .youāll never guess what iāve been watching recentlyā¦ okay itās glee, damn. iām re-obsessing over it </3
. . . glee!art donaldson, who damn near founded his collegeās glee club. in my mind, heās a lot like rachel but more subtly manipulative/controlling. yes, he gets every leadā but itās not his fault! he loves when others try out for the same parts as him, actually. it reaffirms his own superiority. glee is something heās great at; he clings to it, desperately.
. . . glee!art who bats his eyelashes just a bit as he offers you a printed poster (his own design!) advertising the glee club. heās heard you sing once or twice, and youād make a great duo with him. it helps that youāre cute, too.
. . . you might say no at first, but heās persistent. donaldson has a class or two with you and he makes sure to bring up the glee club at least once each time he sees you. if youāre walking together, heāll purposefully guide you past the glee room, never pushing you in but always reminding you that itās there. itās there, waiting for you (and so is he).
. . . glee!art who grins as he shows you off to the club. finally, youāve joined. he urges you to sing a little snippet, then sits next to you as their director begins discussing their next numbers. warm ups come afterwards, though you canāt help but notice donaldsonās eyes on you as you softly sing the solfĆØge.
. . . glee!art who convinces you to try out for half of a romantic duet. he doesnāt tell you he already has the other half of it; no need to ruin the surprise. when itās revealed youāll be singing with him for the duet, he takes it as an opportunity to invite you to his dorm. just practice, he swears. practice that ends with the two of you standing nose to nose, his eyes entranced by your lips as you singā¦ but you donāt kiss, so itās still just practice.
. . . heās not someone youād call domineering or controlling. and yet, the club seems to depend on him forā¦ everything. the only person who doesnāt consider his input is the director of the club (something art has definitely complained about to you). itās a little strange that the other club members almost worship him (or, at the very least, stay out of his way), but you try not to mind it. he does a lot of good for the club, regardless, and itās clear he cares.
. . . iām not sure abt tashi & patrick in this au tbhā¦ srry theyāre not my focus here LMAO. maybe iāll add them later. anyways, iāll prob write more for this later esp for holiday time bc i think this concept wld be rlly fun then. and i know in the movie patrick is talent and art is training like sportswise but mike faist has canonically been on that musical stuff soo.... #glee!artreal
of course you knew that your best friend was a fucking pervert; as if no one knew about that already. you didnāt count the number of time you had found patrick actually jerking off in your bed whenever he came around for a sleepover. his hand deep into his boxers, his other hand holding a picture of you and him from the bed table.
but only if it was just thatā¦ you could swear that some of your panties had disappeared from your apartment. your thoughts immediately went to patrick; mostly because he was the only one coming over ā if you forgot about your girl friends (which none were crazy enough to steal underwears from you).
but what really did it for you was the day you went to visit patrick. he had texted you, pretexting to be sick and needing to be taken care of. his apartment smelled like dead rats and pizza; which was a weird combination but so patrick-like. and he hadnāt lied, he was truly sick. the whole fever, nausea, aching muscles type of sick.
you had decided to help him out by making him so soup, opening the windows of his room while he was napping in the living room. thatās when you found themā¦ your lost panties. there, under his bed, crusty with what seemed to be semen. your first reaction was to be disgusted; to get mad, to wake him up. ācome on, iām sickā¦ canāt you scold me later?ā
āyou fucking pervert.ā and he hadnāt deny that at all. but deep down, you couldnāt help yourself and thought about it when you got back home that day.
you imagined patrick with your panties in hand, jerking his cock up and down while dirty talking to himself; āfuck, iām such a pervertā¦ā or something like, āit smells so goodā¦ your pussy smells so good.ā you imagined patrick with your underwear against his face, sniffing the musk of it like he needed it to stay alive.
you couldnāt help but think of him as he came onto your panties; keeping them near so he thought about you day and night.
ā”ļø ā REQUESTED. during a practise session, patrick has you setting pretty on his lap. it comes as a surprise to no one that he wants more than you just sitting there.
ā”ļø ā cw .į 18+. 1.1k words. smut. unprotected p in v. creampie.
ā”ļø ā notes .į um so i'm already obsessed with my band!au pls send more reqs <3
"can you get off his dick for like," art groans, guitar in handāstood behind the microphone, facing patrick's drum kit. "two seconds? need to fuckin' practise."
"we are practising," patrick smirks. yeah, he might be holding his drum sticks and sat at his kit, but actually focusing on the songs he's playing is the furthest thing from his mind.
your arm stays around patrick's neck, twisting around to look at art's growing annoyance. "was i or was i not singing that whole time?" you taunt, speaking into the microphone into your hand as if to prove your point.
"tashi, help meāplease," art whines, as patrick continues to ignore him.
patrick's hands move to rest on the top of your thighs, squeezing as he keeps you thereāsitting pretty on his lap. his lips start trailing up your neck, leaving wet kisses behind.
"oh, give me a fuckin' break," art groansāagain. you can tear tashi faintly laugh, still strumming the bass in her hands.
the sticks in patrick's hands drop to the floor, as he grabs the back of your head. bringing your face to his, lips attacking yours without a care in the world.
his tongue slides into your mouth, as your arms fully drape around his neck againāmicrophone dropped from your own hands, hitting the floor with a thud and hit of feedback through the amps.
"fuck this shit." art mutters, setting his guitar down on it's stand, and storming out the door. tashi only laughs, and slowly follows suit. "you owe us an hour of practise!" she teases, as the door closes behind her.
"fuck me, finally." patrick murmurs against your lips, all smug and smirking as his hands trail up under your shirt.
"you're such a dick," you mumble, fingers trailing up and down the bare skin of his back. his skin hot and sweating from the half hour of playing before patrick couldn't ignore the way you were sitting on his lap any longer.
"you want my dick, you said?" he tauntsātwisting your words as he always does. pulling back from your lips to look into your eyes. his already darkened, smirk heavy on his lips.
"why didn't you just say so, baby?" patrick mutters, as his hands move to grab a fistful of your ass.
his lips attach to your neck again, mouth sucking the skināleaving a new mark next to the fading hickey he left last week. he'd paint your entire body blue and purple if you let him.
"stand up a second, baby," patrick mumbles against your skin, guiding you to your feet with his hands still groping the fat of your ass.
his fingers move to the zip of his jeans as you stand, your hands in his hairāeyes looking down to the brunette before you, lip between your teeth.
that smirk doesn't leave his lips, as he hastily frees his growing boner from it's constraints. patrick's hands grab at your hips, pulling you back down onto his lap.
his head falls back slightly, as the lace of your panties meets his member below your skirt. your arms tighten around his neck, rolling your hips softly against his.
"such a dirty little girl, aren't you, baby?" patrick teases, big hands guiding your movements against him. "gonna let me fuck you right here, where anyone could see?"
your lip is caught between your teeth, nodding softly down to him. soft hums escaping you as his tip bumps your clit with each roll of his hips.
"god, you're fuckin' perfect," he mumbles, as his hand reaches below your skirt. pulling your panties to the side, sliding himself through your slickness, before he positions himself at your entrance.
"say please." he murmurs, holding himself there. eyes on yours, gulping as he looks over your featuresāeyes all but begging him.
"patrick, c'monā"
"i said," he mutters, the hand resting on your hip moving up to grab your face. fingers pushing your cheeks together, forcing a pout on your lips. "say fucking please."
his cock is twitchingādesperate to buck his hips up and force himself into you, but he doesn't let up.
"please." you whisper, brows furrowed and begging.
as soon as the word leaves your hips, he's pushing himself into you. both hands on your hips, forcing you up and down on his lap.
you can't but cry out his name, fingers digging into his shoulders. the pain of the stretch quickly turns to pleasure, as his length hits your g-spot with every thrust.
your moans echo around the room, and you're fucking grateful that art didn't want to record the audio from today's practise session. patrick's fucking clever, he'd find a way to hide your moans in the next single if he had them on tape.
"always take me so good, princess," patrick coos, as his lips messily meet yours. teeth and tongues sliding over each other, as his hips jackrabbit up from the stool.
your eyes squeeze shut, eyeliner smudging as his speed increases. your hips desperately try to match his thrusts, rhythm offāclinging onto his body as patrick bites down on your lower lip. sucking it into his mouth, before your head falls back in bliss.
"fuck, patā" you moan, eyes glued to hisābreathing heavy. "so fuckin' goodāshit."
"yeah?" he breathes out, hands on your hips as pace slows, letting you grind against him. his curls growing slick to his forehead, chest heaving as he lets you use him.
"mhm," you hum, hips rolling back and forth against him. clit bumping the base of him, brows furrowing.
patrick doesn't warn youāhips jutting up harshly, his tip hitting against your g-spot roughly with every thrust. his forehead falling against your shoulder, lips aimlessly kissing at every bit of skin he can reach.
"gonna fuckin' come, baby, fuck," he mutters against your skin, the words barely hitting your ears before his load splutters up inside you.
patrick stays there, catching his breath before pulling his head up to meet yours again. "you're too fuckin' pretty on my lap, baby." he mumbles, pushing your hair back behind your ears.
soft blush washes over your cheeks, as you place a haste kiss to his forehead. "all sweaty." you mumble, scrunching your nose as you lean back.
"oh yeah, and who's fault is that?" he teases, with a soft smack to your ass. you roll your eyes as you stand up from his lap, re-adjusting your skirt as you do.
patrick smirks up to you, covering himself back up as he zips up the fly of his jeans. you lean down to kiss his lips againāsoftly, as his hands gently caress the back of your thighs.
only does the sound of both of your phones chiming pull you away from him.
opening up your phone, to see two new messages from: CHALLENGERS
art: new band rule
art: NO MORE FUCKING DURING PRACTISE!!!!!
currently reading: scappy little nobody, anna kendrick last song: seigh ride, ella fitzgerald
last film: death becomes her
last series: smallville
salty, savory, or sweet?: sweet
tea or coffee?: coffee
working on?: my fics for dickkory week!
Currently reading Peril at End House by Agatha Christie
Last song D.I.T.B. By fallingwithscissors
Last film (Half of) Funny Games 2008 by Michael Haneke
Last series Smallville (s3)
Salty, savoury, or sweet savoury
Tea of coffee coffee (instant coffee with milk since I was 9)
Working on "Secretary" CH2 & "Together, Forever" (TogetherAU x Patrick Zweig)
i completely forgot that i was tagged in thisā oops
thank you so much too my lovely moot @illumoria for tagging me, and hereās 10 more: @pedaltothepetal, @ellaynaonsaturn, @faistrodeo, @roryheartz, @jordiemeow, @coolgrl111, @artstennisracket, @carpenfaist, @ghostgirl-22, and @artspats!!!
āĖā” emo fuck: scenemo!patrick x afab!cheerleader!reader.
ź° summary: when you swear you'd never let that loser emo touch you again but here you are, inside the bathroom during a party, his dick inside you. yeah. ź±
ź° cw: mdni. +18. 5.1k words. bullying. teasing. mocking. mention of blackmail. name-calling (bitch/whore). dirty-talking. description of reader as a sex-toy. mention of deepthroating. hair pulling. making out. nipple play. oral sex (reader!receiving). protected piv. bitchy!patrick & reader. ź±
Patrick wasnāt the type of guy to wake up at Godās hour on a Saturday morning, and especially not if the remnant of the party from the night before was still in his veins.
He remembered the Vodka served in the typical red cup, a laughter from behind him and a smirk on his face as he had watched you, passing by with disgust on your face like you liked to show so well.
It wasnāt the first time and probably wouldnāt be the last either; because in the campus hierarchy, Patrick was way under you. Him, and his skinny jeans, his black eyeliner and all the shitty things that made himā¦ him. The cocky emo asshole, as you liked to call him.
Yes, he was a cockroach under your pretty shoes; you were better than him, after all. What could be wrong with the cheerleader captain? You had great grades, friends that liked you, great skin, great hair.Ā
You were perfect in all the ways your friends wanted you to be, superior and superficial. But there was something you could never be; free like Patrick was.
And that? It made your blood boil every time you saw his face on the campus, at the frat parties he knew how to get invited to. The fucker with his cocky smile, his fucking skinny jeans that showed a bit too much in the lower region ā the freak who got on your nerves like no one else.
And Zweig always made it his mission to annoy you whenever he was around, throwing you looks like he knew something you didnāt, a cocky fucking smile on his face and eyes that sparkled. Fuck that guy. Quite literally.
The first time it happened, it was during the Halloween frat party. You had been invited by one of your friendās boyfriend ā the type of guy that wouldnāt touch with a stick and you ignored him most of the time.
You went there wearing your cheerleader uniform as a last-minute costume, but you knew how many of the guys there liked it, oogling you like you were a trophy. Disgusting pigs. Though, red cup in your hand, you never expected to find Patrick smoking a joint in the backyard when the music got too loud for your ears.
You could remember the way his eyes followed the curves of your body, his lips curling in a smirk that made the heat pool in your lower belly, even when you tried to disguise it as annoyance.
A few insults were thrown around but mostly on your part, āWhich dumbfuck invited you in, loser?ā, āYou useless piece of shitā or even āYou emo fuck.ā (Not your greatest insult). And Patrick never backed away from you, thatās probably what brought you closer.Ā
You donāt even know how it had happened really, but by the end of the night, you were both fucking on the side of the house while the party was still going on inside. The loud music covered your moans ā how you cried Patrick's name while he pistonned you on his cock.
Your fingers tugged on his hair, your pussy creamed his hardness like no one else did before and you held onto him while coming from your high. You couldnāt lie to yourself; it had been the best sex of your life.
Yes, but you were too proud and as soon as it was over, you mocked it off and walked away, throwing another insult at Patrickās face. Since then, it was like he had something to blackmail you with.Ā
You tried your best to keep the disgust on your face whenever he was around, mocking him loudly when your friends could hear and laugh about it. It wouldn't change those moments you had with him under the bleachers; how you gagged on his cock while he called you his little cheerleader whore.
When his fingers tugged on your hair and forced your throat to accommodate to his cock. When he came down your throat and you swallowed, glaring at him with rage and disgust even though he knew you loved it all.
Thatās exactly what had happened that night again.
One of the fraternities had thrown another of their famous parties; loud music, red cups being shared around with alcohol so strong that one sip was enough for your throat to burn like a dragonās. That time, no one had costumes but most of the cheerleaders still had their uniforms on ā just being back from a tournament.
All the girls were glad for this party and even you, being the captain wasnāt always easy, even if you were confident enough to know youād win the trophy again.
Your body pushed past others, waving and smiling at those who talked to you like you were friends or just acquaintances. Your feet walked and you found yourself in the ā what seemed to be the kitchen ā and when you turned your head to the side, you saw him.
The fucker.
Here, again, with his glorious cockiness and his fucking black skinny jeans like he knew those were your kryptonite. The bulge they were creating was candy for your orbs but you tried to keep those up, to his face ā just to see him already looking at you.
You scoffed and rolled your eyes, and for a second, you cursed the fact that no one you knew seemed to be around at the moment. Your movements faltered and Patrick took the occasion to speak. āDidnāt think youād be here. The tournament went well?ā
You could feel the mocking in his voice like he had any rights to use the tone with you, that fucking freak. You ignored him for a second but the urge to reply was too heavy.
āTāfuck you want, loser? Why you care?ā You asked back at him, eyes glowing with disgust even if you knew Patrick would see through it. He shrugged and looked away, acting like he didnāt really care. Maybe he just wanted to annoy you, like he always did.
A silence (not so much, with the loud music, the chatter, the laughter) fell between you both and you took a sip of your red cup, leaning back against the kitchen counter.
But even with that, you couldnāt help yourself and kept talking.
āWho the fuck invited you, anyway? You have friends here, emo fuck?ā You threw at him, the childish mocking evident in your tone. Patrickās eyes shifted back to your face and he didnāt even look insulted. He smirked, sipping his own drink ā alcohol ā as you guessed.
For a second, he did just that. Drinking, looking at you through his eyelashes before he licked his lips, pink tongue dragging along his lower lip and wetting his lip ring.
āYouāre such a bitch, uh? Think you better than me?ā He finally spoke and you scoffed at his words. Thought you were better than him? Of course you were. You were the cheerleader captain, the one with lots of friends, idolized by almost everyone on the campus, with the good grades and pretty face. While Patrick was the fucking loser. Just Patrick.
āBabe, of course I am. I am better in any way.ā You said, looking at him up and down.Ā
āThatās not what you said when I had my fat fucking cock inside your pussy, two weeks ago.ā The words made you straighten your back and you snarled at him, disgust on your face that, for once, looked more natural than any other expressions.
Your shoes hit the floor as you approached him, one finger pointed at his chest. āShut the fuck up, you fucking loser. This never happened, heard me?!ā You replied, even though you knew there was no way you could threaten someone like Patrick. Not someone that didnāt give a fuck about anything.Ā
Patrick smirked again ā like it was his favorite thing to do whenever you talked because in a way, he was the one mocking you more than you mocked him. You could act high and mighty but he had you wrapped around his finger like the pathetic thing you were.
āYeah, yeah. I never made you cream on my cock, I guess.ā The words were said with amusement ā this was nothing but a game to him. To you, it was your reputation on the edge if anyone heard this conversation.
So you did the only thing that made sense and grabbed his wrist, fingers tight as you tugged him away from the kitchen and into the crowd of party people. No one seemed to care; either too drunk, too high or too busy with having fun.
You couldnāt help but throw glances around to make sure no one could blackmail you with being seen with the emo loser of Stanford University.
The sound of yours and Patrickās steps on the stairs was eaten by the loud music, even when you both made your way to one of the empty bathrooms of the second floor. You pushed Patrick inside, realizing he held little to zero reticence to what was happening.
He moved to lean his back onto the counter, crossing his arm onto his tight shirt, bracelets clicking onto one another. You closed the door behind you both and for a second, you gave yourself the permission to really look at him.
Black skinny jeans, two belts on his waist, a tight black shirt (one that looked more of a crop top the way you could see his happy trail) with a stupid trash print on it ā probably from a band he listened to ā some beat Converse shoes, black painted nails, one streak of red in his hair.
He was the typical stereotype of an emo boy.Ā
āIf you wanted me to fuck you again, you just had to say it.ā His words took you out of your thoughts and you groaned at him, rolling your eyes. āYouāre not as funny as you think you are, you fucker. Stop joking. It happened likeā¦ twice and wonāt happen again.ā You replied to him immediately, leaning back against the door, arms crossed on your cheerleader top, a sliver of skin showing between the fabric and the hem of your skirt.Ā
But who were you kidding? You both had sex twice before, you had gagged on his cock at least three times and let him finger you under the bleachers before too. It was bound to happen again.
Patrickās eyes seemed to follow where your skin was showing, finally, and didnāt reply. He hummed under his breath, words you didnāt care about enough to ask about. He licked his bottom lip again, and you had to look away because you knew the effect that had on you; even if he was unaware of that.
You refused to let him use it as a weapon against you. And you refused to fell into his fucking game once more.
You refused to think about his lips on yours, his fingers tugging your panties to the side, stretching your pussy out with cold digits, his tongue licking stripes from your hole to your clit. Thinking about his pink tip pushing inside your pussy... Fuck, no.
You sighed, pushing the thoughts away before looking at him again but his eyes were already on you like he understood what you were thinking about. He smirked again and pushed himself from the counter to approach you. āI bet youāre wet right now. Popular cheerleader wanting to be fucked by the emo loser, flashnews.ā
You hated the tone in his voice but couldnāt deny the truth those words held. You didnāt reply and Patrick took that as an invitation.Ā
Soon enough, he was close enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath on your face ā the stink of alcohol made you furrow your eyebrows in disgust ā his hands moved to your hips and you did nothing to move away, but your lips parted.
āThe fuck you think you are doing, you asshole? Move your fucking hands.ā You snarled at him, your own hands grabbed his biceps, his short sleeves making you able to feel his skin under your palms.
His muscles bulged under your grip and your attention shifted to where your hands rested; thinking about how this loser could make you feel like that. You hated this. He was nothing compared to you, he was no one, and never will be.
You could never be seen around this fucker, you; the one on top of the hierarchy. Yet, you couldnāt deny the attraction you felt for him or how the heat pooled in your belly every time he gave you his infamous smirk.Ā
āYou listening to me?ā Your eyes shifted back to his face when he talked, and thatās when you realized his hands were now under the top of your uniform, cold onto your warm skin, fingers spread onto your ribs. You didnāt move. Not because you couldnāt, but because you didnāt want to.Ā
āI saidā¦ I bet your tits are as soft as they were last time. Going to let me touch them?ā Patrickās voice was filled with mocking, like he was the one holding the reins, and maybe he was, in that moment.
You sighed, expression turning into disgust once more before you replied to him, trying to shift the dominance back your way. āI mean, thatās the only pair of tits youāll never touch, eh? Iām probably being generous to you right now.ā
He chuckled at the words coming from your mouth but instead of keeping the banter going, he only moved his hands higher on your body ā until they stopped to cup your breasts above your bra.
He didnāt stop there, and lifted the fabric of your top above the valley of your tits, only so he could see what he was doing and probably so you could feel the humiliation of his eyes on your body. As if you were ever going to give him that ā to him, to this loser.Ā
Patrickās eyes then moved back to your face like waiting for permission, and only being given a look in return. One he understood, since his fingers pushed your bra up, your breasts bounced back for his pleasure ā he grinned at the view he had now. āJust as I remembered.ā to which you replied with a grunt, āShut the fuck up, oh my God.ā
His cold hands moved to cup your bare tits, heavy in his palms, cold thumbs brushing onto your nipples ā the action made you shiver and arch closer to him. He immediately smirked and looked at you like he won the round. Like he was the winner of a game he was playing alone in this bathroom.
He didnāt say anything and he suddenly pinched your nipples between his fingers, rolling them until you gasped and your thighs clenched. You didnāt want to give him the satisfaction of knowing you liked it ā but the pleasure was too visible on your face.
Patrick kept silent, tugging and pinching your nipples. āFuck, you're such a fucking loserā¦ā The words left your mouth before you could help yourself but they were more of a habit than a real insult, for once.
And Patrick, fucking loser that he was, replied by lowering his head to your chest, sucking one nipple into his mouth. Lips closing around your bud, tongue circling it, teeth grazing it as you threw your head back against the door. The cold metal of his lip ring made you shiver.
One of your hands immediately left his bicep to tug on his hair, pulling him closer. One nipple inside his mouth and the other between his finger; you felt the wetness pool between your thighs, pussy clenching around nothing as Patrick only gave attention to your chest.
At that moment you knew that you didnāt want him to stop; because even if you hated him ā or acted like you did ā he made you feel good.Ā
His hips moved to grind against your thighs, the rough fabric of his jeans scratched your skin due to the short cheerleader skirt you wore. You could already feel the bulge rubbing onto you; Patrick rutting like a dog in heat and almost begging to put it inside you.
āI hope you have a fucking condom, Iām not letting you fuck me raw.ā The words escaped your lips and he finally let go of your nipple in a loud pop; now wet with his saliva.
Patrick lifted his head back to you, serious and he moved his free hand in his pocket. āYeah, yeahā¦ Somewhere in here.ā He replied before taking his wallet out. You rolled your eyes at his action until he took a condom out, and just placed it on the bathroom counter.
āLet me justā¦ Okay, maybe Iām the one who really wants to fuck now.ā He joked but you didnāt laugh.
He moved his attention away from your tits, his hands tugging at the uniform skirt you wore, until it pooled at your ankles. You helped him by shifting your legs open, hands on his shoulders as he fell onto his knees in front of you. Patrick sighed like he had just seen Heaven, focused on the damp patch of wetness decorating your panties. āLooks so fucking goodāā
You groaned at him, one hand snaking into his dark curls just to tug on it. āAre you going to talk or eat my pussy out, loser?ā Those words made him smirk again and you almost regretted them.
He looked up at you when his cold fingers slowly pushed your panties down; past your hips, down your thighs and at your ankles. The cold air hit your skin, making you realize how wet you were at that moment.
He licked his lips when looking at you, hands moving to your thighs to spread them a little, making you move your feet apart. You kept holding on onto his shoulders, looking at his face with impatience.
āHey, weirdo, stop looking andāā You couldnāt even finish your sentence as Patrick went for it without any warning. He immediately closed his lips around your warm clit, sucking and swirling his tongue in circles. You gasped, almost folding over but he held you firmly with his hands on your thighs. āFuckāā The curse left your mouth as he sucked more.
It was the first time Patrick ate you out so you couldnāt really compare to previous experiences; but you could tell that it was going to be good, the way he played with your clit.Ā
And even as he finally let go to flatten his tongue and lick stripes along your wet folds, hands moving to spread your lips out, you couldnāt stop looking at him. His nose rubbed against your bud of nerves, doing it on purpose as he saw your thighs shaking every time he did. Patrick wanted you to be on the edge and yet, not enough for you to cum. And it was sweet but torturous when he fucked your hole with his tongue.Ā
He moaned at the taste of your pussy, the vibrations making you moan and curse at him.
Something tightened in your belly as he went back to sucking on your clit, and you squirmed; but when you felt the sweet deliverance of your orgasmā¦ It was gone.
Patrick moved his head away from between your thighs, smirking and proud of himself. You tugged on his hair, eyebrows furrowed and anger on your face. āWhat the fuck? What are you doing? Go back to it.ā You told him.
But he could care less about how you felt as he stood up from the floor; licking his lips to taste you again. His chin and nose were glistening with your juices; it was obscene and perverted but it made you clench.Ā āDidn't know your pussy tasted that good.ā
Before you could do anything, his lips were on yours; clashing and violent. You tasted yourself on his tongue as he pushed it inside your mouth; hands pulling at your hips to bring you closer. His own hips rutted against your bare thigh, making you feel his hard cock under the fabric of his skinny jeans once more.
Your hands moved to undo his button and he groaned.
Your fingers were cold as they snaked inside the fabric of his boxers, Patrick gasped and pulled away from the kiss. āFuck, you going to jerk me off? Not sure if your tiny hand is going to handle my big cock.ā He said, a tone filled with cockiness.
You didnāt reply as your fingers found him, hard, tall and proud. You scratched your nails against the bush at the base of his hardness, before grabbing him.
His hips thrusted forward as a reflex; but you didnāt move. Your eyes lifted up to look at him and at that moment, the dominance shifted back to you. It didnāt matter that he had eaten you out a few seconds ago, or that you imagined his fat cock inside your pussy, pounding you for hours.
No, what mattered was the fact that you could play with him if you wanted to. Like he knew it was going to happen and still let it.
āWant me to move my hand, loser? Want me to jerk you off?ā You asked him and he smirked, not backing down from whatever you were doing now. Like it was actually making him harder ā because you felt his cock pulsating inside your hand. He was warm.
āAre you going to be nice or does the stinky loser that I am have to beg? Don't be a bitch now.ā He replied.
You could tell him to beg, to whine for you and get on his knees. You could leave him in the bathroom all alone while finding someone else to fuck you. Because Patrick Zweig didnāt matter; his cock did. And fuck, you wanted it.
So the bathroom fell silent and you moved your hand around his cock; slowly and torturously sweet. Patrick maybe expected something else; since he gasped and his face fell into your neck. You could feel his warm breath on your skin as you explored every millimeter of his cock ā the veins all along, the sticky tip, the bushy base. It was heavy in your hand, and only waited to be played with.
Your hand moved; raw, but Patrick didnāt seem to care. His hips thrusted along every movement of your hand, pathetic and needy and he whined into your neck.
You almost wanted to call him out on it, telling him how much of a loser he was at that moment but you decided to give him the pleasure of shutting up. After all, you werenāt going to let him cum either ā and he probably knew that.
But Patrick was the one to decide he had gotten enough as he pulled away, your hand leaving the warmth of his boxers. āFuck, okay ā canāt wait anymore. Need to be inside you.ā He spoke before his hands grabbed your hips and turned you around, front against the bathroom door.
You gasped but bit on your lips, the anticipation was too good to care about how heād fuck you.Ā
Behind you, Patrick was struggling with the condom, cursing and hands shaking with how aroused he was. The lack of actions made you roll your eyes, turning your head to look past your shoulder. āWhat are you fucking doing? You need a degree to put a condom on, loser?ā
The words made him chuckle, before he looked up. āMātoo excited to fuck the Regina George wannabe of campus.ā
Your lips parted to curse at him again but instead, you gasped at the feeling of his latex-covered tip pushing inside your hole; the burning sensation and the stretching made you clench immediately; which made Patrick curse in your nape. āFuck, justā¦ gonna cum if you do this.ā
His own words made him chuckle and you relaxed your muscles. His length pushed deeper inside you, and your hands ā palms flat ā moved to the door to keep yourself standing. Soon enough, he was buried to the base.
āYou sure you aināt a virgin? You're tight as hell.ā Patrick whispered into your ear, the mocking tone of his voice made you sneer at him. How dare he mock you? Him? āI fucked more people in my life than youāll ever do in yours, fucker.ā You replied, thrusting your hips backwards to hit his, making him moan at the feeling of your pussy envelopping his cock.
āOuch, meanie.ā He replied, hands moving to hold your waist so you wouldnāt move and you shifted your feet to open your legs wider. Patrick took this as an invitation to move, so he did. The first thrust made you gasp, face against the bathroom door so he wouldnāt see how good he made you feel. You wouldnāt give him the satisfaction.Ā
After that, he kept moving; slowly and torturous, to see which pace made you feel good ā or probably he only cared about his pleasure, you didnāt know.
But his cock rubbed your gummy walls the perfect way, he even angled his hips to search for that special spot inside your pussy that would make you see stars.Ā
However, when you thought heād only fuck you with that half-assed slow pace, Patrickās hips started to build a faster speed. His cock slipped in and out of your wetness in a loud pop that competed against the loud music of the party and made you bite down on your lips to not moan out.
āFuck, Zweigā¦ā Were the only words that escaped your lips and that was probably enough for him as he speeded even more.
His hands lowered to your bare hips to grab them strongly, his fingers digging into the fat there; and he pulled at them with every thrust. His cock buried itself inside your warm pussy like it belonged there. Patrick groaned, āFuck, thatās probably the best pussy Iāve ever hadā¦ā
And for once, you didnāt have a remark to bite back at him, and simply moaned. His hips slapped against your ass, creating skin to skin noises.Ā
You couldnāt help yourself but thrust back against him, his tip hitting deeper each time you did ā letting moans and whines escape your mouth. One of your hands snaked between your body and the bathroom door just for your fingers to circle your sensitive clit.
Patrickās face leaned into your nap and his warm breath hit your skin as he kissed it. You groaned at the feeling, your fingers sliding against your wet buddle of nerves. āFaster, fuck.ā You begged.
You thought Patrick would perhaps mock you for the tone of your voice, slow down but he did none, his hips simply started slamming against yours as he groaned. āFuck, you want my cock that bad? Wanna cum on it? You're such a whore.ā He teased, hands pulling on your hips to use your body as his toy.
He angled himself to slam deeper inside you, finding that gummy spot as he did so. You gasped loudly, your legs trembling as he kept assaulting that location; and you imagined the smug look on his stupid face.Ā Your nipples brushed against the bathroom door, rendering them more sensitive.
Your free hand moved behind to grab his bicep to support yourself up as he kept slamming his fat cock inside your pussy. You moaned loudly, sure that no one would hear you over the music outside of the piece; your eyebrows long furrowed to the pleasure you felt coursing through your body.
Patrickās hands moved from your hips to set on your shoulders as he pounded your g-spot without any shame. āSweet fucking pussy, Iāve been jerking off thinking about your hole for weeks.ā He grunted into your ear as your fingers swiped onto your clit.
You felt a coil tightening inside your lower belly and moaned, the noise more throaty than the ones that had escaped your mouth before. āMāgonna cum, Patrick! Fuck, donāt stop!ā Your fingers started to rub faster onto your clit, your legs shaking as Patrickās tip hit that gummy spot at the entrance of your hole again.
His hands moved to your ass cheeks to spread them wide, making himself able to hit deeper inside your pussy.
Your walls clenched around his hardness as your orgasm hit you, your eyes rolling up to the ceiling; the hand grabbing his bicep tightening its grip so you wouldnāt fall against the door. You were unable to speak for a second, white sparkles hitting your eyes with the force of the pleasure.
Patrick grunted at the warmth and tightening of you clenching onto his cock, his hips still thrusting forward as he reached his own orgasm with a loud moan against the skin of your nap.
āFuckā fuck, mācoming, babeā¦ā He buried himself deep inside your pussy as he came, his load filling the condom and for a second you surprised yourself thinking you would have liked him to fill you up. You grimaced at the petname but decided to keep it shut as a thank you for the nice fuck.
Labored breathing could be heard on the inside of the bathroom as you both seemed to realize what had happened. Patrick chuckled and you turned your head over your shoulder to glare at him, squirming so heād pull out of your pussy.
āWhat are you laughing about, fucker?ā You cursed as you felt the pop of his cock leaving your warmth, immediately feeling empty. Patrick shrugged as he took the full-semen condom off of his cock, tying it up and throwing it in the bin while you pushed your bra and top down on your chest again.
āJust remembered your words when you first met me. Something like Iāll never let you touch me, not even with a baton. And now you let me fuck that sweet pussy. I guess my cock does make you stupid, uh?ā
You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes without replying; how would you say anything when he was kinda right? You bent over to pull your panties and uniform skirt up when a piece of tissue appeared in your vision.
āHere, you can clean yourself up.ā You heard Patrick and tore the kleenex out of his hand to clean the inside of your thighs and your core before covering yourself in your clothes again.
āThat was a mistake on my part, I got weak, thatās it. Donāt imagine anything, Zweig.ā You scoffed at him, trying to maintain a reputation. You moved to face the mirror and smacked your lips together, acting like the lipgloss was still there.
You brushed your hair away from your shoulder, looking at him up and down before turning your back to him. āNice, wellā¦ If your mistake could ride my cock next time, Iād love that.ā He replied as you walked out of the bathroom, turning your head to grimace at him.Ā
āShut the fuck up, you loser. Go back to the party no one invited you to.ā You heard him laugh at those words before he talked again. āYou wanna go on a date or something?ā Your eyebrows furrowed; and you scoffed, flipping him off before starting to walk away from the crime scene that was now the bathroom.
āAsk me again in ten years, loser!ā And when you were far away enough, the reply was shouted at you.
Shut the fuck up ur actually so lucky I cannot wrap my head around actually being able to see him in person thatās so crazy congratulations babe
I was like stressing lowkey idk why but heās so sweet and beautiful and tall and ahhhhhhhhhhh. and rebuilding was a great movie, everyone should go see it
Werewolf | Breeding Kink. Art Donaldson/Patrick Zweig.
Phases
Summary: Patrick turns into a werewolf, and no, his best friend absolutely does not think its hot.
CW: 18+ mdni, unprotected anal sex, breeding kink, rutting, hint of knotting (sorry), soulmates and heat, a made up story about werewolf lore
Its been a while since that fateful night. The night of the party they were never supposed to be at but they snuck in anyway. It was a frat party, Artās big sister is in a sorority and her local friends were throwing a party over summer break.Ā
Patrickā all Art's bad ideas start with Patrickā convinced him to crash. Too young to drink but they tried the punch anyway and danced with hot college girls. It was fun at first.Ā At least until Artās sister caught them. Then it was the half tipsy walk home at midnight. They took a shortcut theyāve taken a million times, through an abandoned construction site, near the New England woods not far from Artās home. The crisp night breeze of early summer suddenly felt colder, a little more sinister. Thatās when it happened. Patrick giggling and trailing behind more drunk than tipsy, theyād been separated for barely a moment when Art heard the scream. A sound thatĀ still lingers in his mind to this day, even just the memory makes his blood run cold. Heād never been more terrified than he was when he doubled back to find Patrick on the ground, bleeding.Ā
Ever since that night itās been a bit of a whirlwind dealing with Patrick's new affliction. From that first night trying to figure out what bit him and what it meant. Patrick fell asleep that night in Artās bed, fever flushed, body so warm the sheets clung to his skin. So warm Art couldnāt sleep, he was so panicked that Patrick would die. He pushed to take Patrick to the hospital more than once, but he refused. Patrick was so warm Art got up every few hours to get ice from the kitchen to help cool him down. So warm Art had to pull his own t-shirt off, both of them bare chested and sweaty in the dark. Art so afraid something was really wrong, while also praying that they could hide all this from his parents in the morning. Art had been there in the morning, when the bite had mostly healed but Patrick was forever changed.
They left New England the same week and went back to Florida for the rest of the summer to participate in a tennis camp intensive. Sharing a room like always, Artās been there every step of the way. He was there when Patrick realized he could hear Artās heartbeat, that he could still hear it when he was in the room down the hall. That he could count Artās breaths even through the wall. That he could smell him. Whatever that fucking meant.Ā
He was there when Patrickās diet changed, and suddenly he wanted meat with every meal. Meat that was barely cooked, much more rare and bloody. And not to mention, Patrickās tennis skills improved 10 fold. Suddenly he was not only anticipating the ball, but slamming it down harder, faster. They were already unbeatable as a doubles team, now itās just considered cruel the way no one else even stands a chance.
The whole time Patrick is (unfairly) getting even better looking, lean muscle becoming more solid and firm. Shirtless all day around their shared bedroom, heās hairier. He needs to shave twice a day now, in the morning and at night, if not a little stubble lines his cheeks. Stubble that lots of girls think is hot. Art thinks itās whatever.Ā
Art was there when Patrickās night vision kicked in. āItās clear as day right now. I donāt even need that flashlight.āĀ
āReally? How many fingers am I holding up?ā Art asks, holding up fingers he canāt even see himself on this moonless night.Ā
āThree,ā Patrick says.Ā
āWhoa,ā Art murmurs. āwhat about now?āĀ
āShut up,ā Patrick smirks. Smacking Artās middle finger down. āCome on, I wanna find a safe place to turn.āĀ Ā Ā Ā
That seems to be the only thing about all this whole situation that really, truly scares Patrick. At least from what Art can tel heās enjoying everything elsel. All of Artās free time is spent looking up lycanthropy now, and tonight isnāt an exception. Stretched out in Patrickās twin, feet up on the wall decoding some book published in the nineteenth century that he checked out from the public library.Ā
āI donāt want to hurt anyone. You have to lock me up. You have to lock me up and keep everyone away. Including yourself.ā Patrick says for the millionth time as the full moon approaches.Ā
āI know Patrick.ā
The day of his first full moonā¦ they plan everything out. Putting Patrick in restraints in an old abandoned pool no one uses outside of the occasional skateboarders whoāve turned it into a makeshift skate park in the day time. Patrick keeps waffling about whether or not he wants Art to keep watch, whether or not he wants him anywhere near him. But Art doesnāt give him the choice. Heās gonna be there whether Patrick wants him to or not. The restraints are heavy duty, metal handcuffs and thick heavy ropes. Theyāve tested it out once. Strapping Patrick to the handrail thatās welded into the concrete floor of the abandoned pool. Only Art has the key to the handcuffs and he wears it on a chain around his neck.Ā
āArt I think itās happening,ā Patrick breathes. Art looks up from the glow of his cellphone. With the moon just beginning to rise, itās almost as clear as day but Art shines his flashlight on Patrick anyway.Ā Patrickās eyes turning a more vivid shade of blue, the flecks of gold catching the moonlight making them glow is the first sign of transition. Then he gets hairy, dark curls lengthening, his sideburns grow thick, his face takes on more wolf-like features, his nose widening, flattening into a puppy snout which is oddly adorable. The fangs are the most fascinating part, descending razor sharp as Patrick bares his teeth, shiny and pearly white. His nails lengthen into razor sharp claws while the hair on his arms and legs thickens and his muscles bulge thicker. The white t-shirt heās in, suddenly tight to his body. He doesnāt turn into a full wolf. No, itās clear heās a hybrid human. But the animalistic side is definitely running the show.Ā
Art watches the whole thing. He should be horrified. He should be wetting himself with nerves. Between him and Patrick heās the scaredy cat. He still has nightmares from the time Patrick let him watch Childās Play when they were 12 years old. But for some reason heās not afraid of this. Not even a little bit.Ā Oddly enough his stomach hurts in a familiar way. The same way it felt when he lay in bed listening to Patrick touch himself for the first time. Too clueless to understand why his skin was tingling or why his mouth felt too wet.Ā
Patrick is growling, panting, eyes glowing, muscles straining as he fights the restraints and Art refuses to look down at the bulge growing in his own shorts. Holy fuck. He canāt be attracted to this. No. That makes no fucking sense. Heās come to terms with the idea that he does find Patrick attractive and he can ignore that but thisā¦ godā¦ thereās something wrong with him. His best friend has just turned into some kind of impossible superhuman monster and somehow Art is still the real freak.Ā
He keeps his distance.Ā
Patrick is fighting the restraints. āArtā¦? Art.ā Patrick growls his name. Voice soft and a little deeper than his usual lilt. Art shivers, he likes the added bass. āLemme go. Artieā¦come on lemme go.āĀ
āYou told me to keep you like this untilā¦āĀ
āI know who turned me. I feel him in me. Come on lemme go.āĀ
āPatrick.āĀ
Patrick growls. Fighting the restraints as they dig into his wrists.Ā
āPatrick stop,ā Art says. He doesnāt want Patrick to hurt himself but Patrick doesnāt stop. They had the brilliant idea that maybe Patrick would feel good in wolf mode if he had something to eat. Art goes to the grocery bags and pulls out the fresh 20 dollar steaks they bought from the grocery store. āHey Patrick just relax okay.ā He takes one of the steaks, getting as close as he can without being within biting distance. Patrick bares his fangs, a warning, saliva dripping from them. Art canāt believe heās considering putting this into his rotation of things to get off to. āHereā¦ā he tosses the steak the rest of the way. āCome on, eatā¦ itāll help.āĀ
Patrick glares at the steak and then at Art. Then he takes it between his teeth and pulls it close to eat it up raw. Artās heart pulses loudly in his ears. His logical mind repeating the mantra: This shouldnāt be hot. This shouldnāt be hot.Ā
Wolf Patrick is a little calmer after eating but Art is still concerned for all the bruising and the way the handcuffs bite into his wrists as he fights to get free. Regardless of what he does, the restraints hold. āIām sorryā¦ you told me not to let you go. No matter what you say,ā Art says.Ā
āAnd I was wrong. Please. I wonāt kill you. I wonāt get that pretty neck between my teeth and tear out your gorgeous throat. I promise. I promise. Please Art. Let me fucking go.ā The last words are a harsh growl.Ā
Art shivers again. Did wolf Patrick just call him gorgeous? Jesus Christ, he needs help. Heās up on the pool edge, he lays down on the tiled patio and closes his eyes so he can take his mind off of what Patrick is doing to his arms. So he can take his mind off of what the sight of Patrick like this is doing to his cock. It doesn't help anything listening to him panting, and growling. Soon Art is edging from the sounds alone.Ā
āYou know I can smell you right,ā Wolf Patrick grunts. That raises goosebumps on Artās arms. āI can smell it all over you. Youāre aroused.ā
Art bites his lip. āThatās notā¦ it has nothing to do withā¦uh with you,ā no heās not making excuses to a werewolf. He changes the subject. āUh okay lookā¦why donāt you justā¦ tell me what you know about your maker?āĀ
Patrick growls again and goes back to pulling at the restraints. The clank of the metal on metal going loudly for hours. It reminds Art of his pet hamster from middle school that used to pointlessly bite at the bars of its cage all night. Art lies on his stomach trying not to think dirty thoughts. He can only hope that what wolf Patrick knows about his arousal wonāt be transferred into real Patrickās brain.Ā
When daylight comes and Patrick goes back to himself, Art removes the restraints. Patrickās arms are a mess, skin rubbed raw. Art touches it gently and Patrick flinches. āWe need to get you some kind of salve,ā Art says softly then he hesitantly meets Patrickās jewel eyed gaze. āDo you uhā do you remember any of that?āĀ
Patrick squeezes his eyes shut and groans, nonchalant, āa littleā¦ not reallyā¦ Iām real fucking hungry though.āĀ
They stop at McDonalds and he orders two Quarter Poundersā¦ disappointed because the meat is too processed he still inhales them.Ā When they get home Art goes into the bathroom and takes hold of his dick immediately, jerking himself raw as he actively does not fantasize about the monster in Patrick. Or the rippling muscles in wolf Patrickās biceps, and thighs. Or those lethal pearly white fangs. He cleans up in the shower. Touches himself one more time for good measure under the faucet and then gets out.Ā
Patriick is watching him when he re-enters the bedroom. Curious expression on his face. āUhā¦ all yours,ā he tells Patrick awkwardly. Art canāt help but notice any bruising Patrick had from the restraints has already disappeared. Itās fine.
The next days of the full moon go smoothly, the restraints never break, Patrick generally heals from any harm he does to himself and he doesnāt really remember what happens while heās wolfing out.Ā It becomes their monthly routine.Ā Sneaking out of their dorm and spending the night at the empty pool/skate park while theyāre at the academy, training all summer. Art brings reading books, sometimes heād bring his gameboy,Ā sometimes he just lies down under the stars with only his phone and tetris as entertainment. He watches over the werewolf Patrick. Keeping him safe and fed, raw steak meat and attempting to keep him calm so he doesnāt fight as much. Not that it matters. The restraints will hold and Patrick will be fine. Maybe Art just wants to keep him company. Maybe he likes spending the night aroused by the animalistic nature of the werewolf in Patrick like a real fucking weirdo. Art has made masturbating in the morning a part of his routine too... but of course he keeps that little part to himself.Ā Ā
Patrickās wolf self starts to get used to Art too. Even if heās still not trustworthy. Heās not as mean. In fact he gets to beā¦ a lot. āCome on blondie. I wonāt bite. Why donāt you come over here? I know you want it.ā
āIām not doing that Patrick.āĀ
āYou know mine is hard too, right? You want to see it?ā
Art looks up from his phone.Ā
Patrickās wolf almost purrs when their eyes meet which makes Art squirm just a little more. āTake me out of these and Iāll show it to you. Itās bigger you knowā¦ thicker than normal. Come hereā¦ Art. Come on. I wanna show you. Wanna let you touch it.ā
Art closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath as the wolf Patrick chuckles lowly.Ā
One night the wolf changes tact, instead of fighting the restraints he starts panting, grunting while pawing at the bulge of his cock along his thigh. Art canāt stop staring. His mouth falling open. Wolf Patrick smiles, or maybe heās just showing his teeth. It doesnāt matter. Art is attracted to the danger of those pearly white fangs glistening in the moonlight. āI know you want to feel it Artie. Come closer and Iāll let you touch it. Come closer and Iāll fuck you doggy style.ā
Art chews on his thumb. Thatās probably the worst bit of temptation heās felt. For a moment heās terrified wolf Patrick will start masturbating in front of him. He thinks heāll go insane if he sees that. He doesnāt though. And as always when heās transitioned back, real Patrick doesnāt say anything. Art just prays that real Patrick and the wolf are really as separate as he imagines them to be and that Patrick doesnāt remember the things he and Art discuss when heās all wolfed out.Ā
Itās fall break which means going home to New England for a week. Thereās no upcoming full moon thankfully, so they donāt have to worry about finding a place at home to restrain Patrick because Patrick insists on coming back to Connecticut with Art.
āI want to find my maker.ā Patrick says. āI want to make sure heās not hurting anyone else. Besides, I think trick or treating together this year might be kinda fun.ā
āWeāre too old to trick or treat, dude,ā Art says.Ā
āOh come on, what are they gonna do? Ask for our IDs and then deny us candy.āĀ Ā
Itās not surprising at all when Artās parents mention theyāll be away traveling all throughout his trip home. Itās campaign season after all. As if either of them will lose their seats as the standing Democratic representatives but whatever.Ā
Artās sisters are still away at college. That means Art and Patrick will have the place to themselves. They stay up too late on Halloween eve, they eat too much junk food, order a meat lovers pizza from dominos and bake pillsbury sugar cookies with Halloween designs. Patrick forces Art to watch scary movies. āCome on, youāre with a werewolf, these movies canāt hurt you now.ā
āYeah only you can.ā Art snorts. Theyāre inches away from each other even though theyāre on the massive sofa all alone and even though Patrick isnāt wolfed out, itās not like thatās the only time Art finds him hot. If anything the feelings have only intensified.Ā Ā
āYou know I would never hurt you,ā Patrick grins at Art. Art swears even when Patrickās fangs arenāt descended his grin has still turned a little wolffish. Itās one of the hottest things about the change, watching the fangs descend. Art shifts in his seat not sure why he feels the urge to ask Patrick to bite him. He doesn't of course. Because thatās weird. Though Patrick does start sniffing him. Which isā¦ also weird.Ā
āWhatās it feel like? When youā when youāre changing?ā Art asks. āCan you remember any of it?ā
āSome of it. Uhā¦ itās overwhelming. My instincts feel more powerful than my thoughts, like hunger, the desire to hunt, the desire toā¦.ā he trails off and pauses for a moment before continuing. āItās like when you act without thinking but in overdrive,ā he laughs.Ā āI keep thinking one night youāre gonna tell me I howled at the moon.āĀ
Art grins. āNoā¦ no you donāt do that.āĀ
āWhat do I do?ā Patrick rubs his nose against Artās shirt and sniffs there. Itās really distracting, having him this close, doing whatever heās doing.Ā
āYou uhā¦ you just growl a lot. And try to convince me to set you free. Uhā¦ like I told you. Umā¦ why are you smelling me?āĀ
Patrick laughs. āOh shitā¦ I donāt know. I didnāt even realize. Are you using a new shampoo or something?āĀ Ā
āNopeā¦ just my regular shampoo.āĀ
āSmells good.ā Patrick takes another big inhale. āYou smell good.āĀ
Art can feel heat radiating from him. Patrick runs even hotter now but this is making Art sweat in his usually chilly home. āDude are you okay?āĀ
āYeah, why?āĀ
Art turns to look at him properly. He sits back and Patrick scoots closer, closing the distance back up. Art shakes his head and puts a hand on Patrickās forehead. āYouāre burning up like when you got turned. Dude, are you sure youāre okay?āĀ
āYeah? I feel fine. Shit. I feel really good.ā He pulls Art closer, his eyes catch the light the way they do when he starts to change and Art panics. āYou remember how we used to jerk each other off?ā Patrick leans in and starts mouthing at Artās throat. āāM so fucking hard right now,ā he grunts.Ā
āPatrick,ā Art pushes him off. His eyes are normal again but heās panting and Art chews the inside of his cheek, all his studying of lycanthropy and he doesnāt get whatās happening here, he just knows Patrick isnāt himself.Ā Ā
āWhat?ā Patrick demands, hands on Art again.Ā
āNothingā¦ justā¦ are you wolfing out or something?āĀ
āMm I donāt think soā¦ I meanā¦ fuckā¦ Art, you know what frustrates me? What really drives me crazy?āĀ
āWhat?ā Art swallows on something thick. His skin burning up just from the proximity.Ā
āYou. Youā¦ I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell how turned on you areāhow fucking hard you are all the time. Especially after we get home on the full moon and you touch yourself. It drives me fucking crazy.ā
Art looks away, shame welling up. āPatrick IāāĀ Ā
āIt takes everything in me not toā¦ oh god look at youāā he laughs, āFuckā¦I donāt know why Iām saying this now. I can usually control itā¦ maybe something is wrongā¦ā he groans. Hands on Artās thighs, on his hips, trailing up his waist to lift at his t-shirt.Ā
āPatrick, itās not a full moon for another weekā¦ whatās happening? Do we need to tie you up?ā Artās voice is foreign to his ears. Why is he so pitchy?Ā
āNoā¦ but I wannaā¦ Art I really wannaā¦āĀ heās pushing Art onto his back, kissing him on the mouth as he does it. It doesnāt feel possible. It feels very much impossible. The way theyāve danced around it. Lingering touches, withering glances, sitting, standing, talking too close but never crossing that line. Art opens his mouth and feels Patrick press his tongue inside, deepening the kiss, only pulling back to get Artās shirt off. To tear his own shirt off like its nothing. Art is hard already. Whatās difficult is not knowing whatās happeningā¦ if Patrick is wolf Patrick or justā¦ his Patrick. Or if it even matters.Ā
āNeed toā¦ need to be in you.ā Patrick grunts.Ā
āI uhā¦ Iā¦ my parents have lube in theirā¦ in theirā¦āĀ
āGet it,ā Patrick growls and Art scrambles out from under Patrick to get to his feetĀ Ā
He goes upstairs and digs through his parentsā nightstand. It feels so fucking inappropriate. And god what if they realize some is missing the next time theyā¦ no heās absolutely not thinking about that.Ā It feels even more insane when the door shuts behind him. Patrick followed him.Ā
āDude I got it letāsā we canātāā
āGood,ā Patrick says, crowding him up against the nightstand, kissing him roughly as he grabs the lube out of Artās hand.Ā Art lands so hard against the nightstand that the lamp almost falls to the floor and shatters. Art grabs onto it, breathless as he steadies it again. The whole time Patrick is kissing on his throat and bare shoulder as if none of it is important. Art can see him undoing his jeans.Ā
āNeed you so bad.ā Patrick takes a deep inhale of him. Rough hands on his waist he lifts Art onto the king sized bed like he weighs nothing. Which is actually reallyā¦ insanely fucking hot and Art draws his knees up as Patrick crawls between his thighs. Patrick wastes no time dragging his own boxers down and letting his cock bob out. He starts lubing up. Artās heart is racing as he shimmies out of the rest of his clothing. All the blood in his body pumping into his cock. Patrickās eyes catch the light for just a moment as he grabs roughly at Artās thighs. āFucking mine.ā he growls.Ā
Art should be better than this. More well behaved. Heās not even supposed to come into his parents bedroom, let alone let his friends in here but heās helpless as Patrick enters him. Heās only done it with a boy once before. Sex with a guy from the team. Just to try it. He never even told Patrick about it till now which doesnāt seem to do anything but make him angry and possessive. And now here Patrick isā¦rutting into his prostate, because thatās what it feels like. It feels like heās pounding into him impatient, possessive, hungryā¦and Artās not sure at what point that he loses all sense of time and place butĀ his thighs are trembling so much Patrick has to hold them up, and heās drooling on himself, going cross eyed and itās the best sex heās had everā¦ with anyone. Heās so close when Patrick starts rubbing his tummy. āThatās rightā¦ nnghā¦fuck, mm gonna come inside till your full, sweetheart. Wanna breed you. Make your tummy swell for me.āĀ
āAhhāahā holy shit what are youā what do you mean?āĀ
āCome onā¦ you can take my load. Itās what you wanted isnāt it? Ah you get so horny whenever I turnā¦ you get so fuckingā¦gah fuckā¦āĀ Patrick groans, his voice deep, wolf like.Ā
Art can feel it, the loadā¦ swelling up inside him. An insane sensation. He loses it then, coming, clenching as Patrick swells deep inside him. Art is slowly coming back to himself and Patrick is still filling him, kissing him through it till he gets hard again. Biting, nibbling, claiming him, while they fuck with barely any rest time between. Like the wolf in Patrick has no refractory period. Like he needs to fill him with as much cum as possible. Overstimulating Artās prostate, whispering filthy words about breeding him. All night in his parents bed till theyāre sweaty and sticky and sore and Art thinks heāll feel it for days.Ā
He doesnāt remember falling asleep but he wakes up aching in places he didnāt know he could ache. Heās got Patrickās marks on his skin, scratches and bites and the imprint of his fingers but heās still alive. Stillā¦ human. He nudges Patrick awake and he groans and rolls over. āOhā¦ it was real,ā he smiles. And then settles back onto his pillow. āFuckā¦ I donāt know what the fuck just happened to me.āĀ
āHappened to you? So it was the wolf?āĀ
āNoā¦ I meanā¦ yesā¦ I meanā¦ I donāt know, Art. I justā¦ I remember it allā¦ not just bits and pieces.ā
āYou normally remember bits and pieces?āĀ
Patrick grins. āI didnāt need to be wolfed out to know you wanted to fuck me, you pervert. Relax.āĀ Ā
Artās skin suddenly heats up. āWhatever. You just tried to breed me so fuck you, pervert.ā He mumbles. āAnd get up we have to get all this stuff to the cleaners. My parents will be more dangerous to you than any hunters or your maker if they find out what the fuck we just did in here.āĀ Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā
Patrick groans and forces himself to get up. They clean themselves up and run the errand of getting his parents ornate comforter to the cleaners. Itās Halloween and his wealthy little Connecticut suburb of Beaconās Hallow is all decorated. Even the little shops have Halloween decor. Theyāre leaving the cleaners when Patrick grabs his arm. āMy maker. I smell him.āĀ
Artās heart rate picks up. āSeriously?āĀ
āYesā¦ heās nearby.āĀ
It doesnāt take long to find him. Patrick sniffs him out and Art thinks heās made a mistake. Heās just some guy. Short dark hair, strong jawline and pale blue eyes. Probably not much older than they areā¦ early 20s or something working at a video store. āHey Iām Jason.ā He knows right away what Patrick is there for and gestures that they come in the back.Ā
āYeah uhā¦ Iām sorry.ā He says weakly.Ā
āSorry?ā Patrick squints. āReally?ā
Apparently lycanthropy runs in his family. Heās a pure blood and turned on his 21st birthday. āI didnāt take it as seriously as I should haveā¦ didnāt take the proper precautions and ended up losing control on night one and you were the unfortunate victim of that.ā
Through him they learn what the proper precautions are. Apparently itās having a meal rich in iodine or drinking several glasses of salt water but it has to be at a specific time of the month. Itās apparently one of the ways to keep your mind human while you wolf out. āWorks nearly all the time except last night whenā¦ well actually that probably wonāt apply to you so you donāt have to worry.ā
āWhat? What about last night wonāt apply to me?ā Patrick asks.Ā
āBlood moonā¦ mating moon. But it only affects alphas so you should be good. Alphas are the only ones who can turn people too.ā He settles back on his office chair. āIt was actually when I turned you that I realized I was an alpha. Itās really rare. Normally if one of us gets out of control and accidentally bites itāsā¦ you knowā¦ just blamed on an animal attack butā¦an alpha turns people. Sorry again.ā
Patrick and Art look at each other. Jason continues, āBlood moon is crazy. I was horny as fuck but luckily it wasnāt also a full moon. That drives you up the walls needing to breed your soulmate and it fucking sucks if you donāt have one. I donāt yetā¦ but I got this fleshlight that feels just like aāā
āWait can you uhā¦ can you back up to the part about soulmates?ā Patrick says, scratching his head. His cheeks going a shade of pale pink.Ā Ā
āWell wolves mate for lifeā¦ real wolves. Werewolves arenāt much different. We imprint on our soulmates. Sense themā¦ feel them in a wayā¦ whether itās touch or taste or smell or all of it. This is only the alpha though. Betas, omegas and lone wolves donāt have to worry about that, they justā¦ you know do the whole dating thing like normal. You knowā¦as normal as you can with the Iām also a werewolf reveal. But for alphas we usually have one, probably max two, mates in a lifetime, a soulmate, and we mate for life.āĀ
Art feels his stomach flutter. His mind is going crazy. Patrick is his best friend and one of his favorite people to be around but soulmates? God doing what they did last night forā¦ for lifeā¦ he probably needs to sit down but heās still so sore and the only bench in the office looks really hard.Ā
āSo ifā¦ wellā¦ do betas feel the impact of the blood moon?ā Patrick asks, he looks just as panicked and embarrassed as Art feels.Ā
āNoā¦ I meanā¦ outside of feeling a little amorous probably. Are youāā he glances at Art for the first time. His eyes land on a pretty inflamed looking hickey on Artās be collar bone. Art pulls his shirt over it feeling his own skin prickle with warmth. Jason turns back to Patrick. āYouāre an alpha arenāt you?ā
āI donāt fucking know. Youāre just telling me all this shit now Jason Werewolf or whoever the fuck you are. Iām not a fucking expert on what I am. I never even paid attention to the cycles of the moon before this. Do you have any other tips for just being a werewolfĀ in general?ā
āIām Jason McCall. Not Jason Werewolf,ā Jason says dryly.Ā
āSure whatever. Just tell me what other weird shit I have to expect please? Am I never gonna be able to fuck another person again?ā
āI meanā¦ you donātā¦ you don't have to be exclusive. But youāre gonna feelā¦ I donāt know a sense of possessiveness over themā¦. And on the blood moon if theyāre nearby youāre gonna want your mate. Itāll feel overpowering. Itās just how it is. And theyāll want you too. Itās the uhā¦ the pheromones. Guess I shoulda realized that because your scent is all over him soā¦.ā
Art distantly feels aroused at the idea of Patrick covering him in his scentā¦ and a little relieved that heās not crazy for desiring Patrick to the point that his mind shut off. Itās not all his fault. That being said, this is still insane.Ā
āHeās myā¦ you keep saying mateā¦ that doesnāt mean heās gonna likeā¦ have a litter of werewolves or something? Does it?ā And damn if Patrick doesnāt sound hopeful.Ā
āDude,ā Art glares at him, he doesnāt think itās possible to be more embarrassed about this guy knowing more or less what happened last night but now Patrick asking if heās capable of impregnating Art is just next level mortifying. He knows heās never going to hear the end of it with Patrick. Soulmates this. Soulmates that. Hell he probably wonāt even be able to date without Patrick barging in and ruining it.
āNo uhā¦ youāre not gonna change his biology. Just as an alpha wolf youāre uh following your instinctsā¦ so to speak. Here lookā¦ I'll give you my phone number. Or youāre welcome in the store anytimeā¦ justā¦ I can keep you posted on tips and tricks my family has toā¦ you know exist as a werewolf in the modern world.ā
āRightā¦ thanks.ā Patrick takes the number and runs his free hand awkwardly through his thick black curls. āSo uh one more thingā¦thereās noā¦ van helsing coming to get me, is there?ā
āWell there are generations of huntersā¦ but they only get wind of things when thereās a spread of new werewolves who donāt know what theyāre doing and theyāre causing chaos. Our family has learned to handle it so we have a uhā¦ truceā¦ which I technically broke because of you but now you can learn and uhā¦ yeah youāll be fine.ā
Patrick accepts that. They go back to the dry cleaners and, thankfully get his parents comforter back, good asĀ new. They take their time reorganising the bedroom. āWe can never do that again.ā Art says.Ā
āYeah tonights harvest moon weāll just fuck in your bed.ā
Art narrows his eyes.Ā
āWhat? You heard him, soulmate. Iām gonna need to fuck you. Imagine that on a full moon.ā Patrick smirks, playfully nipping at the hickey on Arts collarbone. Art shoves him away, rolling his eyes and smiling in spite of himself.Ā
āWe can go trick or treating first. I think I'll need candy to keep my energy up.ā Patrick says.
āYou were serious about that?ā
āOf course.ā
It goes as smoothly as it canā¦Patrick dressed like Michael Jackson from that Thriller music video. Art dressed like Captain Americaā¦ his costume from last year that still fits. Of course Patrick drags him home early once the moon rises and maybe its the pheromones or maybe Art really is just a little bit of a freak at heart but the whole finding your soulmate in high school doesnāt really seem all that bad. Even if heās a heā¦and his best friendā¦ and a werewolf. Art can work with that.
