꘩ 𝓟atrick 𝓕eely in — 𝓖𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝓕𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 ࿐ ⟡ ݁
𝓦arnings : smut , oral , cursing , pet names , f in v .
“so? how was it?” your friend, stacy asked. she was all up in your personal space by your locker, all giddy since you and patrick feely had the first sleepover last night. you’d been going out with him for 4 months now.
“i didn’t say we did anything, stace.” you say, although you can’t help but a smile.
“something happened. i know it did! come on, spill.” stacy says, grinning ear to ear. when you blushed and kept busy in your locker— stacy gasps, realizing something. “oh my god, he plays guitar, doesn’t he?” she laughs happily. “I bet it was good then.”
you roll your eyes playfully. “im kinda regretting telling you he came over. you are awfully interested in my sex life right now, stacy.” you tease, but nonetheless give in to your best friend. smiling, you discreetly add, “yeah, he’s good with the guitar.”
“so something did happen.” stacy smiles knowingly.
“pat,” you panted aganist his lips, breathless as his hands roamed your body, gently — but his need was clear by the way his fingertips gripped your hips.
patrick pulled himself up. his shirt had been taken off by you the second you two fell on your bed earlier. “don’t do this f’me, baby. make sure you want this.” he murmured softly before pressing a drugging kiss to your lips, to emphasize what the “this” was.
“i do want this. i want you, patrick.” you sighed aganist his lips, your nerves melting away at the reassurance he gave so effortlessly, you knew it was because he meant it. he always did.
your eyes drank in his physice, built on working on his familys’ farm and doing rugby. you reach out and run your fingers over his abs and chest, his muscles tighten under your touch. patrick fought a shiver at the warm touch. he sighs and slides his large under your ass, gripping your tommen skirts’ waistband from underneath you.
“don’t look at me like that unless you want me to do somethin’ about it.” his voice was deeper, raspier. he lifts up one of your legs and presses a kiss to your thigh and smirking against it when you shivered.
silently, he slides down to be between your legs, peppering the soft flesh of your thighs. he slides off your tommen skirt and tosses it on your rug floor. he kisses your most sensitive area through your panties, nuzzling against it. “jesus, baby. you’re soaked. you always been like this for me when im holdin’ myself back? all hot and bothered?”
“patrick . . . don’t tease,” you gasp as his nose and lips nuzzle you through your panties, too sensitive for his teasing. “i need . . .”
“what do you need, pretty baby? tell me.” he kisses your area again.
whimpering, “your mouth, patrick.”
“hm. that’s right.” he moves your panties to one side, too turned on and needy to even get up from his spot between you. he presses a kiss to you again. with that, he slowly drags his tongue on you.
as he worked his mouth on you, you cried out helplessly. your legs wrapped around his neck tightly and your hands fisted his hair. “patrick. . . baby . . . fuck! i- i mphm . .”
patrick lifts his head up and he kisses up your body, which only holds a bra now. he presses a kiss to your thigh, stomach, chest, neck and jaw. when he reaches your lips, he leans into the hands now gripping his back. he slips his tongue inside your mouth as one hand escapes your waist and slides to spread open one leg again, before you could process— two fingers slipped inside of you. full, rough and aching.
he restlessly pumped his fingers in and out of you, his face calm like he’s used to working his hands like this— which he was. but even with his calmed face, his eyes were dark and hooded as they drifted between his hand to focus and to you, and when he stared at you—studying you, you couldn’t help but notice the pink flushing on his cheeks.
“you’re close, aren’t ya, baby?” he whispers roughly, kissing your neck, the position caused his veins to flex in his wrist, which did nothing but fuel the fire inside of you as his hand moved in a perfect, effortless rhythm.
his fingers moved faster inside. slick, wet sounds between his hand and you. when he gets the approval by your arms around his shoulders and sweet moans in his ear, he kisses you and groaned against your mouth— “come for me, baby. let go on my hand, pretty girl.”
“patrick. . . god right there!” you cried, clinging to him, your freshly done nails digging into his back.
patrick groaned when your thighs trembled against his arm and hand. “fuckin’ hell. that’s it, baby.”
patrick slowly comes to a stop when he helped you ride out your high.
he slowly, so slowly, pulls out his fingers. he cups your waist and the forearm that was beside your head comes down and his hand cups your jaw. “you’re so beautiful, baby. so perfect. you did so good.” he kisses you deeply, as he does he pulls you against his chest. patrick sighed against your lips when your fingers find his hair, he pulls back, taking your in your flushed face. “my beautiful girl.”
“hello? can you even hear me? im waiting.” stacy says, snapping her fingers in your face.
you snap out of your zone-out, you had gotten too wrapped up in the heated memory of the night before. “sorry, what?” you replied, you could feel your cheeks burning.
“i asked how it was. and do not say nothing happened again.”
“well. . . the guitar payed off.” you admitted, once again flustered.
“guitar fingers?” stacy smirked.
disclaimer . . . this is my first ever finished piece of writing! so please be kind! ♡
— music banner credits to @suupersonic
likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡ ♡
