@hurtcember day five: anxiety, starving, freezing.
Girl With One Eye (Chapter Five)
Fandom: It
Ship: Vic Criss x Patrick Hockstetter
Warnings: Panic attacks, vaginal sex, unsafe sex, top Patrick, bottom Vic, panic attacks during sex.
Hurtcember Masterlist
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
One year prior
Vic wouldn’t call himself a touch-starved person. If anyone said it about him, he would’ve told them to fuck off. He wasn’t some pussy that was traumatized by not being hugged enough as a child. Though, he couldn’t deny that Patrick’s hands on him were comforting in a way. Of course, he would never tell him that. It would make him even more insufferable than he already was.
Patrick’s hands were cold where they pressed along his skin. They never seemed to warm, no matter how much of Vic’s body heat they soaked up. Vic shivered under his touch, his heart beginning to pound faster as hands slipped lower. He knew what would come next, although he wasn’t used to it just yet.
Spidery fingers curled around his thighs to spread them further, pushing them near to his chest. He felt exposed like this, despite the fact Patrick couldn’t see most of him. Somehow, his body seemed to grow colder. Patrick’s cock rubbed against him, getting him wetter. His own hands found Patrick’s shoulders, rubbing over his back just to have something to do with his hands.
Patrick groaned when he started to press inside, a gradual push forward until he was completely buried in him. It felt harder to breathe now, Patrick’s body too close and filling him too much. Vic shifted restlessly underneath him, his body adjusting to the stretch quickly enough. Patrick pulled out at a leisurely pace before forcing his way back into him.
Luckily, Patrick wasn’t overly thick. He made up for it in length, though. Often, Vic would feel sore deep inside of himself once they were done. A dull ache somewhere he couldn’t quite name, feeling it for days afterwards. He held tighter to Patrick, one hand digging into his hair. Patrick was the most normal when they were like this. He could almost pretend there was nothing wrong with Patrick in these moments.
Patrick was growing more rough with each thrust back inside, his cock sliding with ease. His cunt was wet, his palms beginning to sweat. The feeling wasn’t entirely pleasurable. In fact, it was leaning more towards being awful in a way he couldn’t explain. He’d never felt like this in bed with Patrick before, not to nearly the same degree. His chest was tight and he tried to ignore the mounting feeling inside of himself.
Patrick’s teeth sank into the meat of his throat, biting down carelessly. A moan pulled free from Vic’s chest, body spasming with the feelings that overwhelmed him from every direction. The stretch of Patrick’s cock that didn’t feel entirely good, but also didn’t feel entirely bad. The sting of Patrick’s teeth that grounded him, reminded him that he was here. It gave him something distinct to focus on.
Vic’s blunt nails dug into Patrick’s shoulders. Of course, Patrick didn’t respond to the pain. He wondered often if Patrick could actually feel physical pain at all, given he’d never seen Patrick react to it.
His hips rocked harder into Vic, his teeth letting go in favor of sucking at the skin instead. Distantly, Vic worried about someone seeing all the marks Patrick left on him. He’d started trembling at some point, although he wasn’t sure when that started or what sparked it. His chest seemed almost painfully tight and an overwhelming sense of being trapped washed over him.
He closed his eyes and ignored it. This was just sex, it was ridiculous to be bothered by it. Patrick wasn’t hurting him in a way he disliked. There was nothing wrong, he didn’t know why he felt like there was. Even as he tried to focus on the way Patrick fucked him, his mind couldn’t shake the feeling. His body hadn’t relaxed much around Patrick.
“Fuck,” Patrick murmured into his skin. “You’re so fucking tight.”
Patrick’s words sounded so far off, cloudy and distant. It felt like there was a wall between them, keeping Vic from fully being there with Patrick. He held tighter to him as though it would close the gap, but even with their skin pressed as closely as they could be, it didn’t change anything. He was falling apart in Patrick’s hands, whining weakly at each harder thrust. Time slowed to a crawl and hours could have passed without him realizing it.
He felt so out of breath, despite Patrick being the one to do all the work. Patrick panted and buried his face further against his skin. He was sweating above him, but Vic was still cold. Shivers ran through him with some regularity and his head felt light in a way he’d never really experienced before. He barely registered the moment Patrick finally came.
Hips jerked erratically as he got closer and Vic wasn’t aware enough to even be relieved Patrick pulled out. He could feel him spilling hot over his stomach, the warmth only temporary and not enough to truly matter. He was shaking more fully once Patrick eased off of his body. He pulled the blankets up around himself and laid his head on Patrick’s chest.
The rapid beating of his heart distracted Vic from the sound of his own. He tried to comfort his own mind, telling himself Patrick’s heart was going faster than his and he was still fine. He would be okay, he kept repeating those words. The room felt like it was spinning as he stared at the bare wall across from him. Eventually, it became too much and he had to close his eyes to try to calm down.
Patrick went unaware of anything being wrong with him, but he wasn’t sure how. He had to be acting strangely, he couldn’t fathom the idea that he seemed alright. It had to be obvious. Patrick just stroked his arm and back like everything was normal, though. He could hear each beat of his own heart and he became fixated on it, worrying that it was racing too quickly. And still, Patrick simply held him.
Holding onto Patrick was comforting, although it wasn't enough to fully calm him. Patrick felt real and there. If anything was actually wrong, Patrick would be able to do something at the very least. He wouldn't let him die here, not like this. He liked messing with him too much. When Vic died, it would likely be by Patrick's hands. Not whatever this was.
Vic held him closer and nudged his face against his skin. Each of Patrick's fingers rubbed soothing patterns along his skin. He likely wasn't even aware he was helping Vic. It seemed like he couldn't get close enough to him, tangling their legs together. No, Vic wouldn't consider himself a touch-starved person in general. But sometimes with Patrick, he was nearly ravenous.
