The Broken Triangle (33 page)

“Let you touch me? Just that?” Patrick held Vin’s gaze for a long moment, as if he was searching Vin’s expression for a hidden meaning. Vin waited, his hands still, holding his breath, but in the end Patrick turned his face into the pillow again and gave a long sigh, some, if not all, of the tension leaving him. “Do whatever you like, Vin. Anything. I mean it.”

Vin bent and pressed his lips to the back of Patrick’s shoulder in a featherlight kiss, then straightened up again and threaded the fingers of both hands into Patrick’s hair. It was too short to curl around his fingers, but it had enough body that it seemed to cling to him all the same. It was soft and smelled faintly of shampoo when he ruffled it. “Smells nice.”

“Yeah? It’s from the dollar store.” Patrick’s words were audible even though the pillow muffled them.

“You’ll have to show me which one.” Vin’s shampoo was ultramasculine, the scent more like aftershave than anything else. He leaned in with his thumbs, finding the bumps at the base of Patrick’s skull. “This is good for headaches,” he said.

“You go to medical school when I wasn’t looking?”

Vin chuckled and moved his hands lower, massaging where Patrick’s neck and shoulders met. They were places he thought he might like to bite later on. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to leave marks that would linger. “Read it in a book.” He tightened his grip until Patrick gasped, then let up. “I haven’t spent enough time practicing, though.”

“Can practice on me anytime.” Patrick’s right hand, which had been resting at his side, slid down to touch Vin’s knee.

Without thinking about it, already falling into the same dreamy calm he’d felt during the kissing, Vin captured Patrick’s hand and drew it up level with his head, pressing it into the pillow.

“I don’t get to touch?” Curious, maybe amused, but not hurt or aggrieved, Vin decided.

“Not yet. You’re distracting, and I want to concentrate on you, not what you’re doing to me.”

“But I’m doing stuff to you by letting you do stuff to me?”

Vin gave up on working that one out before Patrick had finished saying it. He kind of got it anyway. “Don’t talk? Because that’s—”

“Distracting,” Patrick finished. “Zipping it right now.”

Vin expected that to last until the next thought Patrick had to share, but to his pleasure, Patrick did stop talking, the only sounds escaping him a grunt when Vin dug his knuckles into a tight knot of muscle, or a hum that verged on orgasmic when Vin curved his hand around the back of Patrick’s neck, pressing in carefully with his fingers and thumb before kneading the skin using a circular movement. He’d had that done to him in massages before and liked it, but it seemed to drive Patrick wild.

Vin smiled, unseen. He was going to find every hot spot Patrick had. Not all at once, but he’d find them, and he wouldn’t forget a single one. He concentrated on Patrick’s neck, bracing himself on his hands and lowering until his torso was an inch away from Patrick’s skin, holding the position easily, his yoga lessons paying off. Blowing across Patrick’s nape made him shiver, but he held still when Vin murmured, “Don’t move,” in his ear and licked the warm skin.

Both of Patrick’s hands were on the pillow now, and as Vin watched, they flexed, fingernails digging into softness and releasing it over and over, a spasmodic clutch, with the rest of Patrick’s body obediently quiescent.

Vin brushed his fingertips across every inch of Patrick’s skin in short strokes. He started at Patrick’s shoulders and moved down along his spine, smiling when the light touch over Patrick’s ribs elicited a shiver. “Ticklish?” he asked, and Patrick nodded.

By the time he’d reached Patrick’s lower back, fingers weren’t enough, and he was using his lips and tongue, tracing each bump of Patrick’s spine and tasting each hollow. Patrick was still quiet, though the growing tension in his muscles told a different story.

“Turn over?” Vin moved off Patrick so he could, then straddled him again when he was lying on his back, which put their matching erections in close contact through the fabric encasing them. It felt great, but it wasn’t Vin’s focus just then.

He rested his fingers on Patrick’s mouth, and Patrick kissed them. Patrick’s pupils were wide in the low light, his lip swollen from their previous kiss fest. When Vin trailed his fingers over Patrick’s chin and throat, he could feel the faint rasp of stubble. He wondered what Patrick would look like with more than two days’ beard growth—the most he’d ever seen him with, and barely visible then, slight hints of dark blond.

When he leaned down and pressed a series of kisses to Patrick’s throat, Patrick inhaled but there was no touch of his hands, which lay on either side of his head. Vin moved his mouth lower to Patrick’s collarbone, to his chest, to his tight nipples, where he meant to spend a few seconds lingering. He ended up focusing on them for a long time, alternating between licks and a scrape of teeth that had Patrick trembling and begging.

“Please.” It was a whisper, but Vin could hear the heat of desire behind it, feel it in the press of Patrick’s cock against his sternum.

The whisper, quiet though it was, reverberated in Vin’s ears, bringing him out of his absorption and into the here and now. He was hard, balls tight, cock like iron, and an awareness of his arousal hit him, driving a gasp out of him. He felt like a tightrope walker with no net under him and a long drop to the ground.

Panic rose, but Patrick was quicker. What he saw in Vin’s expression, Vin didn’t know, but Patrick deliberately raised his hands an inch off the pillow, drawing Vin’s attention, then let them fall back. “Anything you want,” he said, with the slightest stress on the second word.

Relief swept away the doubt. Patrick was enjoying this. Was as unwilling as Vin for it to end. It was all he needed to know.

He moved down the bed, making space for him to kneel between Patrick’s legs. The sweatpants Patrick wore were old enough that the elastic at the waist was stretched, and on Patrick’s thinner frame they would’ve hung loosely even when new. It was easy to slide his finger an inch inside the waist and run it across skin that tensed under the slow drag of his fingernail. He did it again, from hip bone to hip bone, against skin stretched taut over bone, to the sweet hollow that was going down on the hot-spot list. From there, the skin was softer, smooth, until his finger met the first wiry hairs clouding Patrick’s stomach. He paused, twisting a few of them between finger and thumb, tugging at them. Patrick bit his lip, then pressed his lips together firmly, then opened them on a moan, the small, indecisive movements betraying his struggle to lie still.

Vin inched backward and slid his hands down along Patrick’s hips to his thighs, thumbs pointed toward each other so that the cotton stretched tight over Patrick’s solid erection, Vin’s hands and the waistband creating a frame around Patrick’s cock. The head and shaft were easy to see, the scrotum more a vague, tantalizing shape. Vin let his thumbs sweep upward until they brushed Patrick’s balls through the material, and glanced up in time to see Patrick’s tongue flicker out and wet his lips.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Patrick’s voice was low and rough.

“Good.” Vin bent and blew hot, moist breath through the fabric over Patrick’s balls. He felt Patrick’s cock throb once, lifting away from his belly as if it had a mind of its own and wanted Vin’s mouth as much as Vin wanted to taste it.

Patrick raised his hips as Vin tugged the sweatpants lower—not off, but down enough so that Patrick’s cock was free. Vin had seen it before, but not up close like this, not when it was hard and damp at the tip. He touched it with a hand that was suddenly trembling, fingertips moving from head to base as Patrick’s soft, dark blond pubic hair crinkled against his palm.

Unable to wait another second, Vin closed his mouth around the head of Patrick’s cock for a moment, wetting it. A desperately eager sound escaped Patrick’s lips, and Vin wanted nothing more than to make Patrick repeat that sound, over and over, until the inevitable flood of release bathed his tongue. Vin cradled Patrick’s balls in one hand, the pad of his pinky finger pressed to the sensitive spot behind them. He took Patrick into his mouth again, sucking softly, no teeth. He wondered how long Patrick could take it if he was gentle and slow. He wanted to ask but would have had to pull his mouth away to do that, and just then he needed the solid length of Patrick moving between his lips and pressed to the insides of his cheeks more than anything else.

Patrick whimpered, and Vin tasted a hint of what was to follow, surprisingly sweet on his tongue. It made him ache for more; he found himself sucking harder without having intended to, anxious to take Patrick’s pleasure past the point of no return.

“Let me. Oh God, let me,” Patrick begged, the tumble of words accompanied by a pulse from his cock, yielding a fresh burst of taste in Vin’s mouth. “Please, Vin.”

Even as he begged, Patrick locked his muscles, straining not to thrust up, waiting for Vin to decide when it was time to end this.

They could do this again, Vin realized with a joy intense enough to leave him shaken. Patrick liked it. No, loved it. Was keening out his pleasure as Vin gave tacit permission for him to come by taking the rigid shaft as deep as he could before pulling back and swirling his tongue around the head.

Swallow or not? He’d never liked it with Riley, but this was Patrick, and everything was different with him. Patrick cried out, and Vin let the cock slide back into his mouth, timing his swallow with the first strong jet of fluid to avoid choking. It made a huge difference getting the timing right. He swallowed again and again, clearing his mouth, counting the weakening pulses as Patrick’s climax tapered off.

Patrick panted for breath a few times, then made a questioning sound, and Vin looked up. “C’mere,” Patrick muttered. “Come here, please?”

Vin did as asked, leaving Patrick’s sweatpants midthigh and shifting up on the bed to lie beside him. Patrick wrapped an arm around him in an awkward half hug and kissed him. The kiss was awkward too, but Vin didn’t care about that.

“Was that good?” he asked, worried about the possible answer and what he might see in Patrick’s contact-blue eyes.

Patrick’s smile, sweet and warm, provided instant reassurance. “Are you kidding? It was amazing.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Vin said, biting his lip. “I mean, I’m still kind of figuring it out.” Patrick had been with so many guys, and probably 99 percent of them had had more experience than he did.

“Well, you must be a quick learner, because it was perfect.” Patrick hitched himself onto his side and took Vin’s face between his hands. “Perfect. You’re perfect. Stop freaking out about this, please.”

“I’m not freaking out,” Vin protested, then smiled weakly. “Okay, a little. It’s just that you—”

“Let’s not talk about what a slut I am,” Patrick said. “Was. That’s over now, and I only want you.”

Vin frowned at him. “You know what? Don’t ever call yourself that again. You weren’t, and you sure as hell aren’t now.”

“No,” Patrick said and smiled. “Now I’m yours. All yours.”

There was the hint of a question there, and Vin answered it, making the decision he’d hesitated over earlier. “Yeah, you are. We’re doing this. It’s going to work.”

“Mmm.” Patrick wriggled closer still. “So what happens if I slip and use the S word?”

Vin ran his hand down Patrick’s back and took hold of his ass, the muscles bunching as he squeezed. “I don’t know. Maybe I fuck you so slowly you’re crying by the end, but I never, ever go faster. Glacier slow. Ketchup-out-of-a-bottle slow.”

Patrick blinked so fast Vin could feel the draft, his expression stunned, then thoughtful. A smile spread across his face, and he snuggled in, closing the last inch between them. “Evil,” he said with profound satisfaction.

“If you say so,” Vin murmured and kissed Patrick’s tousled hair.

Patrick woke to the annoying sound of Vin’s alarm clock. It was too early. If it had been up to him, he’d have set the alarm to a much later time and stumbled downstairs to their shift at the last minute, but apparently being forced into wakefulness hours before he needed to be was one of the drawbacks to sleeping over at Vin’s.

“Morning,” Vin grunted and reached over him to shut off the persistent beeping.

Blessed silence.

“Why?” Patrick whined a moment later. “Do you hate me? You hate me, don’t you?”

“I don’t hate you,” Vin murmured into Patrick’s hair. His arm settled over Patrick’s waist, warm and comforting.

Maybe there were benefits to sleeping over at Vin’s, in addition to drawbacks. Patrick wasn’t going to abandon the whining, though. Not if it earned him more reassurances from this new version of Vin, a Vin who wanted him, who’d done things to him that, even sleepy and grumpy, Patrick couldn’t remember without a shudder of delight.

That massage. That blowjob. The slow, thorough possession of his body as Vin learned it through touch and taste. God, so hot, all of it. Patrick kicked out his legs, stretching the way he did before he got out of bed, arousal doing the job of coffee. Not that he was moving anywhere. He needed to take a piss, but not desperately thanks to a bathroom visit in the middle of the night. He’d stubbed his toe on the bed and gotten a questioning murmur from Vin, but they’d fallen asleep again within minutes.

What would it be like to be fucked by Vin? They’d kept it at the BJ last night, Vin shaking his head when Patrick had offered to blow him.

“I want to wait.”

“For how long? Because I’m not sure I can keep my eyes open.”

Vin had grinned, palming his erection and giving a shiver, biting down on his lip and looking so fucking sexy Patrick’s cock had twitched with renewed lust.
“I’m not planning on coming tonight. Feels too good being like this. Knowing it’s because of you. I want to enjoy it, not bring it to an end.”

Patrick hadn’t gotten that at
all. “But coming is the fun bit, the whole point of it.”

“Not for me.”
Vin had run his tongue over his lips as if he could still taste Patrick, a slow drag that left them glistening.
“Waiting is. Letting the intensity build. Getting off on how it feels to be hard…yeah, even when it hurts a bit.”
He’d given Patrick an anxious look.
“Am I freaking you out?”