Sucker
Name: Sucker
Author: dazi_li
Rating: R for language, implied sexytimes and a certain level of WTFery
Pairing: Pete/Patrick, minor Gabe/William
POV: 3rd person
Summary: ...I honestly don't know where to start.
Disclaimer: This story is cute but very weird and very untrue.
Warning: Nothing trigger-y. Weird, but not trigger-y.
Media: Here
Notes: This is an idea I've been meaning to put to paper for awhile now. I'd like to thank coricomile for the lovely artwork, and falloutbi for not only supporting this ridiculousness, but encouraging the inevitable sequels. And trust me, there will be sequels...
Admittedly, standing in the snow while waving a placard that weighed almost as much as him wasn’t Pete’s first choice for how to spend his Saturday morning. And admittedly, he wasn’t sure he actually cared about Chemicorp’s business practices or research methods, dubious though they supposedly were. But between Gabe’s quivering lip and pleas to “help those poor defenseless bunnies”, and Andy’s cold, merciless Stare of Ethical Obligation, he’d had no choice. There he was, a frozen Pete-cicle on the coldest day of the year, praying for a rogue beam of sunlight.
“Guys-s-s… h-hey, guys-s-s… I c-can’t feel my toes,” Pete shivered around the two hour mark, fingers curled stiffly into claws around his placard’s handle.
“Will you man up and quit complaining?” Andy sneered back, disturbing the bits of frost that had collected in his creepy orange Manson beard. His friend had been grouchy most of the morning, as Pete and Gabe had left him in the car with the child locks on when they’d gone into McD’s for breakfast. It had been in everyone’s best interest; Andy’s veganism bordered on militant, to the point of snatching McNuggets from the palms of toddlers and telling them exactly how meat was prepared.
“Have some of the hot chocolate, if you’re cold.” Gabe, on the other hand, was more on the huggy sensitive granola end of the spectrum. He was respectful of the dietary choices of others, but could easily work himself into a frenzy over animal testing, especially if there were rabbits involved. Seriously, that guy loved bunnies more than any grown man should.
Pete gritted his chattering teeth in frustration. “I am not drinking any of that soy-based brown sludge you call cocoa. That stuff isn’t cocoa, it’s a lie!”
“Always fuckin’ melodrama with you.”
“I’m serious!”
“Um… excuse me?” Someone tapped tentatively on the shoulder of Pete’s hoodie. Ready to snap at the intruder, he turned around to come face-to-face with a trucker hat. Dropping his gaze a few inches, he saw what could only be described as a snow angel smiling up at him from beneath the cap’s brim. The smaller boy was all trussed up in a puffy winter jacket, and his eyes practically sparkled blue-green in the morning sun, offset by his ruddy round cheeks.
His plump little Cupid’s bow mouth grinned shyly as he continued. “Hey. Um, you can have some of my cocoa. If you want.” The little snow angel lifted a skeleton-gloved hand to offer him a thermos emblazoned with the Ghostbusters logo. “It’s Swiss Miss.”
Suddenly he didn’t feel so cold anymore. An atomic bomb could’ve fallen on the demonstration and Pete still wouldn’t have been able to do anything but gawk in amazement at this winter morning miracle. Carefully prying his hand from his placard, he reached out to take the thermos. “Love you…”
The boy’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he quickly caught his mistake. “Thank you, yes, thank you, is what I said. Thank you very much for the cocoa, um…”
“It’s Patrick.”
“Patrick… I’m Pete. …seriously, thanks for this.” Opening the spout, he tilted it back and took two and a half swallows before he realized he was searing the lining of his throat. Patrick politely tried not to laugh as he choked a little and dribbled hot chocolate down the front of himself. “Yeah,” he wheezed, voice rasping over the words, “definitely not cold anymore, thanks.”
“Anytime,” Patrick grinned, taking the thermos back.
“Hey Rick, I found the others! And Sisky brought cookies- oh God it’s you.”
A tall, lanky boy in a Bears jacket had come running over for his friend, but was now giving Gabe the mother of all evil eyes. Gabe turned at his voice, smiling sheepishly. “Hi… Bill?”
“Hello, Gabe,” the skinny boy sneered, flicking his girlish bangs out of his face. “You still owe me $12. …and new underwear.”
Andy cringed and sighed in disgust. “Saporta, how many times have I told you not to fuck freshmen?”
“You try remembering all your stupid rules after three shots of Patron!”
Bill rolled his eyes and flicked his bangs again, sliding an arm through Patrick’s. “C’mon, Rick, there’s weed cookies to be eaten.”
The smaller boy gave a weak smile over his shoulder as he let himself be tugged along, but Pete, in a fit of panic, made a grab for his hand. “Hey, wait a second. Um… This is probably way too sudden, but… would you wanna hang out sometime? Grab some coffee, or something?”
Blinking in surprise, Patrick slowly lit up like Christmas morning, giving a few sharp excited nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be awesome.” He shook off his friend, who was now giving him a palpably disapproving look, and fumbled a pen out of his pocket. Through some act of divine providence, Pete managed not to squeal like a little girl as the boy thoughtfully inked his number onto his palm. The last digit was barely down before Bill was jerking him away again, his smile a bit delirious. “Call me!”
OK, maybe there was a bit of squealing once he was out of range. …and maybe Pete closed his fist around the number like a treasure and held it to his heart for a second.
“You are such a girl.”
“Shut up, Hurley.”
-
As it turned out, when they finally met up at Starbucks a week later, neither of them actually drank coffee. Patrick opted for yet more hot chocolate, spiked with vanilla and hazelnut, and Pete’s order was too overloaded with whipped cream and sugary syrups to still legally qualify as coffee. “We’ve all got our things,” Pete insisted in response to the other smirking at the sundae-like concoction. “Mine just happens to be sugar.”
“No judgment passed.” They took a booth at the back, respectfully putting space between themselves and the harried-looking business man typing unblinkingly at his laptop and all but mainlining a latte. “So, what brought you to the protest last week?”
“Honestly? My friends sort of kidnapped me and made me go. I do care about animals, don’t get me wrong; I’m just not enough of an activist about it to want to protest outside on a Saturday morning in February.” Pete worried his lip with his teeth when he realized how insensitive it had sounded. “I hope that’s not a huge deal breaker for you.”
“It’s OK, everyone’s entitled to their own view of things,” Patrick replied thoughtfully. “I think how much an issue directly impacts a person contributes to how active they are about it. My major is marine biology, and Chemicorp does a lot of reprehensible research on aquatic mammals.”
“Really? I hadn’t heard that. All Gabe had mentioned was that there were bunnies involved.”
Patrick snorted a bit into his cup. “Yeah, they test on all the usual species as well, but using dolphins is highly unorthodox in pharmaceutical testing. It’s shocking in itself that they managed to hide it from the government as long as they did, considering all the laws surrounding them. There’s some diabetes study being done since they learned that dolphins can develop Type 2, but testing restless leg syndrome medication on them just doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.”
“Wow. It’s nice to finally be hearing some reason behind the commotion. You seem to genuinely… care. What got you into marine biology?”
“Oh, um, my family used to go to the aquarium a lot when I was little. I’ve just always been comfortable there. I’m planning on specializing in reef habitats, y’know, raise awareness about how pollution affects ocean population. How about you?”
“Me? Well, I’m majoring in political science,” Pete smiled. “I wanna be a congressional aide. Shed light on important issues. Make sure the higher-ups hear what it is the people want.”
“So, you wanna help people like me?” Patrick took a sip of his cooling chocolate, pulling away with a faint whipped cream mustache that warmed the other boy’s heart.
“Yeah,” Pete said quietly as he leaned in to kiss it off. “I wanna help people like you.”
-
Six months in, Pete found himself banging his own head against his apartment wall in frustration. So close… So close, and yet, nothing… He was going to explode and die.
A knock at the door brought him out of his trance. Gabe stared in shock at the bruise starting to form on his forehead when he answered. “Dude, what the hell happened to your face?”
“It’s nothing. You should feel how much pain my balls are in right now.”
He turned and slumped back to the living room, Gabe behind him. “Rick still playing hard to get, then?”
“Cocktease, man. I am miserably in love with a complete cocktease.” Pete flopped headfirst onto his couch, fingers digging into the upholstery. “You missed him by like five minutes. We were making out and grinding and I went for the hoodie zipper, and all of a sudden he’s making some excuse about feeding his cat. Saporta, the boy doesn’t have a cat.”
“Dude, this is really getting serious,” Gabe agreed. “Six months in, and you’ve never seen him with less than two layers of clothing on. At this point, how do you know he’s really gay and not just doing some college experimentation?”
“He did the glittery Bowie lightning bolt last Halloween. I think it’s safe to say he’s Team Buttsex. I just… I need to know it’s not me, I guess. Like, if he doesn’t believe in sex before marriage or he’s self conscious or some shit, I’m cool with that. But if he just doesn’t want to sleep with me, then... It would be really nice if he’d stop stringing me along, cuz my balls seriously can’t take much more.”
“I’m sure it’s probably one of those other things, not you. Bilvy mentioned awhile back that the guy’s like a mega-virgin, so he’s probably just scared to take the plunge, is all.”
Pete nodded into the couch cushion, begrudgingly mollified, until he connected all the dots. “Wait, Bill’s actually talking to you again, not just yelling at you?”
“I bought him Jameson,” he grinned in return. “And new underwear.”
“We should really just get Andy’s rules tattooed on your forearm so you’ll remember to stop fucking freshmen.”
“Hey, shut up, you’re fucking one too. …whoops, nevermind, that’s the problem.”
“I hate you, Gabe.”
-
Patrick knocked at his door twenty minutes early the next day, wringing his hands and biting his lip. “Can we talk?”
“Yeah, sure, of course, babe.” Pete took him by the hand to the couch.”What’s wrong?”
“OK, um… I’m not sure where to start with this… Christ… Bill said that Gabe said that I’ve been a cocktease to you.”
Pete cringed, subtly grinding his teeth at the damage his friend had no doubt caused. “Rick, no, dude, don’t listen to anything Gabe says, he’s an idiot. I will move at whatever speed you want to, I’m not gonna pressure you to do something you’re not comfortable with-“
“No, but, that’s not the problem. It’s… I want to move forward, I do, I… there’s just something I need to tell you first.” The younger boy stood and put a few feet between them, the older watching him with concern and a bit of fear. “I’m… I’m scared, to show you what I need to show you… I’ve never told anyone about this before, not even Bill. But, I really like you, and if we’re gonna go further, you need to know.”
Heart racing, Pete watched as the zipper of the ever-present hoodie was slid down, memorizing the bared arms as the accursed garment was finally shucked. He saw Patrick swallow hard as he nervously grasped the hem of the tee underneath, and like a Band-aid, he ripped it off in one sharp jerk that took his hat with it and knocked his glasses askew.
“…holy shit…”
From around the twitching boy’s torso untwined four undulating appendages, two on each side, about the length and width of his arms. The ends tapered into soft points and curled in on themselves, as though bashful, and the undersides were lined with quarter-sized round bumps that his mind deliriously categorized as suckers.
“So… you have… tentacles,” Pete snorted a bit hysterically, blinking in disbelief.
Patrick face contorted further in embarrassment. “Yeah. I have them. …I was a lab rat. My real parents had sold me to a research lab, but the government raided it when I was still little and they put me up for adoption. They’re attached to all of my systems, so the doctors can’t get rid of them without sending my body into massive shock. This is why I chose marine biology, and why I protest. … please don’t freak out, OK? Like I said, you’re the only person I’ve ever shown them to, and I mean, I’ll totally understand if you wanna dump me now. Just, please don’t freak out.”
Through the haze of utter surprise, Pete was slowly picking out the finer details. As unusual as the body parts were, they seemed to meld perfectly to their host: the creamy skin tone matched flawlessly, pale and lightly freckled, and their connection to his sides was seamless. Even the surface of the suckers color-coordinated with the blush that ran from his cheekbones to the tops of his shoulders, and with the rosy pink of his nipples. It was as if they’d always been meant to be part of his body.
“…can I touch one?”
It was Patrick’s turn to be shocked as he slowly rose from his seat, his feet shuffling ever so carefully across the floor towards him. Pete raised his hand in a deliberate, easy arc, one finger out, as though approaching a baby deer in the forest. The pad of the finger finally made contact with sensitive skin, and the boy wasn’t prepared for the goosebumps that cropped up as the touch migrated in a slow, concentrated path down to the curling tip.
“Patrick… I don’t feel any different about you, now that I know. I want you to understand that.” Pete smiled softly as the tip wrapped itself around his outstretched index, the first sucker damp as though sweaty against the bottom phalange. “As far as I’m concerned… You’re still the most wonderful, unexpected miracle I’ve ever known. Even your flaws are more perfect than anything really has the right to be.”
The flush deepened across his shoulders as moved to shy away. “You don’t have to lie about it to make me feel better. If they freak you out, you can just say it, and I won’t be offended, but don’t try to be nice and act like I’m not a sideshow act just because you still wanna get in my pants-“
His insecure babbling was cut off by Pete pulling him in for a kiss, hands cupping his face in earnest reverence. The older boy smiled fondly against his mouth as he tucked a strand of loose hair behind his ear. “Baby… just trust me on this one… I’m cool with it.”
A sob threatened to claw its way past his teeth, but Patrick sucked it back and gratefully brought all six upper limbs up to return the embrace. “OK,” he mumbled, fingers and tips curling against the fabric beneath them. “OK.”
-
They didn’t have sex that night. Hell, they didn’t have sex that month. Pete wasn’t just bullshitting him, he really did wanna go at his pace. They wrapped the night with John Hughes and Swiss Miss.
When it finally did happen, they were probably too intoxicated to be making the decision. It was the first keger of the new school year, and the local peta2 chapter was hosting, which meant only one thing: three dozen batches of Sisky’s world-famous “organic” cookies. Andy stood in the corner the whole time, shaking his head disapprovingly, while Bill danced in wavy circles like a loadie at Monterey and Gabe announced to anyone who would listen that his boyfriend was now a sophomore and he wasn’t breaking the rules anymore.
After about an hour of snuggling on a dorm couch and eating giggledoodles, Patrick raised his head off Pete’s shoulder dreamily. His eyes were so dilated and blue they could’ve passed for the Atlantic. “Do you think we could go somewhere else?”
“Whatever you want, my little cutie Cthulu,” Pete cooed in reply, nuzzling a sideburn. Sappy, wriggly nicknames had quickly followed the big reveal. Patrick wasn’t especially fond of them, particularly not “cutie Cthulu,” but he blushed nonetheless and let the older boy hold his hand on the walk to his apartment.
Even with the herbal assistance, the removal of the evil hoodie happened with no small amount of hesitation. “You’re… still sure they don’t freak you out too bad? I can keep my shirt on.”
“Baby, don’t start that. You know how I feel about you.” Pete soothed one hand over his lower back in reassurance as he helped take off the oversized tee and tossed off his own. “I love everything about you, starfish. Fuck… I just plain love you.”
Patrick blushed all the way down to his naval. “I love you enough to forgive you for calling me starfish.”
“That’s the spirit.” He buried his smile in the crook of his neck, tasting the sweet, untouched skin for himself and relishing the quiet moans he got in return. The other boy’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, while his extra limbs cautiously wound around his back, the underside of his tentacles like bubble wrap against him. Mapping out the perfect spot, Pete bit down and was rewarded by being clutched tight, every little sucker suddenly latched on. “Too hard?”
“N-no, just… sudden…” Patrick moved to relax, but found himself stuck. With a little grunt of annoyance, he pulled himself free, and the older boy let out a squeal of surprise and dug his fingers into his shoulder blades. “Oh, Christ, sorry.”
“Wow…” Pete’s lip trembled a bit as he processed the sensation, his lust ratcheted up to an even higher notch. “Baby, just… don’t be sorry about that, that was hot…”
“…it was?”
“Yeah… it was like… dozens of little hickies, all at once. Do you think you could do it again?”
After a few confused blinks, Patrick gave a small, dangerous smirk. “Maybe this is gonna work out just fine after all…
Author: dazi_li
Rating: R for language, implied sexytimes and a certain level of WTFery
Pairing: Pete/Patrick, minor Gabe/William
POV: 3rd person
Summary: ...I honestly don't know where to start.
Disclaimer: This story is cute but very weird and very untrue.
Warning: Nothing trigger-y. Weird, but not trigger-y.
Media: Here
Notes: This is an idea I've been meaning to put to paper for awhile now. I'd like to thank coricomile for the lovely artwork, and falloutbi for not only supporting this ridiculousness, but encouraging the inevitable sequels. And trust me, there will be sequels...
Admittedly, standing in the snow while waving a placard that weighed almost as much as him wasn’t Pete’s first choice for how to spend his Saturday morning. And admittedly, he wasn’t sure he actually cared about Chemicorp’s business practices or research methods, dubious though they supposedly were. But between Gabe’s quivering lip and pleas to “help those poor defenseless bunnies”, and Andy’s cold, merciless Stare of Ethical Obligation, he’d had no choice. There he was, a frozen Pete-cicle on the coldest day of the year, praying for a rogue beam of sunlight.
“Guys-s-s… h-hey, guys-s-s… I c-can’t feel my toes,” Pete shivered around the two hour mark, fingers curled stiffly into claws around his placard’s handle.
“Will you man up and quit complaining?” Andy sneered back, disturbing the bits of frost that had collected in his creepy orange Manson beard. His friend had been grouchy most of the morning, as Pete and Gabe had left him in the car with the child locks on when they’d gone into McD’s for breakfast. It had been in everyone’s best interest; Andy’s veganism bordered on militant, to the point of snatching McNuggets from the palms of toddlers and telling them exactly how meat was prepared.
“Have some of the hot chocolate, if you’re cold.” Gabe, on the other hand, was more on the huggy sensitive granola end of the spectrum. He was respectful of the dietary choices of others, but could easily work himself into a frenzy over animal testing, especially if there were rabbits involved. Seriously, that guy loved bunnies more than any grown man should.
Pete gritted his chattering teeth in frustration. “I am not drinking any of that soy-based brown sludge you call cocoa. That stuff isn’t cocoa, it’s a lie!”
“Always fuckin’ melodrama with you.”
“I’m serious!”
“Um… excuse me?” Someone tapped tentatively on the shoulder of Pete’s hoodie. Ready to snap at the intruder, he turned around to come face-to-face with a trucker hat. Dropping his gaze a few inches, he saw what could only be described as a snow angel smiling up at him from beneath the cap’s brim. The smaller boy was all trussed up in a puffy winter jacket, and his eyes practically sparkled blue-green in the morning sun, offset by his ruddy round cheeks.
His plump little Cupid’s bow mouth grinned shyly as he continued. “Hey. Um, you can have some of my cocoa. If you want.” The little snow angel lifted a skeleton-gloved hand to offer him a thermos emblazoned with the Ghostbusters logo. “It’s Swiss Miss.”
Suddenly he didn’t feel so cold anymore. An atomic bomb could’ve fallen on the demonstration and Pete still wouldn’t have been able to do anything but gawk in amazement at this winter morning miracle. Carefully prying his hand from his placard, he reached out to take the thermos. “Love you…”
The boy’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he quickly caught his mistake. “Thank you, yes, thank you, is what I said. Thank you very much for the cocoa, um…”
“It’s Patrick.”
“Patrick… I’m Pete. …seriously, thanks for this.” Opening the spout, he tilted it back and took two and a half swallows before he realized he was searing the lining of his throat. Patrick politely tried not to laugh as he choked a little and dribbled hot chocolate down the front of himself. “Yeah,” he wheezed, voice rasping over the words, “definitely not cold anymore, thanks.”
“Anytime,” Patrick grinned, taking the thermos back.
“Hey Rick, I found the others! And Sisky brought cookies- oh God it’s you.”
A tall, lanky boy in a Bears jacket had come running over for his friend, but was now giving Gabe the mother of all evil eyes. Gabe turned at his voice, smiling sheepishly. “Hi… Bill?”
“Hello, Gabe,” the skinny boy sneered, flicking his girlish bangs out of his face. “You still owe me $12. …and new underwear.”
Andy cringed and sighed in disgust. “Saporta, how many times have I told you not to fuck freshmen?”
“You try remembering all your stupid rules after three shots of Patron!”
Bill rolled his eyes and flicked his bangs again, sliding an arm through Patrick’s. “C’mon, Rick, there’s weed cookies to be eaten.”
The smaller boy gave a weak smile over his shoulder as he let himself be tugged along, but Pete, in a fit of panic, made a grab for his hand. “Hey, wait a second. Um… This is probably way too sudden, but… would you wanna hang out sometime? Grab some coffee, or something?”
Blinking in surprise, Patrick slowly lit up like Christmas morning, giving a few sharp excited nods. “Yeah. Yeah, that would be awesome.” He shook off his friend, who was now giving him a palpably disapproving look, and fumbled a pen out of his pocket. Through some act of divine providence, Pete managed not to squeal like a little girl as the boy thoughtfully inked his number onto his palm. The last digit was barely down before Bill was jerking him away again, his smile a bit delirious. “Call me!”
OK, maybe there was a bit of squealing once he was out of range. …and maybe Pete closed his fist around the number like a treasure and held it to his heart for a second.
“You are such a girl.”
“Shut up, Hurley.”
-
As it turned out, when they finally met up at Starbucks a week later, neither of them actually drank coffee. Patrick opted for yet more hot chocolate, spiked with vanilla and hazelnut, and Pete’s order was too overloaded with whipped cream and sugary syrups to still legally qualify as coffee. “We’ve all got our things,” Pete insisted in response to the other smirking at the sundae-like concoction. “Mine just happens to be sugar.”
“No judgment passed.” They took a booth at the back, respectfully putting space between themselves and the harried-looking business man typing unblinkingly at his laptop and all but mainlining a latte. “So, what brought you to the protest last week?”
“Honestly? My friends sort of kidnapped me and made me go. I do care about animals, don’t get me wrong; I’m just not enough of an activist about it to want to protest outside on a Saturday morning in February.” Pete worried his lip with his teeth when he realized how insensitive it had sounded. “I hope that’s not a huge deal breaker for you.”
“It’s OK, everyone’s entitled to their own view of things,” Patrick replied thoughtfully. “I think how much an issue directly impacts a person contributes to how active they are about it. My major is marine biology, and Chemicorp does a lot of reprehensible research on aquatic mammals.”
“Really? I hadn’t heard that. All Gabe had mentioned was that there were bunnies involved.”
Patrick snorted a bit into his cup. “Yeah, they test on all the usual species as well, but using dolphins is highly unorthodox in pharmaceutical testing. It’s shocking in itself that they managed to hide it from the government as long as they did, considering all the laws surrounding them. There’s some diabetes study being done since they learned that dolphins can develop Type 2, but testing restless leg syndrome medication on them just doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.”
“Wow. It’s nice to finally be hearing some reason behind the commotion. You seem to genuinely… care. What got you into marine biology?”
“Oh, um, my family used to go to the aquarium a lot when I was little. I’ve just always been comfortable there. I’m planning on specializing in reef habitats, y’know, raise awareness about how pollution affects ocean population. How about you?”
“Me? Well, I’m majoring in political science,” Pete smiled. “I wanna be a congressional aide. Shed light on important issues. Make sure the higher-ups hear what it is the people want.”
“So, you wanna help people like me?” Patrick took a sip of his cooling chocolate, pulling away with a faint whipped cream mustache that warmed the other boy’s heart.
“Yeah,” Pete said quietly as he leaned in to kiss it off. “I wanna help people like you.”
-
Six months in, Pete found himself banging his own head against his apartment wall in frustration. So close… So close, and yet, nothing… He was going to explode and die.
A knock at the door brought him out of his trance. Gabe stared in shock at the bruise starting to form on his forehead when he answered. “Dude, what the hell happened to your face?”
“It’s nothing. You should feel how much pain my balls are in right now.”
He turned and slumped back to the living room, Gabe behind him. “Rick still playing hard to get, then?”
“Cocktease, man. I am miserably in love with a complete cocktease.” Pete flopped headfirst onto his couch, fingers digging into the upholstery. “You missed him by like five minutes. We were making out and grinding and I went for the hoodie zipper, and all of a sudden he’s making some excuse about feeding his cat. Saporta, the boy doesn’t have a cat.”
“Dude, this is really getting serious,” Gabe agreed. “Six months in, and you’ve never seen him with less than two layers of clothing on. At this point, how do you know he’s really gay and not just doing some college experimentation?”
“He did the glittery Bowie lightning bolt last Halloween. I think it’s safe to say he’s Team Buttsex. I just… I need to know it’s not me, I guess. Like, if he doesn’t believe in sex before marriage or he’s self conscious or some shit, I’m cool with that. But if he just doesn’t want to sleep with me, then... It would be really nice if he’d stop stringing me along, cuz my balls seriously can’t take much more.”
“I’m sure it’s probably one of those other things, not you. Bilvy mentioned awhile back that the guy’s like a mega-virgin, so he’s probably just scared to take the plunge, is all.”
Pete nodded into the couch cushion, begrudgingly mollified, until he connected all the dots. “Wait, Bill’s actually talking to you again, not just yelling at you?”
“I bought him Jameson,” he grinned in return. “And new underwear.”
“We should really just get Andy’s rules tattooed on your forearm so you’ll remember to stop fucking freshmen.”
“Hey, shut up, you’re fucking one too. …whoops, nevermind, that’s the problem.”
“I hate you, Gabe.”
-
Patrick knocked at his door twenty minutes early the next day, wringing his hands and biting his lip. “Can we talk?”
“Yeah, sure, of course, babe.” Pete took him by the hand to the couch.”What’s wrong?”
“OK, um… I’m not sure where to start with this… Christ… Bill said that Gabe said that I’ve been a cocktease to you.”
Pete cringed, subtly grinding his teeth at the damage his friend had no doubt caused. “Rick, no, dude, don’t listen to anything Gabe says, he’s an idiot. I will move at whatever speed you want to, I’m not gonna pressure you to do something you’re not comfortable with-“
“No, but, that’s not the problem. It’s… I want to move forward, I do, I… there’s just something I need to tell you first.” The younger boy stood and put a few feet between them, the older watching him with concern and a bit of fear. “I’m… I’m scared, to show you what I need to show you… I’ve never told anyone about this before, not even Bill. But, I really like you, and if we’re gonna go further, you need to know.”
Heart racing, Pete watched as the zipper of the ever-present hoodie was slid down, memorizing the bared arms as the accursed garment was finally shucked. He saw Patrick swallow hard as he nervously grasped the hem of the tee underneath, and like a Band-aid, he ripped it off in one sharp jerk that took his hat with it and knocked his glasses askew.
“…holy shit…”
From around the twitching boy’s torso untwined four undulating appendages, two on each side, about the length and width of his arms. The ends tapered into soft points and curled in on themselves, as though bashful, and the undersides were lined with quarter-sized round bumps that his mind deliriously categorized as suckers.
“So… you have… tentacles,” Pete snorted a bit hysterically, blinking in disbelief.
Patrick face contorted further in embarrassment. “Yeah. I have them. …I was a lab rat. My real parents had sold me to a research lab, but the government raided it when I was still little and they put me up for adoption. They’re attached to all of my systems, so the doctors can’t get rid of them without sending my body into massive shock. This is why I chose marine biology, and why I protest. … please don’t freak out, OK? Like I said, you’re the only person I’ve ever shown them to, and I mean, I’ll totally understand if you wanna dump me now. Just, please don’t freak out.”
Through the haze of utter surprise, Pete was slowly picking out the finer details. As unusual as the body parts were, they seemed to meld perfectly to their host: the creamy skin tone matched flawlessly, pale and lightly freckled, and their connection to his sides was seamless. Even the surface of the suckers color-coordinated with the blush that ran from his cheekbones to the tops of his shoulders, and with the rosy pink of his nipples. It was as if they’d always been meant to be part of his body.
“…can I touch one?”
It was Patrick’s turn to be shocked as he slowly rose from his seat, his feet shuffling ever so carefully across the floor towards him. Pete raised his hand in a deliberate, easy arc, one finger out, as though approaching a baby deer in the forest. The pad of the finger finally made contact with sensitive skin, and the boy wasn’t prepared for the goosebumps that cropped up as the touch migrated in a slow, concentrated path down to the curling tip.
“Patrick… I don’t feel any different about you, now that I know. I want you to understand that.” Pete smiled softly as the tip wrapped itself around his outstretched index, the first sucker damp as though sweaty against the bottom phalange. “As far as I’m concerned… You’re still the most wonderful, unexpected miracle I’ve ever known. Even your flaws are more perfect than anything really has the right to be.”
The flush deepened across his shoulders as moved to shy away. “You don’t have to lie about it to make me feel better. If they freak you out, you can just say it, and I won’t be offended, but don’t try to be nice and act like I’m not a sideshow act just because you still wanna get in my pants-“
His insecure babbling was cut off by Pete pulling him in for a kiss, hands cupping his face in earnest reverence. The older boy smiled fondly against his mouth as he tucked a strand of loose hair behind his ear. “Baby… just trust me on this one… I’m cool with it.”
A sob threatened to claw its way past his teeth, but Patrick sucked it back and gratefully brought all six upper limbs up to return the embrace. “OK,” he mumbled, fingers and tips curling against the fabric beneath them. “OK.”
-
They didn’t have sex that night. Hell, they didn’t have sex that month. Pete wasn’t just bullshitting him, he really did wanna go at his pace. They wrapped the night with John Hughes and Swiss Miss.
When it finally did happen, they were probably too intoxicated to be making the decision. It was the first keger of the new school year, and the local peta2 chapter was hosting, which meant only one thing: three dozen batches of Sisky’s world-famous “organic” cookies. Andy stood in the corner the whole time, shaking his head disapprovingly, while Bill danced in wavy circles like a loadie at Monterey and Gabe announced to anyone who would listen that his boyfriend was now a sophomore and he wasn’t breaking the rules anymore.
After about an hour of snuggling on a dorm couch and eating giggledoodles, Patrick raised his head off Pete’s shoulder dreamily. His eyes were so dilated and blue they could’ve passed for the Atlantic. “Do you think we could go somewhere else?”
“Whatever you want, my little cutie Cthulu,” Pete cooed in reply, nuzzling a sideburn. Sappy, wriggly nicknames had quickly followed the big reveal. Patrick wasn’t especially fond of them, particularly not “cutie Cthulu,” but he blushed nonetheless and let the older boy hold his hand on the walk to his apartment.
Even with the herbal assistance, the removal of the evil hoodie happened with no small amount of hesitation. “You’re… still sure they don’t freak you out too bad? I can keep my shirt on.”
“Baby, don’t start that. You know how I feel about you.” Pete soothed one hand over his lower back in reassurance as he helped take off the oversized tee and tossed off his own. “I love everything about you, starfish. Fuck… I just plain love you.”
Patrick blushed all the way down to his naval. “I love you enough to forgive you for calling me starfish.”
“That’s the spirit.” He buried his smile in the crook of his neck, tasting the sweet, untouched skin for himself and relishing the quiet moans he got in return. The other boy’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, while his extra limbs cautiously wound around his back, the underside of his tentacles like bubble wrap against him. Mapping out the perfect spot, Pete bit down and was rewarded by being clutched tight, every little sucker suddenly latched on. “Too hard?”
“N-no, just… sudden…” Patrick moved to relax, but found himself stuck. With a little grunt of annoyance, he pulled himself free, and the older boy let out a squeal of surprise and dug his fingers into his shoulder blades. “Oh, Christ, sorry.”
“Wow…” Pete’s lip trembled a bit as he processed the sensation, his lust ratcheted up to an even higher notch. “Baby, just… don’t be sorry about that, that was hot…”
“…it was?”
“Yeah… it was like… dozens of little hickies, all at once. Do you think you could do it again?”
After a few confused blinks, Patrick gave a small, dangerous smirk. “Maybe this is gonna work out just fine after all…