victoria's secret
So, you probably shouldn't read this. Just saying. I make no claims about quality. I wrote and posted this anonymously more than a year ago as part of some bandom porn meme, and I'm only owning up to it and reposting it now (cleaned up, of course) for housekeeping reasons. It's, um. 850 words. Pete/Patrick. nc17. Ladies' underthings. At your own risk, etc.
Pete reached out and slid one finger under the elastic band and Patrick gasped. He could feel the burn of Pete’s skin and the slide of his nail, and then Pete pulled away, snapping the elastic back into Patrick’s hip. Patrick bit down on the moan that wanted to escape him, but he couldn’t control the shiver.
Pete said, “They’re very pretty,” and he brushed his fingers beneath Patrick’s navel, just above where the black satin ended. Patrick could feel goosebumps rising everywhere, on his arms and the back of his neck and especially under Pete’s fingers. He closed his eyes, certain he should pull away, get dressed. Run.
Instead, he held his breath and tried not to twitch into Pete's touch.
Pete ghosted his fingers down, touching Patrick’s stomach through the silky fabric, sliding it against his skin. Patrick could feel it catch on the hairs leading down toward his cock when Pete’s fingers swept over them. He could feel the fabric tug at his balls as Pete shifted it, could feel it stretch and pull, and he wanted more, wanted Pete’s hand on him. Pete stayed away, though, kept his fingers moving on Patrick’s stomach, catching a pinch of fabric and tugging it back and forth, drawing the fabric across Patrick’s dick but never touching it.
Patrick could feel himself getting harder. He knew Pete could see it--could see everything like this. Pete dropped the fabric, and Patrick squeezed his eyes closed tighter.
Then fingers were sliding into the crease at his thigh, playing along the ridge of elastic where it met flesh. They barely brushed against the side of Patrick's balls when Pete slid his hand low and Patrick couldn't hold in the way his hips twitched.
“Does it feel good?” Pete's voice was all air.
Patrick knew Pete could see what this was doing to him--could see his cock hardening, head pressing against the satin. He bit his lower lip and nodded anyway.
“How about this?” Pete slid his fingers up the underside of Patrick’s dick, and Patrick swallowed back the moan halfway through, held his breath.
“Look," Pete said, "Look. You’re getting them dirty,” and Patrick already knew, could feel himself, but he opened his eyes anyway. Pete’s fingers were trailing slowly up and down his cock, sliding the fabric over him, and there was a wet spot at the head where he was leaking into the panties. Pete glanced up, made sure Patrick was watching, and then pressed his thumb to the dark spot, smoothing the damp satin back and forth across the head of Patrick’s cock, working it in circles.
Patrick fisted his hands and groaned. He couldn’t stop his hips from rocking forward, tiny thrusts at first, then pushing harder into the slide of fabric.
Pete smiled.
“I want you to come in them for me,” he said and Patrick moaned again, humping up into the press of Pete's fingers, and he was going to do exactly what Pete asked, was going to come for Pete any second. Pete slid his hand down to cup Patrick’s balls, petting them through the cloth, and Patrick thumped his head back against the wall--so close.
When Pete tightened his hand, stretching the satin until his fist was hot around Patrick's cock, it was over. Patrick could feel the clench in his stomach spread out, riding over him in waves. He came with a stifled moan, biting at the palm of his hand and thrusting his hips forward, trying to get more friction against the damp satin, trying to--fuck--. He collapsed back into the wall as it petered out, leaving him panting and sweaty.
When Patrick opened his eyes, Pete was looking down at him, at the mess in the black panties, at the fold of pale flesh where the elastic pressed into his stomach. Patrick felt the sleepy content dissipate and something cold and hard settle in his chest.
“Pete,” he said, then stopped. What was there to say?
It didn’t matter anyway, because Pete looked up, and his eyes were huge and dark. He said “Fuck, Patrick…” and then he was tugging at his own fly, yanking his dick out, leaning forward to rub himself against the satin at Patrick’s hip, muttering, “Shit, shit. Oh.”
Patrick rested his forehead on Pete’s shoulder, grabbed at his hip. "Yeah, come on," he whispered, "fucking do it,” and he felt Pete exhale hard through his nose as he bucked, felt Pete's nails in his side as he shot onto Patrick’ hip.
Patrick let himself slide down the wall until he was sitting and Pete followed, landing in Patrick's lap. He tugged Pete’s head onto his shoulder and closed his eyes, and when Pete took a deep breath, Patrick couldn’t help but tense.
“That," Pete said, "was incredible."
Patrick peeked one eye open and looked up at him, but Pete was grinning. Patrick could feel his cheeks burning, but he didn't look away, watching as Pete bit his lip and blew out a shaky breath.
"Do you have any with lace?"
Pete reached out and slid one finger under the elastic band and Patrick gasped. He could feel the burn of Pete’s skin and the slide of his nail, and then Pete pulled away, snapping the elastic back into Patrick’s hip. Patrick bit down on the moan that wanted to escape him, but he couldn’t control the shiver.
Pete said, “They’re very pretty,” and he brushed his fingers beneath Patrick’s navel, just above where the black satin ended. Patrick could feel goosebumps rising everywhere, on his arms and the back of his neck and especially under Pete’s fingers. He closed his eyes, certain he should pull away, get dressed. Run.
Instead, he held his breath and tried not to twitch into Pete's touch.
Pete ghosted his fingers down, touching Patrick’s stomach through the silky fabric, sliding it against his skin. Patrick could feel it catch on the hairs leading down toward his cock when Pete’s fingers swept over them. He could feel the fabric tug at his balls as Pete shifted it, could feel it stretch and pull, and he wanted more, wanted Pete’s hand on him. Pete stayed away, though, kept his fingers moving on Patrick’s stomach, catching a pinch of fabric and tugging it back and forth, drawing the fabric across Patrick’s dick but never touching it.
Patrick could feel himself getting harder. He knew Pete could see it--could see everything like this. Pete dropped the fabric, and Patrick squeezed his eyes closed tighter.
Then fingers were sliding into the crease at his thigh, playing along the ridge of elastic where it met flesh. They barely brushed against the side of Patrick's balls when Pete slid his hand low and Patrick couldn't hold in the way his hips twitched.
“Does it feel good?” Pete's voice was all air.
Patrick knew Pete could see what this was doing to him--could see his cock hardening, head pressing against the satin. He bit his lower lip and nodded anyway.
“How about this?” Pete slid his fingers up the underside of Patrick’s dick, and Patrick swallowed back the moan halfway through, held his breath.
“Look," Pete said, "Look. You’re getting them dirty,” and Patrick already knew, could feel himself, but he opened his eyes anyway. Pete’s fingers were trailing slowly up and down his cock, sliding the fabric over him, and there was a wet spot at the head where he was leaking into the panties. Pete glanced up, made sure Patrick was watching, and then pressed his thumb to the dark spot, smoothing the damp satin back and forth across the head of Patrick’s cock, working it in circles.
Patrick fisted his hands and groaned. He couldn’t stop his hips from rocking forward, tiny thrusts at first, then pushing harder into the slide of fabric.
Pete smiled.
“I want you to come in them for me,” he said and Patrick moaned again, humping up into the press of Pete's fingers, and he was going to do exactly what Pete asked, was going to come for Pete any second. Pete slid his hand down to cup Patrick’s balls, petting them through the cloth, and Patrick thumped his head back against the wall--so close.
When Pete tightened his hand, stretching the satin until his fist was hot around Patrick's cock, it was over. Patrick could feel the clench in his stomach spread out, riding over him in waves. He came with a stifled moan, biting at the palm of his hand and thrusting his hips forward, trying to get more friction against the damp satin, trying to--fuck--. He collapsed back into the wall as it petered out, leaving him panting and sweaty.
When Patrick opened his eyes, Pete was looking down at him, at the mess in the black panties, at the fold of pale flesh where the elastic pressed into his stomach. Patrick felt the sleepy content dissipate and something cold and hard settle in his chest.
“Pete,” he said, then stopped. What was there to say?
It didn’t matter anyway, because Pete looked up, and his eyes were huge and dark. He said “Fuck, Patrick…” and then he was tugging at his own fly, yanking his dick out, leaning forward to rub himself against the satin at Patrick’s hip, muttering, “Shit, shit. Oh.”
Patrick rested his forehead on Pete’s shoulder, grabbed at his hip. "Yeah, come on," he whispered, "fucking do it,” and he felt Pete exhale hard through his nose as he bucked, felt Pete's nails in his side as he shot onto Patrick’ hip.
Patrick let himself slide down the wall until he was sitting and Pete followed, landing in Patrick's lap. He tugged Pete’s head onto his shoulder and closed his eyes, and when Pete took a deep breath, Patrick couldn’t help but tense.
“That," Pete said, "was incredible."
Patrick peeked one eye open and looked up at him, but Pete was grinning. Patrick could feel his cheeks burning, but he didn't look away, watching as Pete bit his lip and blew out a shaky breath.
"Do you have any with lace?"