62There were only a few hours left before dawn.
It was a night I would look back and reflect on for the rest of my life. The smell of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and leather perfumed the old truck. We were parked at the start of my driveway, the engine and headlights turned off. My home's familiar facade seemed to fade into the dark of night like a painting... An imposing wall, a mere picture of a painted house.
And, I was just another hazy semblance, sitting slumped against the shoulder of one of my best friends.
Both of us had been drinking... It was our new routine. There was only one problem.
Just alcohol wasn't enough for Patrick anymore...Bright pills and tablets from three separate bottles. He had taken a little of this and a little of that. To this day, I have only a vague idea of the potent cocktail of uppers and downers burning through his bloodstream.
We had driven to what my mom once dubbed "the wrong side of the tracks" just to get them.
When I asked what exactly the pills would do Patrick dimly replied with: "They make you forget."
That didn't tell me much, but... I knew a lot about that whole "wanting to forget" business. Lately, Patrick had changed. Since the day he broke up with Brad, Patrick had not been the same. Something cruel and dark had shifted into his view of the world. A disquieting glint had taken residence in his eyes. He walked and talked like Patrick, except he wasn't. Whenever I was around him, I could feel it. The charge in the air before lightning strikes.
But beneath it all, there was something painful Sam and I pretended not to see.
I missed the Old Patrick. Maybe that's why I barely objected to the drugs. I watched as Patrick popped a few of his magic pills.
Almost instantly, he was better. More like the old Patrick (from before he had his heart broken by Brad).
They really were magic.
I could finally relax around him. It was just like the old days...
For a while at least. They wore off sooner than he would have liked.
After only a few hours, it showed on his face. Split between rage and grief, he decided it was for the best to drink a little. To make them last longer, he said.
If he had just a little, it wouldn't be a big deal, right?
Sometime in between his 7th and 8th beer, I saw Patrick swallow down more little pills like they were candy. After that, he became pretty strange, rambling on about phonies and mob theory.
But, I didn't mind.
The fuzzy haze that overtakes your brain when you drink had already claimed me. If I hadn't been drinking as well, I might have been more concerned... If I hadn't already blacked out twice that night, I might have seen it coming.
Right now, I wasn't even sure how we made it to my house alive. We just sat there in silence. The angry stream-of-conscious babbling had run out long before I came to. He probably stopped when he realized I was out.
For a while, I sat leaning against his shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep.
Something cold and wet trickled into my ear, irritating enough to wake me up. I straightened my head, lifting a hand up to rub at it of habit. I looked over at Patrick in mild annoyance, wondering if he had fallen asleep and begun drooling.
Minutes passed. I just sat there looking at him. Silent and watching, like my brain couldn't process the image my eyes were sending to it.
He wasn't sleeping, but I wished he was. And I wished it was drool that trickled down onto my face.
What a stupid thing to think.
"Charlie, don't look at me right now, I..." He paused, wiping furiously at his blood-shot eyes. "Don't want you seeing me like this, OK?"
Cold was starting to seep into the truck. I asked him if he wanted me to leave, but he just shook his head...
"You probably want to leave right now, though. Can't say I blame you."
"That's not it." I made a weird gesture in front of me as if it would help him understand. "I just don't know what...er, how to really..."
I don't know how to help you.
He laughed a little at my awkwardness and looked down at his knees. "Just stay here with me a bit longer..."
Relief flooded me. He knew what I meant. Patrick always knew what I meant.
He rubbed at his eyes again and gave a sad, shuttering sigh. "I'm a little fucked up right now."
"In more ways than one." I tried to make a joke, but he didn't laugh, just stared down at his knees. His tears slipped silently down his face; they left dark spots on his jeans.
Even in the black of the night, I could see a fine tremor in his hands from where they were balled into fists on his knees.
Without really thinking too much about it, my hand found his and squeezed.
It was something my mom always did when my dad looked upset.
He looked at me, startled out of some reverie. I smiled and started to let go right when he squeezed back.
And there we were. Just two guys holding hands like idiots. Him strung out on uppers and downers and weed and alcohol. Me, barely awake and hung-over with the taste of vomit burning in the back of my throat.
His lips morphed into a sad smile. "Thanks, Charlie. For staying..." He squeezed my hand again.
I nodded and felt heat rise in my cheeks and neck. I was probably still a little drunk.
Patrick let go of my hand and I felt his arm slowly wind its way around my shoulders. It didn't take long for me to melt into his warm side. My head tilted against his shoulder and I felt like I could fall asleep. It was too late and I felt too tired...
The hand gripping my upper arm shifted to settle in my hair. He ruffled it fast and hard, like my older brother sometimes did. I mumbled my displeasure and shoved my face into his chest to get away from it. That's when I noticed that Patrick seemed to tense up. His hand froze in place, fingers still entwined in my hair.
A moment passed in silence. He tried to remove his hand, tugging on a myriad of knots (that he had just made) in the process.
"Nngh..." I mumbled, sleepily, trying to communicate that it hurt.
Patrick's hand stilled for a moment, along with the rest of his tense frame. I wished he would relax a bit, like before. It was more comfortable before.
He cleared his throat. "Sorry... I'm kind of tangled in your rat's nest."
"Leave it." I sighed, nuzzling my head around to find that one, perfect, comfortable spot...
I could hear him inhale sharply and his hand brushed by mine. I looked down, shock slowly settling into the forefront of my semi-conscious mind. Heat rushed into my face.
When did I rest my hand on his upper thigh? I could almost touch the car seat between his legs. I was almost touching...
As if noticing the sudden onslaught of attention, my hand twitched reflexively on his thigh like it had a mind of its own. Patrick's chest rose and fell more quickly than before.
The hand he had tangled in my hair moved again, gently this time. The waves of embarrassment seemed to recede and I felt myself relax back into him, forgetting all about the awkward position I had left my hand in. He guided my face back into that perfect spot, still weaving his fingers through my hair.
It felt kind of nice...
I sighed and closed my eyes. Really nice, actually.
Sometime later, he tugged on my hair, just enough to get my attention. I looked up at him and knew by his expression that he had been watching me. He stared directly into my eyes, a pretty serious look on his face, as if he was debating something.
A long moment passed.
"Do you want me to go?" I asked, a little confused and foggy with sleep.
His hand gripped my hair and pulled my head back a little. It swung like a door on a hinge. No resistance at all.
My throat lay bare and exposed before him. An involuntary shiver ran through the length of my spine.
"I-it's getting late..." I said, feeling oddly vulnerable. Patrick could hear it in my voice. His every breath broke against my neck like puffs of smoke, hot and dissipating. My heart skipped a beat as he leaned closer.
Some strange, ticklish bolt shot through my core as his lips softly touched the side of my neck. It quaked and wriggled like a snake when something hot and wet darted out.
Slowly, it dawned upon me. Ah, it's his tongue...He's kissing me...?
Teeth nicking sharply against my flesh as he sucked on my pulse line, more forcefully than before.
In a flash of hot embarrassment, I realized that my mouth was wide open, panting. My chest rose and fell quickly as I fought to decide whether this was a good or a bad thing that was happening.
My mind was distracted by the hand that crawled up my sweater, under the t-shirt I always wore, stroking my chest, ribs, and brushing by my nipples... Patrick's hot breathe in my ear sent shivers down my body.
His hand drifted down my flank, scraping the lowest part of my stomach where my jeans just began.
"Charlie," he breathed. Lips landing on my own. His hot breath and tongue found their way inside me, plundering my mouth.
Wet, liquid heat. Our saliva mixed and I knew that my face was red-hot. I had never kissed anyone like this before. I had never been kissed like this before. It was...
Good.
Really good.
And I struggled to keep up. The bolts of pleasure running down my spine were too much, I had to move. My body responded by instinct alone, squirming under him. Pushing for more contact until we were chest to chest. My tongue met his and I moaned as he sucked it languidly. It slid, slid, slid right into him, curling up into the roof of his mouth.
Patrick's deep, throaty grunt reverberated throughout my body. I was dimly aware of his hand sinking lower.
When his hand slipped beneath my boxers, I broke the kiss panting hard. He had me in his hand. A firm squeeze later and I was already gone.
Patrick watched, eyes lidded, still with that serious expression. He ducked down to kiss the corner of my moaning mouth, but all my attention was absorbed with the hand gripping me, palming me, and working the soft flesh there into something hard and pulsing.
It felt so different from my own hand. My will to stop him had completely abated.
His hot, rough grip retreated for a moment, pleasure fading with it as I took on a throbbing pulse. It was almost painful. I stared up into Patrick's face. He was smirking, even as he brought his hand up to his mouth and licked. I watched, speechless as he lowered the slick hand back into my boxers. He gripped me, pumping agonizingly slowly with the slicked hand. I was almost at my limits when his index finger found my weeping slit and rubbed.
"P-Paatrick!" I exclaimed in surprise.
He ducked his head down into the crook of my neck, laughing and stroking at the same time. Up and down and twisting, faster and faster. My hips had taken on a life of their own as they rose to meet him.
By now I was breathing like I was running a marathon.
Closer and closer to the finish line...
"Nnngh!"
Patrick nuzzled my cheek. He had been watching my reactions intently the whole time. "Charlie..." He said in a low, husky voice. "I wish you could see the face you're making right now." His voice reverberated against my neck and I swallowed thickly, only able to moan in response...
"More?" He laughed into my ear, as his hand picked up speed. His teeth caught my ear lobe, lightly nibbling, sucking, licking...
Oh...
Please...
Don't...
Stop....
Like a mantra in my head, it was the only thing I could coherently think.
Patrick turned his head sharply to stare at me with a face full of surprised arousal.
Had I been saying it out loud?
I reached up and tugged roughly on his belt. When that failed to accomplish anything... I cupped the rock hard protrusion in his pants rubbing furiously through his jeans. A deep moan passed through his lips... And he worked his belt loose, unbuttoning and unzipping it with one hand. Then, he guided my hand to his lips. Taking each finger into his mouth and sucking.
Laving my palm with hot saliva...
He broke away and stared down in amusement.
"Your twitching in my hand... I can feel it." He gave a hard tug on my dick to emphasize the point... This time, I no longer cared that my whole body flushed under his scrutiny, that I was panting, and squirming beneath him.
Patrick looked like he was about to throw me down and make me beg.
My hand slipped into his boxers, trying to mimic the agonizingly slow strokes he now made. I'll drive you crazy with me...
He turned to kiss me roughly, cradling my head in his arm. Between the seat and Patrick, there was nowhere to move, no way to extract myself from the addictive, writhing pleasure radiating from the epicenter of my groin. In no time, his hand had picked up speed. I did the same, twisting and jerking roughly as he moaned into my mouth. Every sound reverberated deep within me, drawing me closer and closer to the brink.
My clothing clung to me... I wished they were gone. Patrick had pulled my body almost entirely into his lap when the beat-up car-seat finally gave out, flying straight back into the rear window of the truck.
I sat straddling his thighs, forehead pressed against his neck as he moved faster and faster...
I couldn't even breathe...
Thrusting into his hand, I came loudly, the sound of my groan barely muffled. I almost screamed when his hand moved again, pumping the last of the orgasm out of me, painfully drawing the last drops of pleasure from my body.
My knees quivered like jello. If I had been standing, I would have collapsed a long time ago. For a few minutes, I just stayed there. Pressed against him, slowly catching my breath and coming down from the mind-tingling, mind-numbing orgasm he had just given me... He pushed against my shoulder, signaling me to move back. I sat up, realizing that my own hand had was locked like a vice around his throbbing cock. His shirt, gleamed in the dim light where my cum had shot out. He was breathing just as hard as I had been.
"Damn, that was the sexiest thing I've ever seen, Charlie... Who would have thought?"
He tried to laugh, but it was strained.
I leaned forward and sloppily kissed him, moaning with reckless abandon into his open mouth. My hand began to move across his slick cock. It was practically dripping, making a squishing, squelching sound in the silent truck. I was half-hard all over again, just from hearing it.
It sounded like sex. Like sex should sound. Looking down at Patrick, I realized that I was practically drooling at the site of him. Head tossed back, eyes screwed shut, mouth gasping for air.
Almost like he was in pain...
He bit his lip and moaned.
I was transfixed by the pearly white teeth peeping through his red, swollen lips. Like this, Patrick looked beautiful, more beautiful than any woman I've ever seen... I twisted my hand, just to see him gasp. Rubbed against the slit of his weeping dick just to see him open his eyes and gaze up at me in a wordless groan. Vaguely, I realized that I was hard and throbbing again.
In a moment of impulsiveness, I did something I have never done before...
Crushed up against his legs, with the steering wheel digging painfully into my lower back, I was now at eye level with Patrick's gleaming erection. In pure, silent shock, he stared down at me. I looked up at him, probably wearing the same smirk he had before, and licked the pearl of pre-cum from the tip of his pulsing dick. He threw his head back into the seat, mouth forming an 'o' as he groaned. A fist twisted into my hair. It wasn't long before I found myself bobbing down on, sucking, and stroking Patrick.
Patrick, my first friend in high school. Someone I never had to pretend for. The one who always understood me. Who, along with Sam, made me feel alive and a part of the world. I loved them. Pure and simple.
They meant the world to me. If I lost them, I didn't know what I would do. I'd probably just give up altogether. Quit. Succumb to the darkness of my nightmares, (nightmares that couldn't be real, because the people you love and trust aren't supposed to hurt you like that)... My mind would shatter into a million tiny, unforgiving pieces...
No, never. Not as long as I had Sam and Patrick. My best friends. My important people. My anti-nightmare solution.
The sobering thought washed through my head like a flood. And that's when the doubt began to spread.
Patrick's hand in my hair tightened almost painfully. I gagged hollowly, throat squeezing around him.
What am I doing?
Did best friends do this?
What would...Sam think...if she knew?
I love them, but now...
Will I lose them?
TBC
A/N:Okay... So this was probably a gigantic OOC fail, but...What did you think? lol. Let me know if I should fix it or keep going... Tell me if I'm completely depraved and this pairing doesn't work at all... If anyone out there is a beta reader and doesn't mind slash, I would absolutely love a PM. Help me finish this, because right now it's not coming (hahahah) to a natural conclusion. Actually (if I had my way) it would be escalating to full blown SEX. So, yeah. Clearly I need a little perspective (imagine how crazy/unrealistic it would be if they just randomly did it). HELP ME WITH MY PLOT! Because plot bunnies are RAVISHING each other in my head. LOL
UPDATE 4/7/13: I'm such a dick for not posting a new chapter. So many lovely people have offered to be my beta! Enough to make a gal cry! And you'll all be happy to know that I've started to write the next chapter. Crap kept getting in my way (graduating from college, studying for and taking a licensure exam, getting hired...). All that real life crap that gets in the way of my awesome smutty daydreams. Now that things have settled down, the plot bunnies have been raping my mind once again. Expect a new chapter soon! You've all said such encouraging things to me, so the next one is dedicated to everyone who said to keep going!
I switched up the ending a bit because I want you guys to get the sense that Charlie is caught between trying to make things go back to the way they were, filling a void in Patrick's heart, and expressing his love and appreciation for his friendship.