The Broken Triangle (37 page)

“It’s great publicity,”
Shelly had pointed out.
“We can ask the paper to cover it. They’ll probably go on to a club after we close, but if we can keep them here for more than a round or two, the way they’ll be drinking…ka-ching.”

“Ka-ching? Thought women were romantic and went gooey over weddings.”
Shane had shaken his head, giving in as Shelly glared at him.
“Fine. Do it. But you’re clearing up the mess when they go.”

In the end, they’d all pitched in at closing, and it hadn’t taken long to pop the balloons and pull down the streamers, though the floor was going to need a second mopping in the morning. Vin had enjoyed seeing Rick and Craig’s exuberance as they celebrated. They’d pretty much been poured out the door after drinking a few too many of the cocktail Patrick had invented in their honor.

Patrick drained his glass and put it in the sink. “Want to get an early night?”

“I want to go to bed.” Vin sent him a sidelong look. “Not the same thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Patrick had taken to spending the night more often than not, and Vin had emptied out a drawer for him so he could keep a few clothes there. They’d found a leather bag at a secondhand store—Patrick had replaced his old shopping habits with a different one he called “treasure hunting,” to the point where he’d made friends with a few of the local store owners—and he used to it bring things back and forth. They did stay at Patrick’s occasionally, and sometimes they spent the night apart, but it felt wrong to Vin now, and he’d been formulating a plan he was going to share with Patrick when it seemed like the time was right.

They stood companionably in the bathroom, side by side, brushing their teeth. Vin leaned down to spit, then rinsed out his mouth and said, “Take out your contacts?”

“I won’t be able to see if I do,” Patrick said.

“Your glasses are in your bag. You can wear those. Please?”

Patrick wiped his mouth and stuck his toothbrush under the faucet. “Not fair. You know I can’t resist when you ask nicely.”

“Maybe,” Vin agreed. “But you can still say no, if you don’t want to. You can always say no.” He worried sometimes that a lot of the things Patrick had done before they got together had been because Patrick didn’t want to say no.

“Saying no to you wouldn’t make sense. You never ask me to do anything I don’t want to do.” Patrick gave him a shrewd glance. “Do I need to give you the talk about believing me when I say the sex is out of this world again? Because it is.”

“When we’re making love, I know that. When I’m thinking about what I want to do with you, I sometimes step back and think, wow, I must seem like a total freak.”

“Are you kidding me?” Patrick shoved his toothbrush into the mug with such force it fell over, luckily not breaking. He poked Vin’s chest hard with his finger. “You know how you hate me calling myself a slut? Well, I hate you calling yourself that. In case you hadn’t noticed, there’re two of us in that bed, so that makes both of us freaks, and I
will
say no to you putting that label on me.”

Indignant, ruffled Patrick made Vin’s chest go tight with love for some reason.

“I’m sorry. I just… Last time I thought I’d gone too far.”

“Yeah, me close to passing out when I came because it was so good had to have been a real red flag.” Patrick tossed his head, then gave a terse huff and bent to take out his contacts, straightening a moment later and blinking around the room. The unfocused gaze made him look vulnerable. Vin didn’t like that particularly, though it roused his protective instincts, but he got off on having Patrick in bed with him unable to see beyond a few feet, Vin the only clear object in his view, his glasses resting on the bedside table.

He brushed his fingers under Patrick’s eyes, a light, slow caress. “Thank you.”

“If you don’t want me to see, you could blindfold me.”

Vin shook his head, though he could tell the idea intrigued Patrick. “I’d just tell you to close your eyes. Much easier. Then I could see if you cheated.”

“If I had a blindfold on, it wouldn’t matter if I cheated.”

“It’d matter to me.”

“Everything matters to you, Mr. Perfectionist.” Patrick tilted his head back, offering his mouth for a kiss that Vin gave readily, though they both tasted of toothpaste. The harsh blast of mint would fade soon, and he’d get to taste Patrick.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

Patrick let himself be led to the bedroom, where they both undressed. Then Vin pushed Patrick down onto the mattress and kissed him some more. They hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights, so it was pleasantly dark.

“You know how much I love you?” Patrick asked.

“How much?” Vin rubbed his thumb over Patrick’s lower lip.

“A lot. Some really huge number.” Patrick hesitated, then said, “Can we do something new? Would that be okay?”

“Sure. What do you want to do?”

Patrick rolled them so he was on top and slid down until he was face-to-face with Vin’s cock. “I kind of thought I’d start here.”

“That’s not new,” Vin said, then gasped as Patrick’s mouth closed hotly around the tip of him. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Every time they went to bed together, Vin was shocked all over again at how good Patrick was at, well, everything, but especially sucking his cock. Not that he had a lot of guys to compare Patrick to—which was fine; he was okay with his life choices. He was even okay with the choices Patrick had made: he loved Patrick for who he was, and that included his past. But with Patrick’s lips and tongue teasing at him, most of his ability for conscious thought fled, leaving him trembling and moaning and sometimes grasping at Patrick’s hair a little more roughly than he should.

“You’re so good at that.” Vin closed his eyes and concentrated on the amazing suction, then the feel of Patrick’s tongue licking down his shaft and across his balls. Then lower, to his— “God!”

Patrick was too busy to reply in words, and if it meant stopping what he was doing, Vin didn’t want him to, but he patted Vin’s thigh reassuringly.

The wet softness of Patrick’s tongue continued to lap at Vin’s hole, a maddeningly perfect sensation, ticklish, yes, but Vin loved it. He rolled his hips up, mutely begging for more, and Patrick obliged, using both thumbs to spread Vin’s hole wide enough for the first shallow thrust of his tongue.

“You’re killing me here,” Vin said, the words separated by gasps as he fought to stay still and not grind down. “Feels incredible.”

“Going to do this to you for as long as you can take it,” Patrick said, his voice muffled. He turned his head and gave Vin’s inner thigh a nip from his teeth. “Roll over and grab a pillow. Yeah, under your hips. That’s it.” He planted a playful smooch on Vin’s ass cheek. “Get comfortable, honey, because I learned from the best how to make the good times last.”

Vin was already tense with anticipation as he shifted his weight for Patrick’s guiding hands. The soft, warm touch of Patrick’s tongue was like nothing he’d ever felt before; he couldn’t stop shaking. His cock was impossibly hard, and his hips shifted restlessly. The flicker of Patrick’s tongue was driving him crazy. When Patrick stroked and teased his hole with a finger slick with spit or lube, he felt no apprehension. He knew Patrick wouldn’t hurt him, and what was more, he wanted it. Patrick’s finger inside him would relieve the ache he felt.

“Same rules for you,” Patrick said, his voice a murmur threading through the gasped breaths Vin took. “You want me to stop, I will.”

“Are you going to fuck me?”

He heard Patrick exhale, slow and long. “I wasn’t planning on going that far.”

“Go there,” Vin said, reckless but trusting Patrick. “I want to try it.”

“You didn’t like it before. You don’t have to change your mind about that. I love being fucked by you too much to care if it turns out you hate it.”

“I might ask you to stop,” Vin admitted, giving Patrick the truth the way he always had. “Right now, I want you in me like you wouldn’t believe, but if it hurts and I tense up—”

Patrick chuckled. “After what I just did, you’re as tense as a bowl of pudding, sweetie. Listen, I won’t hurt you, I won’t rush you, and I will stop whenever you tell me. And if I’m balls-deep when you say it, I’ll pull out slowly because any other way would not be a good idea, so don’t panic and think I didn’t hear you, okay?”

Talking meant Patrick had stopped fingering Vin’s ass. He’d needed to hear what Patrick had to say, but Vin wanted to get back to what they’d been doing. Without consciously deciding to do it, he spread his legs a little wider, opening up to Patrick and feeling a delicious throb of anticipation. “Okay.”

“Then let me get what we need, and I’ll show you why I always howl at the moon when you’re inside me.”

Vin waited, closing his eyes as a drawer slid open and Patrick fumbled inside for lube and a condom. He didn’t feel nervous. Everything with Patrick was different from his experiences with Riley. Those few months seemed distant now, like faded copies that each day he spent with Patrick painted over with vivid splashes of color, layer after layer.

He hadn’t forgotten Riley, but he didn’t miss him. The loss of the habit of loving Riley hurt more than the loss of Riley himself. And it was a rapidly healing wound.

“Still with me?” Patrick asked, kissing Vin between the shoulders, then an inch lower, light kisses trailing down Vin’s back until they reached the upward curve of his ass. “Vin?”

“Yeah. I’m ready.” He groaned as Patrick’s tongue flickered over his hole again. “God, I want you to.”

“Okay, but it’s going to be slow. Really slow.” Slick fingers smeared lube where it was needed. “And don’t you dare keep quiet if it hurts, do you hear me? I’m serious. I’d rather never do this than hurt you.”

“I hear you.” Vin had done some reading and learned not every guy was into bottoming. Possibly he was one of them, but until he tried, he’d never be sure.

Patrick got up close behind him, and Vin felt the blunt end of Patrick’s cock pushing at him. He waited for the sudden thrust, and waited, but it didn’t come. Patrick’s dick was just there, stretching his hole. “Okay?” Patrick asked, stroking a hand along his thigh.

“Yeah. You’re not—” Vin had been about to say that Patrick wasn’t doing anything yet, but suddenly a tension he hadn’t realized was there disappeared, and Patrick’s cock went deeper into him. He gasped a little in surprise, and Patrick froze. “No, I’m okay. It’s good. It feels good.”

Patrick kissed his back; Vin could feel him shaking. “You feel so fucking good, you have no idea.”

Vin closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of Patrick inside him, slowly thrusting. The pressure on his prostate was nice. The sensation of being stretched open was weird, but it didn’t hurt—a tiny amount of discomfort, but nothing more. Even though Patrick was moving carefully, Vin could tell he was getting into it by the soft moans and the clutch of Patrick’s hand on his hip.

“Still okay?” Patrick asked.

“Oh yeah. Stop talking now?”

Telling Patrick what to do in bed was too familiar, that order in particular, for Vin to give it a second thought, and judging by the distracted grunt he got in reply, Patrick felt the same way. Without needing to reassure Patrick, Vin could concentrate on what was being done to him. Inch by inch, gaining, then ceding ground, Patrick eased inside him, moving as slowly as Vin would’ve done if it’d been him fucking Patrick. He knew how the hot, slick clench of flesh felt against his cock, and he envied Patrick that feeling. His cock was squashed into the pillow, able to rub against the cotton, sure, but he missed the sensation of being welcomed into Patrick’s body, the forceful ripple of inner muscles like a caress.

Once Patrick could pull back until only the head of his cock was inside Vin, then thrust forward without stopping, he settled into a rhythm, quicker than Vin would’ve chosen, but nothing like the hurried slams Riley had inflicted on him.

At ease, enjoying himself in a mild way, Vin waited for it to get so good he was whimpering, the way Patrick did. He wasn’t inhibited when it came to vocalizing his pleasure, and Vin, shyer at first, had learned to let go. The throaty moans Patrick gave, the openmouthed, panted-out pleas and encouragement, turned Vin on so much that he wanted to add to them. He might blush afterward, hearing the echo of his cries and groans, but he didn’t let that stop him from making them.

Thrust after thrust, harder now, but still causing Vin no pain, just a stab of pleasure when Patrick hit his sweet spot. All good, all fine.

Just not spectacular.

Biting his lip, Vin tried to be less passive, meeting Patrick’s stroke instead of waiting for it, tightening his muscles when it seemed like the right moment to do that and relaxing when it didn’t.

“Oh God.” Patrick paused, shaking, then eased back, tugging on Vin’s hips. “Can you get on your knees? Yeah. Is this okay? Can I touch you?”

In response, because Vin didn’t feel like talking, he reached for Patrick’s hand and brought it down to his cock. Patrick’s hand was still a tiny bit sticky from the lube, and Vin’s dick was damp with sweat and the growing arousal that had been building again since this had started. Patrick thrust forward, and his hand stroked Vin’s cock, staying up near the head where Vin liked it best.

There, that was what he needed. He wasn’t on edge, not yet, but the combination of Patrick’s cock moving inside him and Patrick’s hand squeezed tight around his erection was more than enough to take him there. Vin let his head hang down, weight resting on his arms, each snap of Patrick’s hips telling him how into this Patrick was getting.

“You’re so good,” Patrick said. “God, I’m so close. Love you so much.”

Vin focused, narrowing all his attention onto the physical pleasure and imagining it was Patrick’s ass instead of his hand working tight around his cock, so that just before Patrick cried out and started to come, he was coming too, shuddering and pulsing and laughing all at the same time.

Patrick clung to him until they’d recovered, then eased out and disposed of the condom before lying down. Vin, who’d shoved the pillow with the wet spot off the bed onto the floor, was still grinning like an idiot when Patrick kissed him.