Will & Patrick Meet the Mob (14 page)

He lets go and sobs in happiness as Patrick layers swat after swat on his ass. It starts out stinging, but grows into a deep pain that burrows into his flesh, like Patrick has, until he can’t hold back the truth. He loves it. He loves
him
. He loves what they share together.

“Get on your hands and knees,” Patrick says thickly, his voice hoarse and burning with lust. Will does as he’s told, his chest heaving and his butt hot and sore. He looks over his shoulder to see Patrick roll on the condom he’s fished out of his wallet.

“It’s lubed, but it’ll still be rough,” Patrick warns.

“Okay.” Will’s breath hitches in excitement.

It
is
rough, and his hole burns at Patrick’s initial press in. Patrick pulls almost all the way back out immediately, spitting a gob of saliva onto his cock before pressing back in, then pulling out and doing it again. The spit helps, and soon Patrick’s fucking him hard and fast.

“You like this?” Patrick growls into Will’s ear as he pounds into him from behind. “Getting fucked like this? Like the horses, like dogs fuck.”

Will groans, his knees scraping against the rough blanket.

“Did you want that, Will? Did you see the barn dogs fuck, and wonder what it’d be like to be held down by a man and forced to rut like that?”

Will’s legs are shaking, and he’s so turned on he can’t see anything but flashes of blue light behind his eyes with each of Patrick’s ruthless thrusts. “Yes,” he gasps.

“Or was it the horses,” Patrick rasps into his ear. “A big cock slamming into you, taking it like a fucking mare.”

Will whimpers. His cock is so hard; he’s leaking copious amounts of precome, and the filthy things Patrick’s whispering into his ear are making him even hotter. It’s like Patrick’s opened a box of Will’s innermost secrets and is fucking them out into the open. It’s almost unbearable how hard his cock is, and how tight his balls feel as he tries to hold on and make it last a little longer, digging his fingers into the rough blankets, listening as Patrick puts voice to the filthy things Will’s imagined over the years and fucks Will through it.

As Patrick thrusts into him in a relentless rhythm, Will struggles in Patrick’s arms like he’s seen the animals do. The slap of their skin together and Will’s cries riles the horses below, and that, along with Patrick’s dirty talk, pulls him up to the edge of blowing his load when Patrick wraps his hand around Will’s throat. “Red means stop.”

“Green.”

He moves his other hand over Will’s mouth and nose, whispering, “Uh-uh-uh means stop.”

Patrick’s thrusts are wild and fast, and Will’s eyes roll up, his body coiling tighter and his balls aching until he explodes, coming without touching his cock. He convulses hard, and Patrick pulls his hands away, gripping Will’s jacket in handfuls. Another surge of orgasm blacks out Will’s sight, and he yells so loudly the horses whinny and Rufus barks and begins to howl. The orgasm keeps coming until Patrick shoves him against the rough blankets, covering him with his body and shooting into the condom with a sharp cry.

Will whimpers, reaching back to grip the taut flesh of Patrick’s hip and hold him inside his still clenching body. “Baby, don’t leave me.”

Patrick buries his nose in Will’s nape, huffing against his neck and kissing the backs of his ears. As the animals calm below them, they roll onto their sides, their chests heaving with exertion.

Shaking and disoriented, Will whimpers as Patrick pulls out. He isn’t surprised when a few seconds later he feels the stick of a needle and then Patrick’s satisfied grunt. “It’s good. Maybe Anastasia isn’t incompetent after all.”

Will sits up, his hole spasming and sore. He’s going to feel this fuck tomorrow. As he gets his pants up over his tender, still burning haunches, all the filthy things Patrick said as he fucked him flood his mind, and Will glances over, wondering if Patrick is going to judge him now, or be at all ashamed.

But Patrick’s tying off the condom and wiping at the sweat on his face like he hasn’t just fulfilled Will’s most filthy sexual fantasies. In fact, his expression when he meets Will’s eyes is full of his usual sated, post-sex tenderness. Will relaxes back down to the rough blanket, still panting.

“Was it all you dreamed it’d be?” Patrick gets his own pants up before collapsing next to Will, his voice still hoarse and strained. 

Will laughs, thinking of the sweet, tender lovemaking he’d imagined having with Ryan up here once upon a time, and he can’t even believe what he’s just done instead.

“You pretty much blew the top off my wildest fantasies.”

Patrick grins. “Good to hear.” His expression falters into something soft and vulnerable, and Will reaches out to touch his cheek. “And the ‘I love you’ was okay? Did I do it right?”

“It was perfect.”

Rolling onto his side, Patrick seeks out a kiss, and Will responds to it eagerly, giving him all the sweetness he has inside.

“You know, I think I have burns on my knees from these rough blankets,” he says, grinning as they break apart.

Patrick raises one eyebrow. “More sex injuries. I think you like them.”

He laughs. “I do.”

Patrick stands and holds out his hands to help Will to his feet. “We need to do something about these blankets.”

Will gathers up the top one that’s covered with his jizz. “I’ll take it back with us. Throw it out. They’ll never miss it.”

After they climb down, Will stops Patrick by the stable door and twines their fingers together. He smiles gently and tugs Patrick close, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s wiry frame and holding him, amazed as always at the way Patrick seems to vibrate with restrained energy.

“Thank you,” he finally whispers, kissing the curve of Patrick’s ear. “For coming here with me. For…for
that
. For saying those words. It made the fantasy more real.”

Patrick’s expression is delicate in a way that makes Will want to protect him from whatever’s hurting him inside. But Patrick only says, “You’re welcome. Now let’s get out of here before your uncle shows up with a shotgun.”

Will’s proud of himself that his plan to distract them both from all the crazy in their lives worked out, even if the particulars of the distraction ended up not being quite as wholesome as he’d originally imagined.

Wholesome
.

He snorts at the thought. The memory of what they’d done in the stable makes him flush so hard the roots of his hair sweat.

Patrick, of course, doesn’t seem embarrassed at all. “Look at you squirm. You loved it.”

Will
is
squirming, it’s true. He grips the wheel tightly and says nothing.

Patrick leans over and whispers, “Tell me what you liked best.”

Will doesn’t know where to start.
Every single thing.

“Let me guess, you liked me talking about fucking like horses.”

I liked you saying you loved me.

“Yeah, I liked that, but I don’t know. When I came and the horses and the dogs were howling and making noise, it felt like the whole barn was coming with me, and then when you did—it just felt big. Like we were part of something huge. Infinite.”

Patrick nods once, and Will’s cock is throbbing again.

“What about you?” His voice is raspy.

Patrick shifts in the passenger seat. “I liked it all.”

“Tell me one thing.”

“I liked the breath play.”

Will can practically feel the wave of heat from him. His voice sounds like sex itself, low and friction-heavy. “Yeah?”

Patrick’s eyes are intense. “Letting me control that. Feels amazing. To know you trust me.”

Will swallows, and he fights the urge to press the heel of his hand against his cock. He glances toward Patrick. “I do trust you.”

Patrick nods again, a sharp quick movement.

At the Tallgrass, Will brushes his teeth and tests himself, injecting the long-acting insulin before bed. His blood glucose numbers are fine, but he’s still shaking. His feelings for Patrick are growing out of control. Hearing Patrick say those three words for the sake of Will’s fantasy woke something in him, and it doesn’t feel like it’s going back to sleep. It’s familiar and addictive. It’s a yearning for more, and it’s so much like alcohol.

Sober up, Will.

He glares at himself in the mirror before spitting out his toothpaste.

When he crawls into bed, Patrick snaps closed the medical journal Will’s not convinced he was even reading. “We should talk.”

Will’s heart trips. “Okay.”

Patrick studies him for a long minute, his expression shifting through several different shades of vulnerability, before settling into his firm, doctor-knows-best expression. “You like breath play.”

“You said you like it too.”

“I do. But you have to understand, as a doctor, I know how long you can go without air before you pass out. I’ve seen your medical file from the ER and listened to your heart. I know the state of your cardiovascular system, and most importantly, I know CPR and exactly what to do if something goes wrong.”

Will pulls Patrick close, urging his tense form into their favorite position, and nuzzles his soft hair. “I know. Breath play is serious. But you never push the limits. It’s all mind games, really.”

Patrick is tense and still in his arms, and when he speaks it’s with a quiet urgency. “Are you ever going to do this with someone else?”

Will shakes his head. The idea of letting someone who isn’t Patrick do that feels unfathomable to him. Ryan wouldn’t want to, not in a million years, and Will can’t imagine a future where some nameless, faceless person wins his trust enough for Will to let him control his breath. “No. Just you.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It’s a promise.”

It’s an easy vow to make, and Patrick relaxes, seemingly satisfied by it. After the lights are out and they’re snuggled close again, Patrick makes a few noises like he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t. Will strokes his back lightly until his light snores rise up, making Will sleepy too.

In Will’s dreams, horses and dogs run across the pastures of the farm, neighing, baying, and barking so loud he covers his ears. The fury of their hooves and paws and the endless rumble of their noises shakes the earth, and the winter-dead ground splits into furrows. Will struggles to stand as the vibration from the ruckus of the animals rattles everything around him. He watches in awe as, in the wake of the animals’ stampede, green, new shoots break through the brown dirt.
 

The next morning, Patrick lingers by the newly installed machines in the second floor hallway. Staring at the assortment of junk food on offer, he tries to convince himself that choosing between a Hostess Cupcake and a package of Animal Crackers is really a challenge. But the truth is he’s avoiding returning to their room.

The night before, he’d told Will he loves him. He’d thought he’d found the perfect moment in the barn, a moment Will had described as being part of his ultimate fantasy, and he’d thought Will had understood. He’d called it ‘perfect,’ and Patrick had felt his heart crack open with a hope he’s never known before. Sure, Will hadn’t said the words back, but he’d been so excited and then blissed-out Patrick had been satisfied with his reaction.

But when Will had thanked him, Patrick had realized the truth:
Will thinks the declaration is only part of the fantasy, to make it better, and more real for him
. It’d been deflating. Even after all they did in the barn, he’s no closer to emotional transparency with Will than he was after he’d talked to Jenny yesterday.

Stupid biochemicals making him feel this way. Why can’t they be logical? Love is brutal and pointless. But it doesn’t matter. He’s not fighting it anymore. He wants Will, so he has to find a new way to confess he’s balls-out in love. With a capital-L and a lot of terrified certainty.

He lets his finger linger over the A6 for the Hostess Cupcake. He thinks Jenny might be wrong, and the “Oh, hey, I love you,” approach is probably the most clear-cut and least confusing for everyone. He can just march back into their room, interrupt Will’s morning routine, and say the words. And Will would…say what? A cold dread slides down his spine.

He moves his finger to the D8 for the Animal Crackers.

If only he had a skull he could crack into, he could lose himself in the intensity of surgery, and catch a breath. If wishes were changes…

“Buck up, buckaroo,” Patrick mutters to himself, giving up and turning away from the vending machine empty handed. He’s about to duck into the stairwell back up to his floor when the hotel room by the elevator opens and Kimberly sneaks out, shutting the door carefully behind her, looking rumpled and entirely well-fucked.

Patrick really can’t blame her, though he thinks Will would.

She spots him and her face falls. “Dr. McCloud,” she says stiffly, walking toward the elevator and buttoning up her long, suede coat.

He lifts his hand in a cheery wave. “Molinaro men, huh?” he says. “Irresistible.”

Kimberly cuts a lethal glance his way. “Don’t tell Will you saw me. Please.” She jams her finger at the down button for the elevator and then smooths her hair. She’s makeup-less and looks fragile and younger. “I know we aren’t on good terms, but this will only hurt him.”

“Then why do it?”

She huffs a self-deprecating laugh. “Can you honestly say you don’t understand?”

“No. I do understand.”

Kimberly turns to him, crossing her arms and darting a glance toward the door she came out of. “I love Tony but I can’t be his wife, or his girlfriend, or anything other than this.”

Patrick nods and walks toward her. He presses the up button, and they stare at each other for a few seconds.

“You remind me of Tony.”

Patrick sputters. He can’t fathom how. “Because I save lives instead of taking them?”

“You both know what you want and you’re determined to get it. The way Will has changed since he met you…” Kimberly’s elevator arrives and she reaches out to hold the door, but then lets it go. “When I met Tony, I changed too. I ignored my mother’s advice and my brother’s opinion, and I did what felt right.”

Next Patrick’s elevator arrives, and he waves at it. “That’s me.” But Kimberly just stares at him, and Patrick’s feet don’t move. The elevator doors close, and he doesn’t jam the button again.

“I got pregnant with Will and I thought things were going to be perfect. But my world fell apart when Tony got into the life.” She pushes her hair over her shoulder, her mouth turning down at the edges. “Lust is so powerful, and when it’s mixed with love, it’s unstoppable.”

“Okay. Why are you telling me this?”

“Do you love my son?”

“That’s between me and your son.”

Kimberly’s blue eyes are tired. “Tony believes Will’s happier than he’s ever been. He thinks you’re the reason for that.”

Patrick shifts to his other foot and keeps his hand still. “Will’s happiness is important to me.”

“I believe that.” She smiles gently, letting her eyes drift to the hotel room door. “Tony can’t be the man I need, but maybe you’re the man Will needs.”

“I—we—he—” Patrick’s mouth won’t make the words. He doesn’t even know what he wants to say.

Kimberly presses the elevator call button again and the door slides open immediately. “Consider this my blessing for you to pursue whatever it is you’re going to pursue with my son. Not that you need it, but in case you want it.” Her eyes take on a wry amusement. “Oh, and please don’t post about this conversation on
The Hurting Times
, Dr. HottieMcBrainSurgeon.”

She flashes a real smile as the elevator doors close on her soft, morning-after beauty, and he’s too startled to smile back.

He turns toward the stairwell again, thinking Healing and its occupants are full of never-ending surprises, and maybe he actually likes surprises.

“Not so fast.” Tony leans against the doorjamb, his dark hair standing up everywhere, wearing low-slung track pants and no shirt. Patrick rolls his eyes, annoyed to now know that this is where Will gets his sexy chest hair from.

“I hope that little conversation with my woman went well.”

“Your woman. How touchingly sexist.”

“Kimberly’s promised to be more open to the idea of you now that I’ve explained to her you’re the key to Will’s happiness and sobriety.”

“And you explained it to her how? With your penis?”

Tony smirks. “Yes. And my mouth.”

Patrick knows he brought this on himself, but he holds his hands up like a shield, turning his face away. “Stop. No.”

Tony laughs and opens the door wider. “Come in. There are things we need to discuss.”

“I’ll take a pass.”

Tony sighs, reaching into the room and grabbing a white, v-necked T-shirt. He pulls it on. “All right, we can talk it over here in the hallway if you’re more comfortable.”

“Will’s waiting for me upstairs.” Patrick jerks his thumb toward the stairwell. “I should go. To preserve his happiness. You know how it is.”

“I wanted to tell you I’ve considered my son’s offer and, as I’ve said multiple times, his happiness is all that matters to me. If making the Hammond lawsuit go away makes him happy, then consider that done.”

Patrick darts his eyes back and forth, looking for the catch. “So I can practice again?”

“You should get a call today.”

“Oh. Well. Good.”

Tony’s thick brows quirk. “I don’t get a thank you?”

“Since you set it up to begin with? No.”

Tony laughs again and runs his hand through his already messy hair. “I like you. I hope my son doesn’t screw this up.”

Patrick doesn’t know what to say to that, so he turns toward the stairwell.

“Tell my son goodbye from me. I don’t think he particularly wants to see me and I’m trying to respect his wishes. For now.”

Patrick pauses in his retreat. “You’re leaving?”

“Within the hour.”

“Oh.” He scratches at his nose. “You know, there’s one thing I’m curious about.”

“Hit me.”

Patrick rubs his fingers against his pant leg. “If Will’s happiness is so important to you, how could you let him stay with that asshole Ryan for so long?”