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When Patrick visits, Tashi drags them both to a rave in the city. Art’s been to them with her before, and it’s really something to behold: Tashi, lost in the music like she only ever is on the court, twisting and pulsing with the beat.
Patrick brings molly, because of course he does.
“It’s a Friday, Art!” Patrick whines. They wormed their way past the bouncer with their shitty fakes and Art finds himself, Tashi, and Patrick in the middle of the crowd. “You’re only 18 in San Francisco once!”
“Shout that a little louder, why don’t you.” Tashi drawls, and Patrick shoots her a wicked smirk, opening his mouth to the challenge. Art rolls his eyes and smacks a hand over his mouth. Patrick’s eyes are mirthful, and really Art should’ve expected it when Patrick’s tongue licks a stripe up his palm.
“Mature, Pat.” Art deadpans, wiping his hand on Patrick’s already sweaty shirt. Patrick winks and lets him, and Art has to focus on Tashi to ignore what that does to his insides.
“Anyway.” Patrick says, smiling with teeth, “Molly.”
Tashi shakes her head. “I’ve been taking shots. Can’t mix that with molly.”
Patrick nods, and turns to Art with puppy dog eyes, because he knows Art is stone-cold sober. Alcohol is disgusting, okay? Being drunk is fun, but not worth the rancid taste.
Art eyes the clear capsule Patrick is subtly offering to him, the crystals inside glinting enticingly. Art sags a little and pops it into his mouth, washing it down with their shared water bottle.
“Hell yes!” Patrick cheers, knocking back his own pill. Art smiles a little and a warm feeling takes up in his chest. He ignores that it’s too soon to be the molly kicking in.
The DJs switch, and a dark-skinned girl starts playing a heavy beat. The crowd is reacting, pulsing with the music, and Art can’t take his eyes off Tashi in front of him. Her eyes are closed, and her dark hair is swaying to the music. Sweat plasters her baby hairs to her forehead and Art swears she’s never looked so beautiful.
Patrick’s hands slide onto Art’s waist, and he very deliberately does not startle. Patrick is touchy. This is normal. What’s not normal is him leaning forward, breath hot in Art’s ear, to whisper something.
“Eyeing up my girlfriend, are we Artie?” Patrick’s voice is low and gravelly, and Art can smell the weed they smoked earlier on his breath.
This does make Art freeze a little, eyes going wide like a deer caught in headlights.
“Uh-“ Art says, eloquently. “No, just spacing out.”
He thinks it’s a pretty good excuse, after all, it’s after midnight and they’ve just taken molly. Then Patrick smirks, and Art knows he knows he’s full of shit. Patrick’s hands don’t leave his waist, though, and Art’s stomach is swooping with an amazing sense of euphoria.
“Y’know, I wouldn’t mind, really, I wouldn’t!” He exclaims when Art side-eyes him incredulously. “If you were just honest about it. C’mon, Art,” He croons low into Art’s ear, “admit you were eye-fucking my girlfriend right in front of me.”
Art doesn’t know if it’s the molly or Patrick’s hands low on his hips that sends a surge of courage through his stomach.
“Okay. I was eye-fucking your girlfriend right in front of you.” Art whispers to him, and Patrick’s eyes widen, and Art realizes just how dilated they are. It makes the already deep-brown eyes look eclipsed with void-black. Art can’t tear his gaze away.
The beat switches suddenly and the crowd howls and jostles their approval, and Art loses himself in the feeling of the crowd and Patrick’s almost-too-warm hands on him.
The music’s energy reaches a crescendo, and Tashi looks ecstatic even though she’s only drunk, and Patrick’s voice is in his ear again—
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she.” Art nods, grinding his teeth. Patrick glances over and silently offers him a pack of fruity gum. Art takes one gratefully, suddenly aware of the tension in his jaw. He consciously relaxes, and rocks his body with the music, back into Patrick.
“Do you feel it?” Patrick asks in his ear over the pounding bass. Art takes stock of himself. He feels… floaty. Yeah. And his breath is light in his chest, the beat of the music resounding pleasantly in his bones.
“Yeah.” Art turns back to look at him, and Patrick loops his arms around Art’s neck. What is he doing? Art’s heart pounds in his throat, and it’s only partly because of the MDMA starting to peak. Their height difference forces Art to tilt his head a bit to look up at Patrick, and the sensation makes Art dizzy with something pleasant. Something good. He wants more.
Art rocks his body with Patrick’s, and smiles when Tashi winds an arm around Patrick, her gaze locked on Art. She slides in between them seamlessly, and Art flounders for a second before Patrick guides his hands to Tashi’s waist. Art might actually explode. Then Tashi smirks back at him before closing her eyes to the music again, and Art’s chest is soaring.
The crowd is raucous around them, moshing and dancing and radiating a contagious joy that has Art grinning. He looks up and sees Patrick’s dark eyes on him, which sends a delightful thrill through his body. The night expands endless and infinite before him, possibilities unfolding with every brush of Patrick’s hands against his on Tashi’s waist.
Art closes his eyes against the soaring in his head, enjoying the feeling of the beat and the crowd and Patrick and Tashi— everything is perfect. Art opens his eyes and finds Patrick much closer than he was a second ago. Art regards him with half-lidded eyes, gazing up at Patrick’s enraptured expression. Tashi moves like liquid between them, flowing and swaying and guiding their movements. Art is right where he wants to be.
Art sees the moment the beat switches more than he hears it, because Tashi hums appreciatively and Patrick’s eyes slide closed. Art feels attuned to them, tapped into their wavelength in a way that he’s never been before. It reminds him of how he and Patrick work on the court, how Art can read him and his movements perfectly and respond in turn. Tashi adds an element of unpredictability, of electricity. Competition. Jealousy, if Art’s being honest with himself. But he’s not jealous now. How could he be, with Patrick staring at him through his dark lashes and Tashi closing her eyes and rocking to the beat between them?
No. Art is happy. He’s very, very happy. He doesn’t know who moves first, but suddenly the gap between him and Patrick closes, and he thinks he sees Tashi’s hand on Patrick’s neck, guiding him forward, and the last thing he sees is her smirk before his eyes are slipping shut of their own accord.
Patrick tastes like weed and something indescribable, and Art whines as he licks his tongue into Patrick’s mouth, trying desperately to get more of that taste. Tashi hums again, and Art goes hot all over. It feels amazing. Patrick feels amazing. They slide with the beat of the music, and it’s intoxicating, and Art can’t get enough, and Patrick is sliding a hand into his hair— Art has to stifle his gasp against Patrick’s lips.
The strobing lights illuminate Tashi’s delighted smile, and Art squeaks as Patrick tugs his hair a little.
“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” Tashi announces suddenly, giving Patrick a significant look that he seems to read easily. Art stifles his disappointment. But then Patrick is taking his hand and guiding him after Tashi, and she’s slipping into the men’s room when no one’s looking, and Patrick is steering him into the big stall, and—
Patrick drops to his knees in front of Art. Art knows his eyes are wide as saucers, but he can’t help it. What’s happening? Before Art can ask, Tashi is approaching him steadily. She dances a finger down his collarbone, making Art shiver.
“Is this okay, Art?” She asks, no trace of a joke in her voice. This is real. Whatever this is.
“Yeah.” Art says, throat scratchy. He clears his throat and repeats himself. “Yeah, this is okay.” His voice is breathless, and even though he’s the one on his knees, Patrick is smirking up at him like Art is the one on the floor. Art’s stomach swoops violently, and it makes blood rush down to his dick.
This is real. Patrick wants to suck him off. Jesus. Years worth of wet dreams are coming true right now. Tashi leans forward into his space as Patrick fumbles with Art’s fly.
“If we get caught we’re getting kicked out. We cannot be kicked out.” Her eyes are serious. “Can you be quiet, Art?”
“Mhm.” Art hums, knowing already that he’s lying through his teeth. There’s no way in hell he’s going to be able to keep quiet.
“Good boy.” Art’s already dilated eyes get even bigger, and she smirks at him. Art startles when Patrick’s warm hand takes his dick, and he obviously spit on it when Art wasn’t looking because it’s delightfully wet—
“Hn—“ Art slams his mouth shut, forcing the moan down, and Patrick smiles meanly before abruptly licking a stripe up Art’s throbbing cock.
Art shudders a gasp, and suddenly Tashi’s hand is near his face, and she’s putting two fingers in his mouth, and—
“Suck.” She orders lowly. Art’s hips jerk up and he whines against Tashi’s hand. He sucks. He has to keep quiet. He has to make Tashi happy.
Patrick takes the head of his dick into his mouth, and Art throws his head back. Tashi follows him, cushioning his head with her hand so he doesn’t slam it against the wall. It has the effect of her cradling the crown of his head as she shoves her fingers deeper down his throat, and he knows she’s about to discover it—
“Art, you slut!” She whispers delightedly. “You don’t have a gag reflex?”
Art’s eyes are teary as he looks up at her, and she smiles. Her fingers caress the inside of his throat tenderly.
“Well. I guess that answers that.” She looks like the cat who caught the canary, and Art has to focus on Patrick so he doesn’t read into that.
This whole thing is going to be impossible not to read into, but Art ignores that. Art muffles a whimper against Tashi’s hand, and tries valiantly not to come too early.
Patrick is making it damn hard, though. Art can’t tell if he’s done this before or if he’s just a natural, but Jesus fucking Christ. Art’s legs go weak as Patrick swirls his tongue before taking him deep into his throat, and it’s obvious that Patrick does have a gag reflex but he’s ignoring it— holy shit—
Art mewls uncontrollably and he reaches out to grip Patrick’s hair in warning, trying to get him to pull off because surely he doesn’t want to swallow— but Patrick just leans into the hand and licks at the head, and his eyes are low and dark as he looks up at Art, and now Art can see that he’s palming himself through his jeans, and—
“Hn— Mmh—“ Art whimpers as he comes deep down Patrick’s throat, and Tashi forces Art’s head back with her fingers as Patrick’s throat works around him to swallow. Art forces himself to be quiet and it’s delightful torture.
He’s softening and Patrick is up in his space immediately, drawing out Tashi’s hand and kissing him, and Art can taste himself on Patrick’s tongue, and Patrick is hard against his thigh and instinct moves Art’s leg forward—
This time it’s Patrick who stifles a moan. Tashi gives him a warning look that makes him smirk, and he turns back to Art with a sparkle in his eyes as he rocks his hips against Art. Art reaches down to undo Patrick’s fly, and holds his hand to Patrick’s mouth, palm up. Patrick spits in it without having to be asked, and Art reaches down to take him in hand.
Patrick’s hips stutter in Art’s grip, and his head falls forward onto Art’s shoulder. His dark hair brushes Art’s chin and fireworks are exploding in Art’s chest. Art leans forward to connect his lips with Tashi’s, and she smiles against him.
“Make him come, Art.” She whispers, and Art gasps into her mouth when he sees her hand down her own pants. The hand that’s slick with Art’s spit.
Patrick raises his head, and he’s a sight to behold. His eyes are all black with pupil, and he looks extremely fucked out.
“Please, please, Art—“ He pants into Art’s ear, and Art curls his wrist just the way Patrick taught him and Patrick muffles his moan into Art’s mouth as he comes, and Tashi curls forward into them as she moans lowly—
Art’s legs are jelly as they pant into the afterglow. Patrick offers him a lazy kiss as he collects himself, and Art knows everything is changing. He hopes it’s not just the molly, that this can be a regular, normal thing— but that’s a thought for tomorrow. For now they have to make it out of this bathroom.
Patrick goes first, scoping it out for other guys. When it’s clear he signals Tashi and Art out, and they quickly wash their hands and leave. Art stumbles back to the bumping dance floor, to all the people unaware that his reality has tilted on its axis— Patrick turns back to him and grabs his hand, smiling lazily.
“Let’s dance, Artie.”
They dance. The DJ has switched again, to an Asian guy with a bunch of piercings. He’s playing something hypnotic, and watching Tashi get lost in the music again puts Art in a sort of trance. Patrick strokes his arms lightly which sends sparks of electricity up and down his limbs, and Art sways with the beat. Patrick loops his arms around him again, and this makes happiness bubble up in Art’s chest.
When they finally stumble out into the cold San Francisco night, they’re flushed and grinning and have a few more hickeys than they came in with. They walk down the street a little, enjoying the crisp air after the sweaty club, then Tashi checks them into a hotel for the night.
The molly is wearing off now. Art pops in a new piece of gum, chewing aggressively. Patrick is loping behind them, dragging his feet down the hotel hallway. They stumble into the room, finding a single king bed. That sounds perfect.
Tashi promptly shuts herself in the bathroom to start some sort of nightly routine, and Patrick makes for the bed. He doesn’t bother to pull back the covers before he flops onto it, and Art rolls his eyes as he follows.
They’ve shared a bed before, of course, but never after Patrick sucked his dick. Never with Tashi. This is unprecedented territory. Art takes in the sight of Patrick, whose dark eyes are closed now, leaving just his long lashes to dust his cheeks. His affection has always been ephemeral.
But when he took Art’s hand on the dance floor, guiding him forward, it didn’t feel fleeting at all. It felt like something real. So Art takes his place next to Patrick on the bed, and the other boy immediately rolls over and pulls Art into his arms.
Art doesn’t freeze but it’s a close thing. He relaxes, body still feeling pleasantly light and floaty. They exist in each other’s arms for a few minutes, then:
“Dude, you’re smacking your gum right in my ear.” Patrick’s deadpan drawl breaks the comfortable silence.
“Shut up!” Art exclaims. “I need it! I’m on molly!”
Patrick pretends to consider this argument.
“Nah. Not good enough.” Patrick says, and Art rolls his eyes. He spits the gum back in the wrapper anyway, just to be nice. Patrick smiles.
“Good boy.” Art inhales sharply, trying not to shift in Patrick’s grip. The other obviously notices, and tightens his arms around him. “You like that a lot, don’t you?” He says lowly. “You loved it when Tashi said it earlier. I noticed.”
So they’re talking about it. Hm. But the thing is…
“Uh.” Art hesitates, face flaming. “Yeah, I like it.”
“Hm, good.” Patrick says, looking deep into Art’s eyes. His eyes are still unnaturally dilated, both from the ecstasy and the desire.
“Patrick…” Art’s voice cracks, and Patrick grins meanly.
“Yeah, Art?” His hand creeps up to Art’s neck, and Art tips his head back involuntarily. He gasps a little when Patrick gives a light squeeze, testing, and finds that he likes it a little too much.
“Hn— More, please—“
“Are you guys having sex without me?” Tashi opens the door to the bathroom, pouting playfully.
“Hey Tashi, watch this.” Patrick says, and before Art can question it, Patrick is tightening his grip on his neck tenderly, and Art mewls uncontrollably.
“Holy shit.” Tashi breathes.
“Yeah.”
Art is panting now, moaning on every breath, and Patrick lets up on the pressure. Art scrabbles for purchase, gripping Patrick’s wrist desperately.
“More, more,” He begs shamelessly, and Tashi has her hands down her pants again.
Patrick smiles down at him, eyes crinkling as he squeezes tightly. Art’s whole body is hot, and he’s finding it hard to focus on anything except Patrick’s hand on his neck. So when his dick is stroked through his pants unexpectedly he almost comes right there.
He doesn’t, that would be embarrassing, but it’s fucking close.
Art wrenches his eyes open, and finds Tashi straddling him while Patrick reclines next to them, looking for all the world like he’s watching a particularly interesting game of tennis.
Patrick lets go of his neck, and Art tries to pull him back. Tashi grabs his wrists and pins them to the bed, and the feeling of being dominated so easily sends sparks through Art’s entire body. Patrick undoes Art’s fly for the second time tonight, and Art lets him shimmy his pants down his legs. His boxers are soaked through with precome. Patrick looks like he’s been given the world on a platter.
“Tashi—“ Art begs for something, anything, and Tashi smiles down at him indulgently. Then she lowers herself down onto Art’s wet boxers, and Art throws his head back at the friction. She’s not letting him move his arms and it’s the hottest thing he’s ever experienced.
“Oh shit— Tashi—“ Art whimpers, and Patrick groans at the sight of them. “Hn— Nn— Fuck—“ Art can’t control the sounds he’s making, and he’s seriously never felt like this before. He doesn’t know if it’s the drugs or the surreal situation, but he’s writhing on the bed against Tashi’s grip, rocking up into her like he’ll die if he stops.
“You’re so fucking hot, Art.” Patrick says, and then he’s capturing Art’s mouth in a filthy kiss. They lick into each other desperately, and Tashi rides Art with quick, efficient strokes.
Art gasps into Patrick’s mouth, feeling his orgasm building. He squirms around, fucking up into the heat of Tashi’s cunt, so tantalizingly close yet so far away, and she transfers both his wrists to one of her hands so she can wrap her other hand around his neck. Art arches up into it, and she smirks.
“Come for me, Art.” She says, squeezing tight. Patrick tweaks his nipple through his shirt and that sends a spark of heat through his chest that ignites a fucking volcano. Art mewls as he comes, spilling in his boxers as his hips twitch uncontrollably.
Tashi grinds down on him, hand leaving his neck to finger her clit. Her orgasm crashes through her, and her grip on his wrists loosens with it.
Art turns his best puppy dog eyes to Patrick.
“Please let me suck you off.” Art says, and Patrick’s mouth drops open to reveal his pink tongue. Cute.
“Yes. Holy shit, Art—“
Art is already pawing for Patrick’s jeans, peeling them off and throwing them to the floor. Patrick shimmies out of his boxers and Art spits into his hand.
“He has no gag reflex, Patrick,” Tashi says gleefully, propping herself up on the bed to watch. Patrick smiles lecherously, and Art feels a thrill run through him.
Art leans forward and takes Patrick in hand before licking the head. Then he takes him in full, opening his throat and letting the hot weight of Patrick spear him open. Patrick grips his hair hard, and Art’s whimper is muffled by the dick down his throat.
Art lets Patrick fuck his throat, turning teary eyes up to him to see his face. Patrick looks awed, and with the hand that’s not gripping Art’s hair he caresses Art’s face. Something lovely and warm expands in Art’s chest, and he runs his tongue under the head of Patrick’s cock. He can feel Patrick about to come, and he takes him deep into his throat again. Patrick moans lowly as he comes down Art’s throat, and Art’s throat works around him.
“Jesus.” Tashi says, and Art opens his eyes, not realizing they’d slipped closed. “You’re really something, Art Donaldson.”
Art looks up at her dazedly, and she pulls him back to bed. Patrick disappears to the bathroom, and reappears a few moments later with a few damp towels. He gently wipes Art off as Tashi draws circles on Art’s bare arm. Art’s eyes close again, enjoying the feeling of being taken care of. A content sigh leaves him, and Tashi laughs softly above him. As he drifts off to sleep, he feels Patrick tuck him into his side, and Tashi take her place on his other side.
Yeah. He could get used to this.