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English
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Part 26 of Kink!verse
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Published:
2023-03-05
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3,002
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1/1
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Got me an appetite, now I can taste it

Summary:

He thinks about leaving it until he gets home. Really, he does. That would be the responsible thing to do, after all; maybe the anticipation of it would be a distraction, but not nearly as much of a distraction as opening it now. And even if David swings by the apartment before Patrick gets home and decides to rip open the plain packaging, that would be okay, because David already knows about this. David’s the one who made it all okay, when Patrick stuttered out the interest and the complicated emotions behind it all at once, looping his arms over Patrick’s shoulders and smiling that soft sideways smile that still makes Patrick a little weak in the knees.

Notes:

Happiest of happy birthdays to the ever-fabulous DarlingBlueK! This is actually slightly early (incredibly off-brand, I know) because I'm travelling this week, and... listen. I have no idea if you're in to any of this, but the real gift is just the existence of a new kink!verse instalment......... uh, 18 months after the last one. Whoops. Something something edging joke. 😬

Welcome to another kink!verse instalment! Reading the earlier stories is not required (though, as the very biased author I obviously recommend it); they stand alone and are essentially canon-compliant (just with a different first meeting and their relationship being a month longer than canon) so that folks can tap out of any kinks/fetishes/etc that aren't for them as we go.

Please assume that if you don't see something being negotiated on-screen, they've discussed it off-screen. Also, just a reminder to please not take your kink advice from fanfic. Do your research first, and not from AO3.

Title is from Harry Styles (lol guess why I'm travelling this week).

Work Text:

Of course the package arrives half an hour before Patrick has to go to rehearsal.

He thinks about leaving it until he gets home. Really, he does. That would be the responsible thing to do, after all; maybe the anticipation of it would be a distraction, but not nearly as much of a distraction as opening it now. And even if David swings by the apartment before Patrick gets home and decides to rip open the plain packaging, that would be okay, because David already knows about this. David’s the one who made it all okay, when Patrick stuttered out the interest and the complicated emotions behind it all at once, looping his arms over Patrick’s shoulders and smiling that soft sideways smile that still makes Patrick a little weak in the knees.

“I’m basically the poster child for let’s not unpack where that kink comes from right now, so,” he’d said wryly, and Patrick hadn’t had any choice but to agree. He knows better than anyone that there’s power in control; that consensual is the lynchpin of BDSM, whether it’s the ‘safe and sane’ kind or the ‘risk-aware’ variety, for a reason.

He also knows that, paradoxically, there’s a lot of control to be found in giving up control.

Patrick glances at his phone. He’s got time, before he has to leave.

Just a quick look.

He takes a deep breath, and tears open the paper, pulling off the wrapping and tipping the contents of the box onto the bed, the metal clinking together as it all lands in an undignified heap. Ignoring the padlock and keys for a moment, he picks up the cock cage with its indelicately shaped metal bars and turns it over in his hands, frowning a little at the size. He’d measured himself — not for the first time, of course; he’s pretty sure anyone in possession of a dick has measured it once or twice, but it was certainly the first time he’d had to measure himself soft instead of hard, and that was strange — and if the website description was right, it should fit. It looks like it’s going to be a tight squeeze, though.

Which, Patrick supposes, is sort of the point.

Patrick is distracted throughout the entire rehearsal.

Half his attention is on Mrs Rose as she leads them through tonight’s scenes, but the other half is back at his apartment, on the end of his bed, where he’d left the cage to try it out after he gets home and showers. The problem, of course, is that thinking about doing that gets him flustered and uncomfortably aroused, and he has to wrench his attention back to what he’s actually there for so that he doesn’t completely humiliate himself in front of his…

(The phrase mother-in-law skids into his brain, unbidden but not unwelcome, and he shoves it away with some effort.)

When he finally gets home, he finds David lounging on his bed with the box in his hands and a smirk on his face that makes Patrick’s mouth go dry.

“Delivery day?” David asks unnecessarily, one eyebrow raised and his eyes fixed on Patrick. “I’m surprised it’s not already being put to good use.”

“Can’t have you missing out on all the fun, David.” He drops his duffle bag onto the table and climbs onto the bed, his hand sliding to the back of David’s head as he pulls him into a deep kiss. David makes a low, pleased sound in his throat and Patrick can feel him smiling into it, tension draining out of his neck as he rolls them both over until Patrick’s trapped underneath him. When Patrick pulls back to breathe David grins, holding up the padlock in one hand with sparkling eyes.

“So. Seeing as this was all laid out on the bed when I got here… did you want to wear it tonight?”

“God yeah.” The answer is pulled from deep in his gut and David’s smile widens, deepens into something less mischievous and a lot more sincere. He drags the back of his knuckles lightly across Patrick’s cheeks, the cool bite of David’s rings a shocking contrast to the warm flush in Patrick’s face, and there’s… something there. The glimmer of an idea related to that thing that’s been percolating since his birthday; the thing he’s definitely not going to think about now, in case he blurts it all out. David would never forgive him, if that was their story.

Actually… he probably would. Which is more terrifying, somehow.

“We don’t have to, honey.” David’s cautious voice breaks through his reverie, and he realises he got a little too lost in thought. He takes David’s hand in both of his own, the one that was so recently touching his face, and presses a soft kiss to each knuckle. David hums, clearly trying not to show how much he likes the attention and failing miserably.

“I want to.” He swallows, glancing down between them and back up, fighting off the blush he knows is deepening in his cheeks. It’s rare for him to get this embarrassed by sex stuff anymore. “I just, uh. Can’t? Put it on. Right now.”

David’s gaze trails slowly down Patrick’s torso towards his groin, so hot Patrick almost feels it as a physical touch, before snapping back to his face with a raised eyebrow. “So get yourself under control. It’s not that difficult.”

Oh, Christ. That unlocks something Patrick didn’t even know was there, and he sucks in a shuddering breath as something unfurls in his stomach. David looks far too pleased with himself, and Patrick can’t really blame him. But still:

“Bit hard to do that when you’re lying on top of me, if we’re being honest.” He regrets the words immediately when David rolls off him, flopping onto his back with a shrug.

“Maybe you should take a shower, then.” It’s not a request. “Sort yourself out, and lock yourself up.”

Patrick swallows hard, nodding quickly before picking up the cage and lock and turning towards the bathroom. His palms are sweating, and he can feel his pulse in his ears.

God, he wants this.

He hurries into the bathroom, turning on the shower and stripping down. He’s just about to step under the spray when David’s voice lilts into the room.

“Oh, and Patrick?”

“Yeah?”

“Jerking off in the shower? Is not getting it under control.” Patrick can only imagine the amused expression on David’s face, and his cock gives an interested little twitch.

On second thought, he turns the shower to cold before getting in.

Twenty minutes, zero orgasms, and one very awkward manoeuvring of his finally soft cock into the cage later, Patrick is dressed and standing beside the bed where David is still lounging, looking annoyingly, effortlessly sexy and running the key to the padlock between his fingers. Patrick stares at it, hands clasped tight behind his back, swallowing thickly as his cock tries to respond.

Tries, and can’t.

Clink, clink, clink, goes the key against David’s rings. Patrick’s dick throbs again and god, he can really feel it now, the squeezing sort of pressure as it swells as far as it can towards an erection before being stymied by the metal bars. It’s almost painful — no, it is painful, but a delicious biting sort of pain that drives Patrick to his knees before he consciously realises he’s doing it. He grabs at David’s waistband, incredibly grateful that David had the decency to change into sweatpants before he got home, and yanks down his pants and underwear in one sharp thrust.

“Oh?” David laughs, a little shaky, a little breathless. “Did you want someth—”

The rest of his smart-ass remark is cut off as Patrick sucks him eagerly into his mouth, taking him down to the root. It took him a long time, many attempts and a couple of truly embarrassing failures to learn how to deep throat, but it was all worth it for the way he can render David non-verbal now. The vice-like grip of the cage around his cock intensifies and Patrick whimpers around David’s dick, his brain going pleasantly fuzzy between the pressure in his groin and the way he has to work to swallow David down. It’s so much, too much and not enough and he can feel how much effort his body is putting into getting hard and fuck—

David groans, his hands coming fluttering down to rest on the back of Patrick’s head. They just rest there for a moment, scratching at the nape of Patrick’s neck until Patrick looks up to meet David’s gaze, heavy-lidded and deeply, deliriously sensual. Whatever David sees in Patrick’s expression, he quirks one of his small private smiles and then the touch of his hands on the back of Patrick’s head turns into a firm grip, holding him steady. And it’s not like he actually pushes Patrick anywhere he wasn’t already, but still, it’s just one more squeezing, aching pressure and he moans, as much as a way to release whatever’s building up inside him as it is an expression of what he’s feeling. And then David’s holding him still and thrusting up into his mouth, once, twice, and he’s crying out Patrick’s name with a bitten-off gasp as he comes. Patrick swallows it all, gentling him through the aftershocks with his tongue, and it’s only when David’s head falls back onto the bed that he sits back on his heels. Christ, his cock aches; this would normally be the part where David hauled him up onto the bed and returned the favour with gusto, but—

“Hmm.” David’s all squinty and sex-addled in the way he often gets post-orgasm, but he’s pushed himself up onto his elbows to survey Patrick with a sort of practised disinterest. Patrick might have fallen for it, if his gaze wasn’t so hot it feels like he’s being electrified from the inside out. “You know, I was thinking about getting you up on this bed and rimming you until you screamed, until you were begging to have me inside you, but it doesn’t look like you want that, so…”

He trails off in a way Patrick recognises, and he’s flooded with a sudden rush of love so overwhelming he almost cries. David’s giving him an easy out. David knows what it’s like to take the most fucked up parts of your past and fetishise them, twist them around into something dark and delicious and taboo. He also knows it doesn’t always work, and he’s giving Patrick space to say I do want that, give it to me without it having to be a whole thing.

This, though… this is working. Really working. Like, Patrick’s sure he’s going to come the literal second the cage is unlocked, working. This is nothing like it used to be, before he met David, before he understood — Patrick hiding behind a veneer of dominance, never pulling apart and examining the lack of sexual desire he couldn’t really understand, concentrating on his partner’s pleasure instead of his own and convincing himself it was a sign of self-control. This is a choice. But it also strips the choice from him; he can’t get hard. He can’t fuck or jerk off or touch his own dick at all, except through the small metal bars, until David decides he can or until he safewords out. It’s overwhelming and terrifying and wonderful, and he picks up David’s leg from where it’s hanging over the bed and presses a soft kiss to the outside of his ankle in lieu of an answer. David smiles at him, a soft, sweet smile, before it sharpens almost imperceptibly.

“Well, if you’re not going to let me fuck you, then I could really go for a snack.”

Patrick huffs out a laugh, surprised and yet not surprised at all by the sudden shift. He clambers to his feet before going to the kitchen, the pull of additional weight around his dick keeping his attention hyper-focused there. He’s found since Cabaret started blocking that he can’t eat much after rehearsals anymore, so he assembles a platter of cheese and crackers before bringing it back to the bed. David has put his sweats back on and has propped himself up so he’s leaning against the headboard and Patrick has a sudden, surprising flash of a mental image that makes his stomach twist with want. He follows his instincts, keeping the platter in his hand even as David reaches out to take it and kneeling by the head of the bed. He holds his back ramrod straight, David’s eye flickering over his posture with obvious interest, and then with his free hand he places one of the slices of cheese onto a cracker before pressing it to David’s lips, swallowing back his nerves.

“Oh.” David’s whisper is equal parts shocked and delighted, but he opens his mouth and accepts the food being offered to him, teeth barely grazing the pads of Patrick’s fingers. And it’s so hot, unexpectedly hot, that Patrick stays kneeling, cock aching and heart racing as he feeds David slowly, one cracker after another after another. And there’s something about it, something about David’s love of food and Patrick’s love of giving David what he needs and… and something deeper, something that can only be found on his knees. But it’s too much to untangle right now; it’s something they’ll pick apart and examine later, maybe add to the spreadsheet.

Eventually the plate is clear, David having pushed Patrick’s hand back to his own mouth more than a few times to make sure he ate something too, and Patrick pulls himself to his feet. Instead of just leaving the plate on the bench he washes it, then dries it and puts it away, acutely conscious of David’s gaze on his back the entire time. The air between them is charged and crackling and yet somehow, inexplicably, incredibly comfortable. When he’s done he makes his way back to the bed, suddenly unsure where to go next.

David makes it easy for him, like he always does. “Come kiss me, Patrick.”

And, well. That’s an instruction Patrick never struggles to follow. He lies down on the bed, on top of David so they’re pressed together from chest to knee, and lets David take his face in both hands. He presses a kiss to Patrick’s forehead, his nose, one cheek and then the other. Patrick doesn’t quite know when the mood of the evening shifted from something sexy and domineering to tender and aching, but he’s sure not complaining.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” David’s eyes are bright and sincere and for the second time tonight, Patrick has to swallow back the question dancing on the back of his tongue. Instead, he surges forward and takes what he wants, unable to stand not kissing David for a moment longer. He licks into David’s mouth, eliciting a groan, and fuck if that doesn’t make his cock throb against its confines. And before he quite knows what’s happening David is flipping them, rolling them over so Patrick is flat on his back with David hovering above him, mouth quirked to the side.

“Mm-mm. You’re not in control of this, remember? I am. So you can just lie there and take what I give you.”

Jesus, his dick hurts. It feels like it’s trying to clamber its way out of its cage, it’s so singularly attuned to that cadence out of David’s mouth. He nods, throat dry and scratchy, and doesn’t move even when David starts unbuttoning his shirt. He pulls it off slowly, gently, before moving to his jeans and peeling those off as well, until Patrick’s sprawled out naked on his bed except for a cock cage with David still fully dressed beside him. David wriggles around until he’s in between Patrick’s legs and then he presses an unbearably soft kiss to his pubic bone, just above where the cage starts. And god, is Patrick’s body ever trying to get hard in response. His fingers and toes are tingling; he’s pretty sure all the blood has rushed away from them in favour of his groin.

David rests a chin on Patrick’s thigh, looking up at him.

“I know you want this, Patrick.”

Patrick swallows thickly. “Wh…what?”

That sideways smile again. “I know you want this. I know you want me. I don’t need to see it. You don’t have to prove it. I know.”

Something breaks open in him, then; a Gordian knot of doubt and insecurity and a desperate need to prove himself that he didn’t even know was choking him until David easily, effortlessly detangled it. “David—” He doesn’t even realise he’s crying until David reaches up, brushing a thumb under one eye. “David, please.”

“Yeah. I’ve got you, sweetheart. I know what you need.” And then there’s a key, and a small detached part of Patrick’s brain wonders where the hell he’s been keeping it all this time but it’s drowned out by every other cell in his body screaming out with need. And then there’s a sensation Patrick can only describe as lightness, as freedom, before David’s hand wraps around his cock and squeezes hard, a totally different kind of being engulfed than there was before and Patrick cries out, arches off the bed, and comes and comes and comes.

The world goes delectably fuzzy for a moment, and when it rights itself David is curled into his side, his thumb (not the one covered in come, thank god) stroking gently at Patrick’s temple.

“David…”

“Shh.” David replaces the thumb with his lips, the kiss unbearably soft. “I know.”

Yeah, Patrick thinks, dazed. You really do.

David shifts a little, and the overhead light bounces off one of his rings. That something, that glimmer of an idea from earlier, comes back full force, solidifying itself into something so real Patrick can see it.

Tomorrow, he has some phone calls to make.

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