“Did you ever wash it?” Art demands walking to where he’s sitting at his desk.

“Probably not. Hey so there’s this thing…this kiss…I want to try it with Madison but I’m scared I’m not gonna be good at it.” Patrick says carefully.

Art nods his head all seriously like he’s just been handed a fun homework assignment, his eyes light up and he licks his lips. Patrick knows he’s probably more intrigued by the idea that it’s something new and Patrick’s admitting he’s not good at it.

“Can we…you know… try it first?”

“Yeah sure,” Art says. It’s Sunday but it’s not a normal Sunday.

“Okay, can we do it now?”

Art looks over at his clothes folded on the bed. He’s so meticulous and neat. But Patrick is an animal and his favorite project is finding new ways to make a mess out of him.

“It’s gonna take like five minutes,” Patrick says, standing up and pulling him towards his own bed. “Can I kiss you?”

Art nods his head. “Okay…yeah sure.” He says allowing himself to be led with reluctant curiosity.

They approach the foot of his bed and Patrick walks behind him. ”Like this…” he says wrapping his arms around Arts firm waist from behind. He presses himself against the swell off his ass and watches Art swallow as he leans in. Art closes his eyes and pouts his lips. Patrick can’t resist… he gives him a peck on the lips and then sinks to his knees behind him.

He eases the towel up Arts thighs.

“Patrick, what are you—” Art says anxiously attempting to turn around.

“Shh. Stay still. Five minutes.”

“I thought you said you wanted to kiss—”

“Yeah a kiss, it’s a little kiss. Can you relax?” Patrick says distractedly looking over Art's bottom. He feels himself getting hard. Art has the perfect ass. Patrick’s missed more than a few shots on the court because of it. He’s spent hours and hours touching himself thinking about pressing his cock inside it.

He kisses one cheek and Art takes a breath. “Patrick you can’t…” He whispers.

“I know,” Patrick sighs and kisses him again and then gently spreads him apart and licks at the perfect pink pucker right in the center. He teases his tongue along the outside…kissing him slowly. It feels better than he imagined.

Art makes a strangled sound and tries to pull away but Patrick follows him. “Please, please lemme kiss you, one kiss, one filthy kiss.” He begs as Art climbs on the bed.

Art whines, “Patrick please— I—I’m gonna—“ his voice is pitched entirely different and his cock is full already, he’s even started dripping. And that’s when Patrick realizes this is a thing.

“It’s okay,” Patrick breathes trying to reconcile this. “It’s okay if you—” he’s not sure what he’s saying anymore. His heads gone fuzzy, his heartbeat’s in his ears drowning out the low volume of the classic rock station playing on the clock radio. Patrick gets behind Art on the bed and starts again, first slowly, then recklessly, pushing his tongue in and out. Licking and sucking like it might go away if he doesn’t get to it fast enough.

“Oh my fucking god,” Art cries. He’s gripping the sheets, knuckles white, helpless little sounds spilling from his lips. He starts shivering, whining, moaning like the girls do on the choppy videos they find on the internet late at night before deleting their search history.

Patrick’s gripping his waist, holding him tight so he can’t leave again. Probably too tight but he’s so fucking lost he’s barely aware of it till Art starts coming. Messy and wet all over Patrick’s bed sheets.

Patrick makes himself stop and licks his lips, wiping his mouth with his wrist. “God you’re so… fucking… sensitive,” Patrick gasps and Art just groans, collapsing on the bed.

Patrick doesn’t need much to bring himself over the edge. Just Art splayed on the bed in front of him all apart, flushed beautifully, breathing heavy, towel barely covering him, jizz still dripping down between thighs. He’s probably ruined this forever because he’s always gonna be thinking of Art. How he looks, how he sounds, how he feels, how he tastes. Patrick loses it all over him, spilling on his stomach, adding to the mess between his legs.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes.

Art shivers. “You’re so—“ he pushes himself up on his elbows, “Now I have to get in the shower again.”

Patrick huffs a laugh. “I have to change my sheets.” He sighs and dips his finger tip into the pool of come on Arts thighs and tastes it.

“You’re so gross,” Art whispers and he bites his lip.

“And you love it,” Patrick points out.

Arts blushing and he flops back on the bed and covers his face with his arms. “If my mom ever found out I let you…”

“Well I’m certainly not gonna tell her.”

“Yeah but… but now I’ll know and you’ll know and I’m not gonna be able to…” he rubs his eyes and takes a deep breath. “It’s so…dirty.”

“Relax. Go shower again and it’ll all go away… like I never even did it I promise.”

“I really hate you,” Art says and Patrick grins at him.