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Pat and Chris In The Bedroom

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A lot of people say, “what’s that”
It’s Pat


Pat gets home a little after 11 PM. They never remember to be quiet when they get home, and the sound of the apartment door slamming and the stomping that follows as they knock the snow off their boots makes Chris wince from inside their toasty bedsheet cocoon. Chris tries to burrow their head under a pillow, feeling bitterly sorry for themself that they’ve been woken up before their alarm was set to go off.

Chris has recently taken a very late-night job as a receptionist at a 24-hour animal hospital. They start at midnight and finish at eight in the morning, and it’s making them miserable. Pat, of course, works a nearly opposite shift at their tiny office, and neither of them has spent more than a few waking minutes with the other in almost six days.

There’s more thumping and rustling coming from the hallway, as Pat hangs up their coat and brushes the rest of the snow off their pants before padding over to the bathroom to wash their hands. Chris sighs deeply and reaches over to grab their phone so they can turn off their alarm. It’s still not going to go off for another three minutes, but at this point the anticipation isn’t worth it.

Pat pokes their head into the bedroom to see if Chris is awake. They smile broadly when they see Chris looking out from under the pile of bedding. “Heyyyyyy” they say, in that voice that never fails to fill Chris’ stomach with butterflies. “I hope I didn’t wake you, it’s so snowy out there today.”

Chris sits up a little in the bed. “It’s fine,” they yawn, “I was just about to get up anyway. Come here please?” Chris is always needy when they wake up and likes to be held. Pat doesn’t mind, and they walk over and lean on Chris, who buries their head into Pat’s t-shirt, nuzzling their chest. Chris pushes their head into Pat like a child, and as Pat holds them a smirk creeps almost imperceptibly across their lips.

“Sweetie,” Pat nearly shouts, quieting as soon as they notice Chris flinching. “Oh shit sorry, sweetie, I have an idea that I need to run by you.” Chris looks up at them and makes an inquisitive noise. Pat climbs halfway onto the bed and settles their weight onto their partner, placing their leg between Chris' thighs. They run their fingers through Chris' long, dirty blond hair before suddenly tightening into a fist, pulling back their lover's head, sharply. They look down into Chris' eyes, watching bleariness transforming into dawning submissiveness. "Call in sick," they drawl.
“I c-can’t!” Chris frets, thinking about their frustrated supervisor.
“Why not,” asks Pat teasingly. “People call us sick all the time! Let’s just preempt the inevitable!” They laugh, and Chris’ cock involuntarily twitches.

Pat grunts softly as they shift their weight onto the headboard, allowing them to move their hips over Chris’ face. Chris can’t help but moan as they feel the slick softness of Pat’s vulva glide over their lips, and they smile as they feel Pat’s t-dick swelling and bumping against their nose. Chris parts their lips and gently flits their tongue out to taste the wetness that has already accumulated between Pat’s labia. “Fuck,” they mumble into Pat, “you always taste so good.” They love how strongly Pat smells of sweat, of damp earth, and rain, and warm leather. Chris lifts their head and sticks their tongue as far into Pat as they can, exploring the inside of Pat’s tight pussy, before drawing back to take Pat’s swollen t-cock into their mouth. Pat arches and thrusts against Chris’ face, and Chris moans again, loving the sensation of Pat’s thick pubic hair grinding against their nose and cheeks as they suck.

Pat feels their first orgasm building and looks down at their lover, whose eyes are closed in concentration. “You don’t suck at sucking” they say slowly, “and I’m going to give you something since you’re being so good for me.” Their breathing gets shallower and faster, and Chris becomes somehow even more enthusiastic, fluttering their tongue against the bottom of Pat’s swollen cock as they move their lips over its length again and again. Pat starts to say something but it’s lost in a distorted blur of moaning and swearing as they cum hard, gushing their orgasm into Chris’ greedy, hot mouth. Chris barely slows down, pausing a moment only to swallow Pat’s juices before returning their lips and tongue to Pat’s quivering dick. 

Pat comes a second time, and then a third. Ever since they started T, it’s been like this - they’re insatiable and multiorgasmic, barely needing to pause for breath before they’re able to cum again. They’re grinding over Chris’ face, coating Chris in their wetness. “Good - ah! Good slut” they growl, pulling Chris’ hair again. “You’re being such a good little faggot for me. Yeah, you’re a good little boy, aren’t you?” Chris blushes a deep purple and tries to move their lips back onto Pat’s dick, but Pat pulls their hair sharply, making them squeal. “Answer me! Tell me you’re a good little boy.”
Chris closes their eyes in shame and pleasure and a small voice comes out of them: “I’m a good little boy.”
“You’re a good boy what
“I’m a good boy, Daddy.”
Pat smirks and shoves Chris back onto their cock. “That’s right” they grunt, putting more of their weight onto Chris’ face. This is a game they play together, an intensely private exchange of power that satisfies Chris’ desperation to be humiliated and Pat’s love of being a sadistic top. If anyone else dared call Chris a man, Pat would punch them without hesitation. But here, in the safety of their bedroom, Pat knows that nothing gets Chris harder and more eager to please than being called a boy.

Pat feels another orgasm building, but climbs off Chris’ face leaving them flushed and soaked in Pat’s wetness and cum. “Get your pussy ready for Daddy, little boy,” they order. Chris sits up mutely and heads to the bathroom, and Pat allows themself a sigh of satisfaction. They walk over to their dresser and carefully pull out a harness and their favorite dildo, a realistic, dual-density work of art measuring seven inches in length. They put the harness on and then stand at the edge of the bed, stroking their cock with lube, relishing the feeling of the silicone in their hand.
Chris comes back from the bathroom, their erection less prominent than it was when they left. “Get on the bed,” Pat orders, and Chris lays down on their back, pulling their legs up so that their knees are by their head. Pat moves close to them and allows the tip of their dildo to nudge into Chris’ taint, eliciting a shiver. “Are you clean for me boy?” asks Pat.
“Yes Daddy,” Chris answers, blushing again.
“Show Daddy your pussy,” Pat grins. Chris spreads their ass open as wide as they can, exposing their pink little asshole. They’re getting hard again. Pat drizzles lube over their taint and hole, and roughly pushes two fingers into them, massaging and opening them up. Pat ignores Chris’ moaning and whining, adding a third finger. “Are you ready for Daddy, boy?” they ask wickedly.
Chris nods. “Yes Daddy,” they whisper.

With a grunt, Pat pushes the entire length of the dildo into Chris’s ass. Chris screams, reaching desperately for a pillow and holding it over their own mouth in consideration for their neighbors. Pat rips it away and slaps their face hard. “You don’t get to stifle your screams unless I tell you to, you little faggot” they spit angrily. “Take it like a man!” They fuck Chris mercilessly, pounding their tiny asshole as Chris tries their best to control their squealing, tears running down their face. Chris’ cock is harder than it’s ever been, but neither Pat or Chris touches it at all. It bounces as Pat fucks their ass, dribbling a puddle of pre-cum onto their stomach.

Pat pulls nearly all the way out, and slams back into Chris, pushing the dildo in as deep as they can. “What do you say?” they ask, and it takes a few moments for the question to work its way through Chris’ dazed cocklust. Chris’ eyes refocus and they look at Pat and whisper, “thank you Daddy thank you so much, oh god thank you so much for fucking me.”
“Good boy” smiles Pat, and starts fucking them again, leaning back so the dildo hits their prostate more directly. “Don’t forget to tell Daddy when you’re going to cum.”
“I won’t Daddy, I’ll tell you Daddy!” promises Chris, with the absolute sincerity that comes from being fucked within an inch of your life.

Pat pounds them, holding Chris’ thighs and working their hole. Chris cries and moans and whimpers as softly as they can, feeling their burning hole accept Pat’s dick over and over again. Their cock is leaking more with every thrust, and a big orgasm is coming, they can tell. They muster the concentration to tell Pat, but all that comes out is “Daddy! Daddy, I -” and then they start to spurt cum. Pat instantly pulls out, and Chris shoots a second rope over their stomach, begging, “please! Oh god please Daddy please!” A third rope, and then Pat grins and pushes back into them, fucking them through their convulsions and milking every drop of cum out of their trembling cock. Chris screams in ecstacy, and thanks their Daddy over and over again. As their orgasm subsides, Pat slows to fuck them more gently, then pulls out, admiring the sight of their partner covered in cum, prostatic fluid, and tears. “Thank you Daddy” Chris whispers, and Pat lays down on the bed next to them, kissing the tears off their cheek.
“You’re welcome. You were such a good girl for me today baby. You looked so pretty.”
Chris starts to sob, and Pat cradles them, petting their hair and shushing them gently. “It’s ok,” they whisper, “you did such a good job for me. I love you so much.”
“I love you!” Chris chokes, and cries again. They’re calming down and Pat keeps stroking their hair. “Pretty girl,” Pat says lovingly, kissing their hair. “Pretty little girl.”

When Chris has calmed down, Pat heats a towel under the faucet and wipes their body clean before tucking them into bed. Pat crawls in after them and settles into the sheets with Chris nuzzled in their armpit. Chris falls asleep almost immediately, and Pat is drifting off when they are struck by a realization. They reach for Chris’ phone, unlock it, and send a message: “hey, it’s chris. I’m running a fever and can’t come in, I’m sorry.” They turn off the phone and close their eyes, listening to the gentle sounds of the building settling and creaking around them. It’s going to be a beautiful weekend.