#patrick kane
“It’s Patrick’s barely audible sob that tears Jonathan from his awe. A sound of disbelief and thankfulness. A sound of pure elation and love that he can almost taste on his own tongue, a sound that he has to feel with his hands and so he pushes himself upright, brings his body closer, reaches for Patrick: every single bone in his body sighing with longing, with alleviation that he is able to touch him again. With the heartbreaking throbbing pain of six years without him in his chest and the unbelievable bliss that he can finally wipe them from his memory and recover from the dreadful emptiness that is life without Patrick.”
– I’m asleep dreaming that I’m awake wondering if I’m dreaming (and it’s the best dream I ever had), by Caivallon
“Jonny loves Patrick like this: happy, teasing, eyes bright, a little handsy, and just this side of drunk. It reminds him of being young college kids pressed together in the dark corners of frat house parties, trading punch flavored kisses. It reminds him of being in their first apartment, burning dinner, when the cheap bottles of wine they’d drink would convince them they would rule the world. It reminds him of toasting birthdays, holidays, new jobs, new babies.”
– all the secrets of our mountain (all the riches buried there), by CoffeeKristin & Frosting50
“On my own.” He moves his jaw from side to side and presses his lips together, but then adds, louder, “Who the fuck knows how long it’ll take me, too. Roads jammed, gas stations closed, crazy fucking restaurants on benders. What do I do once I’m finally there? Drive through the whole state trying to find some fucking plane? Someone to take me?”
“Pat.”
“What happens, Jonny? What happens when the world ends and I’m stuck there alone?” The last word cracks, resonates ugly and pained.
–Tell the Stars I’m Coming Home, by allthebros
Jonny’s never spent a heat with another guy, alpha or no. Never had an honest-to-god-dick-attached-knot inside him. Never been with someone he used to daydream about lifting his ass up for, even on suppressants.
He wants it to be good.
A few months now of fucking around and he’s pretty sure it will be—Kaner takes cock better than bottom alphas on pornhub, which…Jonny hadn’t known he was into at all. He gives head like a maniac and spent an ill-advised straight twenty minutes eating Jonny out on their last trip to Dallas.
But heat’s different. It’s different when it’s with someone you like. The idea of washing Kaner’s claim off him when they’re done—Kaner washing off Jonny’s—he already hates it. He already hates it and he’s never even had it.
–Between the Pipes, by sorrylatenew
“You want to fool around?”
Jonny’s eyes snap up to his, astonished for a fast second, then flat, his forehead smoothing out as he drops his things again, lets his arms go loose. “That what we’re calling it now?” he says.
They don’t call it anything. Patrick can’t even remember the last time it was more than a look, a jerk of the head, a soft tug of fingers at the hem of a pair of shorts.
–Play Up Your Breakdown, by sorrylatenew
Jonny nods once, final. “I’m coming with you.”
Patrick isn’t sure he’s breathing anymore. He may have stopped completely.
“What about your coaching job? You were really happy there?”
Jonny shrugs. “I was. But I can find another coaching position in Chicago. And if not, I’ll find some other job. There will always be another job. But if I stay here there won’t be a YOU. So I’m coming.”
Patrick means to fight him on the issue more, intends to be strong and selfless, but what comes out is, “Promise?”
–Empty Chairs, by heartstrings
He’ll be able to tell Patrick he wants to write on him. They do that, tell each other things, at least things like “I want to blow you” and “I want you to fuck me” and “I don’t want to go home, let me crash here”. So Johnny could say something like “I want to write on you” and it would be okay. It’s only a little weirder than anything else they’ve told each other, and probably less weird than the first time Johnny said, “I want you to fuck me”, and his face went all red and his stomach was flipping over and his throat was tight until Patrick said “Yeah, Johnny, I want that too.”
–Stories sticking to your skin, by linaerys
Jon, a gay man in the military used to assessing his options for potential fucks, couldn’t help but run him through his usual diagnostic—he didn’t give off the vibe, not in the way he looked at Jon or at anyone else, so Jon pegged him as straight, easy on the eyes but not really his type. Kane was a little quiet, good-natured about his inexperience, needed a little help with some of his rates, just another student. Jon had slept with another SNA in the program back when they were at the academy together in ‘08, Lt. Stevens, who’d probably be down if they needed to get quick and dirty, and he was pretty sure a new recruit out of California swung his way. There’d be others looking for flyboy tail off base, so Jon wasn’t hurting for choice.
But then he saw him fly. Fucking game over.
–So Lift Those Heavy Eyelids, by SimoneClouseau
“I actually feel like a grownup right now.”
Jonny glances up from his menu, watches Patrick give the wine in his glass an exaggerated swirl.
“We’re at Olive Garden.”
The smile Patrick’s wearing goes wider, eyes sparked up in amusement. “Gonna front like you’re too bougie for the Garden even with that applesauce on your shirt, eh?”
Jonny smiles back, lifts a hand to scratch along the bridge of his nose with his middle finger.
“Wow. Check, please,” Patrick says. “I can’t be expected to share a booth with a man who treats his baby daddy like this on Father’s Day.”
“I’m gonna throw up,” Jonny deadpans.
“Aim away from the breadsticks.”
–No Capes, by sorrylatenew
When he looks back, Jonny is no longer actively pressing in, just running his fingertips up and down the side of his throat. Patrick follows his motions with his eyes for a long second before looking back at Jonny’s face, to find that Jonny is already looking at him. Patrick can feel heat flushing through his entire body at Jonny’s steady, dark-eyed gaze. Jonny’s leaning in toward him a little, one arm up on the back of the booth. He brings the other arm down to brace his hand on the table. Patrick’s eyes follow his hand helplessly like Jonny’s got his attention on a leash.
“I thought I might be making this up,” Jonny says, and Patrick’s eyes shoot up to his face. His expression is unreadable to Patrick, but not hostile.
“What?” Patrick says.
–Together in this Place, by joyfulseeker
If you learn stillness. If you learn silence, and patience. If there’s anger and vengeance and pain and loss in your heart, you can learn the language of the corn. Spend months inside those fields. Nights and days, summer and winter, lie on the ground with your ear against the packed earth, and listen, listen. Listen to the slow hum of sleeping roots; the underground yawn of awakening, of seeds breaking open; to the cries and exclamations and songs of joy, of growing, of breaking out of the soil, of reaching for light and sky and wind; to the words hidden in the rub between two leaves, in the leaning against a strong gale; to the secret and love of plants and dirt; to the sound of rain, the guzzling of water, right there in the mud. Listen.
–We’ve Waited for the Calling, by allthebros
Patrick feels Jonny’s dick jerk as he comes. It’s totally bizarre, the pulse of it against his palm as Jonny shoots onto his stomach. Patrick kind of wants to lick it up, just to see what it tastes like, but he doesn’t want to risk puking. That would probably suck.
“Shit,” Jonny says again. His fingers tighten in Patrick’s hair before releasing. Patrick crawls up his body, getting jizz all over his shirt, but he doesn’t care. Jonny’s slumped down against the floor, eyes closed and breathing loudly from his mouth. God, he’s so stupid. This isn’t fair.
“Fuck, Jonny, come on,” Patrick says. He’s not above humping Jonny like a dog, but even a hand to rub up on would be buddies.
–Start Real Slow, by coricomile
“No.” Patrick says, and he turns his hands over in Jonny’s grip, his stomach swooping. This seems more dangerous than anything he’s ever done on the ice. He squeezes Jonny’s hands, feeling sure, maybe more sure of this than anything else. “Jonny, I know it. This isn’t it for you.”
“I know you. I know you,” Patrick repeats. He leans in, closer still. “Jonny. Jon,” he says, low. Jonny opens his eyes, gazing back at Patrick. Patrick feels incredibly warm. He still doesn’t know how Jonny manages to rile him up so badly that he’s crazy with it, and then in no time at all makes him feel completely different. How he manages to get in his space so easily. He wonders if Jonny’s feeling warm too, if they need to turn the heat down in his room.
–Under the Shape of Years, by cooliofoolios
Patrick chuckles softly and rests his hand on Jonny’s shoulder. It’s such a warm, sweet gesture that Jonny wants to shove him away again. “I can think of worse people to be fake-married to.”
Jonny is taken aback by the compliment. There’s a moment where Jonny thinks, yeah, he could probably kiss Patrick again. It’s late in the night, the soft glow from the dim lamps casting soft shadows across Patrick’s face. Jonny could thumb at the line of his dimples and touch the small of his back to pull him flush.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he rolls his eyes and steps far out of Patrick’s vicinity. “Yeah, okay, whatever,” he says, and pretends not to notice the way Patrick looks kind of put out. “Get your beauty sleep.”
–we’re looking for something dumb to do, by hatrickane
“You know what’s fucked up? They fucking called it Matilda. That’s a children’s book. Jess loved it when she was little and she wouldn’t stop watching the movie. It’s… sweet. Pretty. It always makes me think of her…” His voice trails off, and he swallows hard, bends forward, hands on his knees and a “shit” between his teeth. He spits on the road.
The thing with Patrick is that while he’s never been shy about his emotions on most occasions, as his friend you have to know when he’ll listen to what you have to say and when you’re more likely to get told to fuck off.
Not knowing which it is now bothers Jonny, so he looks away and takes a cigarette out, holds it between two fingers. “Should have called it something more impressive,” he says to the trees. “Conan the Destroyer.”
“He was a barbarian,” Patrick replies to the ground.
“Whatever.”
–Tell the Stars I’m Coming Home, by allthebros
Patrick’s not sure how an enviro freak like Jon can be so involved in the illicit racing business. But he’s Jon and part of being Jon is loving with his all. And that includes both the earth and his cars, so Patrick doesn’t question it.
Patrick doesn’t seem to question a lot of things, anymore.
Not when it comes to Jon, at least.
–On your marks, by Pinkmanite
The room erupts in a flurry of movement and noise. He thinks Jonny takes his hand when one of the guards tries to take Jonny’s, but only knows that he does count Jonny’s fingers gripped against his own, for no reason he can name.
He counts the number of times the Queen slips into French, the number of times she says and screams that she “told him” once he realizes it’s something she’s repeating.
He counts the black marble tiles in the hallway as they pass them: forty-three before they’re stopped, before they lose one guard to hold off two men with two revolvers. Sixty-five before they lose the second.
–Somewhere Down This Road, by sorrylatenew
“Oh fuck, I missed this,” Kane says, startling Nolan. He sweeps a hand down the back of Jonny’s neck, the same way you’d pet an animal. Jonny must like it, because he squeezes his eyes shut, burying his face into Kane’s neck. Nolan watches him get a palm underneath Kane’s spine, hauling him in close.
Kane lets out a strangled gasp, and Nolan doesn’t know very much about sex between two men, beyond that he’d thought about maybe having it with Jonny more than a few times these past couple of weeks if Jonny would even be into that. But he’s heard enough about it to know that some guys can come from getting fucked. He hadn’t given it much credence, but now he’s pretty positive Kane’s gonna.
–Empirically Verifiable, by fourfreedoms
“You’re not up for lying there and getting your dick sucked?” Jonny said, arching an eyebrow at him.
Patrick’s lips quirked. “Well, when you put it that way…”
“Look, you can tap out any time if it’s really not working for you,” Jonny said. “Just close your eyes and try to relax, all right? Let’s get you situated so that if you do fall asleep, I don’t have to wake you up to get you under the covers.”
“Good idea.” Patrick shoved the covers on his side of the bed to the side and lay down, head on his pillow. “You know,” he remarked, “there was a time when I would’ve said that it was it was ridiculous to want to fall asleep during sex. But I would take it right now. I would really, really take it right now.”
–Sleepless in Chicago, by sahiya
Kaner pushes his chair back to stretch out his legs, ankles crossing, like he’s settling into both the seat and the conversation. “What do you think is going on between me and Jonny?”
“Nothing,” Gray says immediately. “Nothing at all. But I think you’d like there to be, and I think you’ve been trying to wrong-foot me since we met, playing dumb so that I wouldn’t take you seriously as a threat.”
“Really? That’s what you believe?” Kaner laughs, genuinely amused. “Wow, it’s really much less convoluted than that. I just don’t like you much, and it has nothing to do with Jonny. I saw the way you looked at me the first time we met, the way you had me all figured out after just two minutes, like my American brashness was an affront to your middle-class Canadian sensibilities. I see things, too, Gray. And I saw how shocked you were that Jonny could even like someone like me, so I decided it would be more fun to live down to your expectations.“
–A Better Man, by jezziejay
