damagereport | Fic: Thnks fr the Knckrs - Joe/Patrick

Part one.

Joe couldn't sleep. He couldn't quite get his head around what had just happened. Patrick was supposed to be way more prudish than he was, but it was definitely he who had instigated this part. Not that Joe was complaining – but it just felt so surreal to watch the pale blue fabric of the panties he'd bought growing dark with dampness, and all because he was looking at footage of Joe doing the same as he was.

A small part of him was absolutely scandalised that it had gone this far; but the greater part of him was wondering what happened next. Where the hell they went from here.

He was supposed to be at Pete's in six and a half hours, which was probably not the coolest thing right now, because Patrick was supposed to be there, too, and having to see each other in someone else's house for the first time after what they'd just done was going to be a little awkward to say the least. Because somehow, this wasn't like the times he'd fucked around with other dudes when he was a kid. That was truly nothing more than a game, but this – this – was getting both of them way, way too caught up to come even close to that level of casualness. All he'd wanted to do, watching his screen as Patrick's fingers moved over the lace, was to push his hand away and do it himself; but he really couldn't tell if that was because he literally couldn't and he obstinately wanted to do what he wasn't able, or because, after Patrick moved so he inadvertently placed both his face and his hips in shot, Joe really wanted to be the one making him do that.

By the time he rolled out of bed to head to Pete's, a deliberate half-hour late in the hope that Patrick would get there first, he'd only had a couple of hours' sleep. He was tense and nervous, and wasn't totally sure that he hadn't brought about the band's apocalypse with his persistent teasing.
In the car on the way over, he even considered turning around and heading home; but the truth was, he really kind of wanted to see Patrick. Maybe not at Pete's house, but he didn't have much choice about that, now – they couldn't both take a raincheck, it'd look too suspicious. But as anxious as he was, there was a small knot of excitement in the pit of his stomach.

When they'd signed off the night before it had been awkward and stilted, sure, but considering what they'd done, it could have been much worse. It was just weird doing that with someone and being unable to give them a kiss – or at least a hug – at the end of it. Obviously, that hadn't been necessary with most of his previous experiences, because trying to hug a pal after a circle jerk would probably have ruined his already poor reputation forever. And gotten him a smack in the face. But this was, no matter how he looked at it, Not The Same. In a circle, you were getting off at the same time as your friends; not for your friends or because of your friends or over your friends (or, you weren't supposed to be).

Yeah. This was different.
He'd hoped that Patrick would get to Pete's first, so that he could maybe gauge from his reaction whether he'd said anything to Pete, but when Joe rolled up a deliberate half-hour late, Patrick's car wasn't in the drive.
"Did I get my times wrong, or something?" he asked, the moment Pete opened the door. "I thought I was late..."

Pete grinned at him lasciviously. "I thought maybe you'd stayed over or something, what with you leaving together last night, kind of..."

Joe stared at him. "What?"

"Never mind. Lunchbox is coming later or something... he wasn't totally coherent when he called, honestly."

"He wasn't?"

"Nah... said something about not being able to sleep, or whatever. He's gonna show up in a couple of hours or something."

A couple of hours turned into five, and it was almost four o'clock before Patrick showed up. He appeared in the doorway to the yard, where Joe was sitting on the bench around the pool and playing with Hemmy, looking as though he hadn't slept at all. He was wrapped up in a hoodie, even though it wasn't remotely cold out, and had his hat pulled way down over his eyes. His entire body language suggested that he was on the verge of fight or flight and that seriously couldn't be good.

"Hey," Joe tried, not sure how to approach him but not wanting to look as though he was ignoring him, either, because that would be just plain rude.

"Hi."

"You okay?"

Patrick took a hesitant step outside, glancing up toward the balcony outside the living room, and then walked over to where Joe was sitting. "I don't know."

"You don't?" Joe asked, starting to feel deeply nervous.

"Last night – "

"I haven't told him. I haven't said anything, dude."

"Good. But. Last night..."

"Yeah?"

Patrick gave a short huff and moved to pull Joe out of view of the house.

"Dude?"

Patrick didn't say anything, he just gave him a determined look and yanked him into an abrupt kiss. It only lasted a few seconds, but when Patrick pulled away and straightened his cap, Joe was left spluttering in surprise.

"Now," Patrick began firmly, "that's it, okay? We're done. You've had your little thrill, it's out of your system. Okay?"

"Um..."

"Don't you dare move the goal posts on this, Joe. Don't you dare."

"I wasn't, but – "

"No."

Joe found himself glancing back to make sure Pete wasn't on his way out with the drinks he'd promised, and trying to ignore the dog attempting to climb up on his knee. "You can't just... Last night was – "

"A one-off."

"But I just... like... Are you serious?"

"Am I laughing?"

"No, but – last night was awesome, I was hoping that, like..." he gave a one-shouldered shrug and tugged at the pocket of Patrick's hoodie, as if that somehow meant something, "we could see what happened next, basically."

"I'm telling you what's happening next, though: nothing. You got what you wanted."

"I got more than I wanted, actually," Joe told him, wondering how he'd ever anticipated anything different to this. When they'd signed off the night before it had been awkward and surreal; the virtual equivalent of a stiff hug and a quick exit; it was hardly an invitation for more. "I just wanted to play dress-up. You're the one who like, started jerking off over it."

"We're just gonna pretend this never happened, Joe, okay?"

"Well, no, not really, dude."

"What do you mean, 'no'? You can't just -"

"I kind of think you're being a dick, honestly..." Joe told him, folding his arms and scuffing at the ground with his toe. "I mean... I don't get why you're pretending you weren't like, majorly into it."

Patrick scowled at him, his face bright red, and didn't answer.

"No, dude, seriously. I want an actual like, explanation."

"I don't do that."

"Well, you totally did last night. Last night you did it all by yourself and like, a week ago you were joining in without even getting asked, so..."

"Yeah, but I didn't want to."

Joe stared at him, quite unable to rationalise this level of blind denial. "So, like... let me get this straight. Or, y'know... 'straight'... or whatever. You gave me sexy little panties, and told me they made you think of me. You then basically got off to a picture of me wearing them, while listening to me having some personal time in my own bunk. And then – and like, I'm prepared to give you the actual wearing the panties thing because, like, I did encourage you – "

"You blackmailed me!"

"I didn't blackmail you into fapping off over me on your webcam, though, man. And I seriously, seriously did not blackmail you into just like, kissing me when you got here. So, dude, I don't know where you're getting this crazy idea that you like 'don't do that', because you've been a pretty shitty job of not doing it, so far."

Patrick looked away, suitably chastened, and adjusted his hat.

"I'm not saying you're gay or anything, dude, 'cause like I said, I don't even think it's about me, it's about the panties or whatever. I'm just saying that like... it's pretty obvious you're into it and there's nothing wrong with that, basically."

"I can name you like twenty people who'd say different, just off the top of my head."

"Who cares?" Joe shrugged, because really, who cared? "We're adults. It doesn't mean anything! Nobody's getting hurt. Nobody has to like, know, except you and me... You were totally into it, I know you were, so why give up? That seems like, pretty dumb to me..."

"You just... you over-simplify everything, Joe! In our position people do care what happens in our private lives and we can't just – "

"Why not, though? Seriously? Because unless you wanna keep kind of like, shouting about it where all Pete's neighbours can hear, or want to like, post the video on YouTube, the only people who're gonna know, is you and me."

For a minute, Patrick just stood there, chewing the edge of his nail and not looking at him.

"It's just a thing. It's not like we even touched each other, dude."

Lifting his head just enough to see him under his cap, Patrick gazed at Joe unblinkingly for a few moments, then shook his head and wandered back to the house without saying anything else.

----

Pete was just walking back into the living room with his phone, when Patrick got upstairs. "You find Joe?"

"Why?"

"'Cause he's in the yard and I thought that's where you were going, before, or whatever..."

"Oh. Yeah. I did."

"You're not still mad at him for getting you to drive him home, last night, are you?" Pete smirked, shaking his laces out of Hemmy's mouth and giving the puppy an encouraging prod towards the sofa with his foot.

"What? No. We're fine. There's nothing going on, it's just too hot outside. Okay?"

Spreading his palms in a gesture of "Just asking!" Pete rolled his eyes and made his way over to the balcony doors. "Yo – Trohman, come inside, dude. The princess is afraid of burning her pretty little nose, or whatever..."

"You are such a dick."

"Yeah, but I'm the only one you've got."

Ordinarily, the comment would have resulted in a kick in the shin and a bitchy retort, but today Patrick was just really not in the mood for casual emasculation. "Hey, you know what?" he snapped, tugging his keys from his pocket, pointedly. "You go hang out in the yard with Joe, okay? I'll just go home."

"What the fuck? I'm just kidding, dude!"

"Yeah, well I'm not in the mood, right now. I'll speak to you tomorrow or something, okay?"

"What? No – stay!"

"No."

Pete followed him to the front door, looking wounded and perplexed. "What the fuck happened to your sense of humour?"

"I forgot to take it off the carousel at LAX."

"Well, I'll call you or whatever..."

"If you have to."

Pete just stood at the top of the drive, Hemmy tucked into his arms, watching him leave. It made Patrick feel kind of shitty for being pissy with him, but he'd already spent all night and the better part of the afternoon freaking out about the whole thing with Joe and what it meant for him. It was like losing some part of his identity that'd he'd been totally comfortable with. He was a straight dude in his early twenties. It was that simple. One day, he was going to find a new girlfriend – one who wouldn't cheat on him while he was on tour – and he was going to marry her and have a family and that would be that.

His life plan had not, at any point, featured Joe or panties or pleasuring himself on webcam for him or anyone else. He didn't want this. He hadn't planned this and he wasn't going to deal with it or indulge it any more than he already had done.

It had just been a long time. That was all. It was a familiarity thing; Joe was an extremely close friend and the panties made it just feminine enough for boundaries to be blurred. That's all it was, whatever Joe wanted to think. It was an accident, not some kind of sign of repressed desire. As soon as he got home, he'd take the stupid panties and throw them in the trash and that would be it. Joe would just have to get over it, or find someone else to play with. Pete would probably jump at the chance to put on girls' underwear and show someone his dick.

Every traffic light on the way home seemed to turn red just to piss him off; especially the ones opposite the giant billboards all around town, of some woman wearing nothing but a man's shirt and a pair of panties and advertising some mysterious product he was never quite able to identify. It was like the whole world knew what he'd done and was rubbing it in his face. The wedding dress shop opposite his apartment was having some kind of special sale on bridal underwear, too, and had embroidered undergarments suspended in the window display; it had been there ever since he got back from the tour, but he'd only noticed it that afternoon when he'd gotten in the car to head to Pete's. It made him kind of paranoid.

He hesitated as he got out of his car, glowering at the arrangement as if it was a personal insult, not noticing two young women walking past until they were snickering at him as if he was a dirty old man leering at women's knickers. No doubt that would be in some asshole's gossip column within two hours... And fuck you very much for that.

When he got into the apartment, the first channel on the TV was showing a rerun of some kind of Next Top Model underwear shoot; the second channel was a commercial for panty-liners with a helpful graphic illustration in case anyone was in any doubt as to what a pair of women's panties looked like. So he turned off the TV and logged into his computer – where the first email was spam inviting him to buy used panties from Japan.

It was actually starting to feel like a horror movie – like The Birds, or something – no matter where he turned, they were there. He'd slept on the sofa, the night before; being in the bedroom – the scene of the crime – was just too awkward. He'd had to take a shower and put on actual pyjamas and then curl up on the couch in the living room, because there was no way he was going to be able to get any sleep at all, laying there thinking about black lace and the look on Joe's face when he realised what Patrick was doing.

And it was all because of those stupid panties from the show. The ones Patrick had given him as a joke, and somehow Punk'd himself with in the process.

Because Joe had been right – he'd set it up, but Patrick had been the one to take it that far. Patrick was the one who couldn't stop himself. Without even thinking about it, he clicked through the folders on his computer and brought up the photograph Joe had sent him, over-exposed and full-screen, as if he'd look at it again and decide that no, despite jerking off to the thought of his friend wearing them and despite watching him jack off in a pair, there was really nothing appealing about them after all.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He was blaming Joe for it, but Joe was just playing with him, and deep down, Patrick knew that. He couldn't blame him for taking things too far when he genuinely believed he was enlightening Patrick to some simplistically brilliant Karma Sutra of self-abuse. It was just that if he didn't blame Joe, it mean that it was his problem and he didn't want it to be his problem, because he didn't want to have to deal with it. Just walking into his own bedroom was hard enough.

He picked the panties up from the floor, intending to take them to the kitchen and throw them in the trash – but standing there, feeling the delicate lace on his fingers, he couldn't do it. Instead, he sank down onto the floor beside the bed and stared at them, running his hands over the soft fabric. Already, memories from the night before sprang to mind; the soft sounds from his laptop speakers, the shine of the lamplight on black and the feel of the lace against his skin – of knowing that Joe was watching...

That part was real, whether he wanted it to be or not. He could tell himself over and over that he hadn't wanted it – but at that point, he did.

Instead of throwing the panties in the trash, he threw them into the washer-dryer with the rest of his laundry and switched it on (he didn't plan on needing them again, but if someone found them it was definitely better that they found a clean pair that they couldn't prove were his) and then grabbed his wallet and keys from the living room. He was going to the mall, and he was going to get this out of his system.

----

It was late when Joe stepped out of the elevator, pulling his keys out of his pocket as he walked and fumbling for the right one. He'd stayed at Pete's long after he'd intended to go, playing computer games until it got dark and then lounging on the balcony with the dog, talking about nothing and trying not to think about the fight that afternoon or what he was going to have to do to smooth things over. He'd left a message on Patrick's house line on the way home, just checking in and telling him he'd come by in the afternoon, if Patrick was going to be around – all the while quite sure Patrick was listening and ignoring him.

As it turned out, Patrick wasn't at home at all; he was sitting outside Joe's front door, propped against the wall with his knees drawn up and his arms folded over them. He looked asleep, at first, but at the sound of the keys jangling he lifted his head and scrambled to his feet.

"Um... hi."

"What're you doing here?" Joe asked, blinking at him and leaning around him to unlock his door.

"I just, um... I needed to," Patrick explained, without really clarifying anything.

"Well, are you like, coming in, man? People get kind of pissy with strangers lurking around the corridors late at night, usually..."

Patrick didn't even answer, he just slid past him into the apartment and Joe started to suspect that maybe Patrick was drunk. Really, really drunk.

"So... you like, needed something, huh?" Joe prompted, toeing off his shoes and dropping his keys onto the table just inside the door without bothering to turn the light on.

"Yeah," Patrick nodded back. "Yeah, see I did. Because, um... it turns out I'm a total dick."

"That's hardly news, man."

"Joe, I'm serious – really serious."

"Because of today?"

"Because of today. And last night. And the whole thing on the bus... I'm just a dick and I needed to tell you that..."

Smirking and giving him a half-shrug, Joe bumped him in the shoulder and told him, "That's still not news, dude. But it's nothing anyway – forget about it. Do you want some coffee or something?"

"No – Joe, I can't."

"Well, I've got like sodas and stuff without caffeine or whatever," Joe offered, heading toward the kitchen and assuming that Patrick would follow. When he turned to hand him a can of Crush, though, Patrick wasn't there; he was still at the end of the darkened hall, looking like he was trying to remember where he'd left his keys. "Patrick?"

"I'm not sure I should be here."

"No, you should be kind of like, up here getting your drink, man."

"The thing is," Patrick began, ignoring the can in his hand altogether and pulling a small, plastic bag from his pocket; bunching it together in his hands, "I've kind of got something for you. But I don't know if I... if y'know: I should. Or not. It just... seemed like a good idea at the time."

Sliding the can onto the kitchen worktop, Joe wandered back out into the shadows of the hall. "What is it?"

"Well. The thing is, y'know... I'm pretty good at ignoring things I don't like to think about. And I don't like it a whole lot when – when I can't ignore things. Y'know?"

"Yeah... but you've always been a stubborn asshole, dude. It's just you. It's fine."

"Yeah, but it's not, because I'm blaming you for my own shit, and that's not fair!"

"You mean, like last night?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I mean. Last night."

"Look, dude – if you want it to be a one-time thing, then that's like, fine... I was just saying – "

"But what if I don't?"

For a moment or two, Joe just gazed at him in the light spilling from the kitchen and tried to figure out if Patrick was serious or just speaking hypothetically. The last thing he wanted was to make assumptions and say the wrong thing.

"Because... after I left you at Pete's, earlier, I was kind of thinking and... I thought maybe I was being kind of rash. And unfair. And actually pretty dishonest, all things considered, y'know?"

"Patrick – "

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I just need to loosen up and enjoy what feels good and not care what anyone else thinks. Maybe... maybe I even kind of want this."

"Want what?" Joe asked, swallowing with difficulty; partly in anticipation, partly afraid that the pendulum had swing too far in the opposite direction.

Patrick finally moved away from the door and pressed his plastic bag into Joe's hands. "I thought if I went to someplace where they were everywhere, I'd just get used to it. I'd get over it. But all that happened is that I started thinking about it more. And I couldn't stop thinking about it. Or you – last night – and then I saw these, and I just... I don't even know. But they're yours. If you want them."

The brand across the side of the bag read 'Victoria's Secret' but he'd already known what was in there. The material was delicate and luxurious under his fingers as he pulled them out, his stomach already a little tight with the urge to slip into them; wondering if Patrick had thought buy some for himself.

"They're awesome..." he whispered, smiling slightly. "I think I should try them on."

"Now?"

"Well... unless you want to like, go home and get online first..."

"No! No... no more webcams..."

"Then maybe just like, a litre of vodka and a couple of shots of tequila?" Joe joked, playfully twirling the panties around his finger by the label.

Patrick managed a jerky laugh and then allowed himself to be pulled toward the bedroom. He watched self-consciously, saying nothing as Joe tugged off his clothes, one item at a time, and laid them over the chair in the corner, but he looked away awkwardly Joe slipped his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and carefully pulled them down; they were going to need to come off – there was no way around that. When he'd stepped into his panties, though – the dark blue, satiny material and cream lace clinging to his skin gently – he moved closer to where Patrick sat, perched on the edge of the bed, and ran his fingers over his shoulder, encouragingly.

"So... are they as awesomely hot as you were expecting?" he asked, turning his hips to show Patrick the smooth curve of his ass – only partially covered by the soft satin, cut to expose the lower third of each cheek, tantalisingly – and pretending he didn't feel just a little ridiculous.

On the bed, Patrick merely nodded; his lip clamped nervously between his teeth and his eyes wide behind his glasses.

"Do you like... want to touch, or just look? Because, I mean... they feel pretty amazing," Joe continued, stroking his thumb down the ruched detailing at each hip, punctuated with a tiny cream bow.

"Uh... well. B-both. Maybe."

Reaching down, he took Patrick's hand and pressed it to the material, guiding his fingertips over the delicate trim and smiling just a little as Patrick's hand pressed more firmly in exploration. "See? They feel hot, don't they?"

"Y-yeah. They do," Patrick nodded, leaning forward a hesitant fraction, and then drawing back again, a second hand moving up to match the other, and then simultaneously running around to stroke along the lace arcing across Joe's skin.

It was hard not to press forward, prompt him, so Joe just reached down and carefully removed Patrick's cap, tossing it to the chest of drawers behind him (and missing) and stroking his fingers gently through the fine hair beneath it. "I should probably warn you that I never really like... planned for this awesome eventuality or anything, so I'm kind of. Just going with it, basically."

"Me too."

"I don't suppose that you kind of like... got yourself any, did you?"

Licking his lip self-consciously, Patrick shook his head. "No... but, I sort of..." he shrugged and looked down at his jeans. "I washed the ones you gave me."

"Yeah?"

"It's not... I mean, I wasn't expecting this or anything, but..."

"Where are they, dude?"

Patrick almost laughed for a second, then leaned back a little and pulled up his t-shirt hesitantly, unbuttoning his jeans just enough to expose the pale blue fabric underneath. "...be prepared, right?"

Joe couldn't quite smother a chuckle; "You're such a fruity little dude, sometimes..." he teased, but he was already pushing Patrick's hands away, grinning as he moved to the zipper and pulling away the denim to properly expose the garment underneath; his thumb brushing tentatively at the lace as he did so, eliciting a small, startled gasp from Patrick at the touch.

"Last night seriously, seriously has nothing on this," he whispered, leaning close to Patrick's face for a moment and bringing them almost cheek-to-cheek before he pulled away – the bottom of Patrick's t-shirt and hoodie grasped in his hands. "Shall I like...?"

Barely managing a discernible nod, Patrick paused to kick his Nikes across the room and raised his arms in consent.

"Cool," Joe murmured, remembering at the last minute to take off Patrick's glasses for him and tossing them toward the relative safety of the pillows before he tugged at Patrick's clothes again.

Patrick was barely free before he folded his arms around himself, covering his belly.

"Oh dude, seriously. You're sitting on my bed like, wearing panties and you're hiding your stomach like that's the embarrassing part? Really?"

Patrick actually laughed at himself a little and semi-reluctantly shifted his hands back to Joe's panties, resting them on his hips lightly and tracing the pale curves of lace back and forth across the front of his thigh with his thumbs dangerously close to his crotch. "I feel like I'm doing a Rubik's cube or something..."

"At least we never went for the whole bra thing..." Joe reassured him, one hand pressed into the mattress, the fingers of the other following the edges of the frills over Patrick's pale skin, wanting to tug on them and lift them one-by-one and discover what lay beneath them. He was about to suggest Patrick lay back when he did exactly the opposite, leaning forward and pushing Joe away slightly to peel off his socks and toss them in the direction of his clothes before pulling Joe back to him. Lip once again clasped between his teeth, he looked up at him questioningly, waiting for some sort of assent before he carefully leaned in and nuzzled at the groove where Joe's thigh met his torso. His breath tickled enticingly at Joe's skin as he exhaled, hands coasting back to Joe's ass, fingertips sliding cautiously under the lace and satin and pulling him closer.

"Oh. Oh, okay."

There were teeth tugging almost imperceptibly at the material, then lips, moving gently over his hip – then back – and Joe could only push his fingers into the back of Patrick's hair and choke back a breathless whimper; suddenly and unavoidably aroused under the fragile fabric.

Patrick almost jerked away at first, as if he hadn't been expecting it, and Joe truly believed for a moment that it had all been far too good to be true and Patrick was going to grab his things and flee; but he didn't. He just gave Joe a surprised, delighted look and then tentatively brushed his fingers down to stroke lightly at Joe's balls and ducked closer again to press his mouth where his fingers had been.

"Fuck, dude."

"Okay?" Patrick asked, hurriedly sitting up as if he thought he'd done something wrong.

"Yeahyeahyeah – yeah, it's like... it's awesome," Joe assured him quickly, afraid of putting him off. "Just... I kind of can't do anything for you, like this."

"Oh. Well, I mean – you don't have to – "

"No, dude, I want to. That's kind of the point... Just, like, scoot back or something."

Patrick did as he was told, sliding back across the covers and pulling his knees up slightly, as though he suddenly felt exposed, while Joe climbed onto the bed beside him.

"I've totally seen it all before, dude," Joe assured him, trying for a mischievous grin and reasonably certain that he'd faltered into predatory creep, unaided by the fact that he was running his hand down the inside of Patrick's thigh as he did it.

"When?"

"Um. Well, last night... and in the pool that time Pete stole your shorts... and we get changed together every night on tour, basically."

"Oh... well, I guess."

"Look, dude, I know this is like, 'all about the panties' or whatever, but I wouldn't be doing this if you didn't look totally fucking hot in the panties in the first place. But I mean... if you just want to spend the next hour just like, gumming at the party favours I could roll with that..."

Snorting, Patrick unfolded his legs and facetiously spread them as wide as he could across the bed, propped back on his elbows.

"Yeah, I didn't think you'd go for that," Joe grinned, shifting to climb astride Patrick's left thigh, playfully poking at his navel and pinging the elastic on his waistband before making less high-spirited strokes down the layers of lace. "I love these fucking things..."

"I noticed," Patrick mumbled, running his fingers up to trace the neatly stitched ruffles at Joe's hip and subtly sliding down to rub where the material was pulled tight.

It was hard to breathe properly and maintain some of the composure he really thought he should, even with Patrick palming him through the satin and lace and laying under him with chewed lips parting under every little shift of his fingers. He couldn't help leaning forward to rest on one arm – he didn't have the athletic stamina to maintain awkward positions for more than a minute or two, and he wasn't going to pretend – but it brought about a natural grind against Patrick's hip that drew sudden, stuttering gasps from both of them; the dragging lace pulling at the panties and heightening the friction for them both.

Patrick issued a barely-audible, "Jesus..." and slid his arm around Joe's waist, the other looping into the side of his underwear and using them to pull him off of his thigh and more squarely against his hips. For a moment, neither of them spoke; they just gazed at each other, holding back light pants of breath as Joe aligned himself between Patrick's parted thighs and lowered his weight to press himself down on top of him. Patrick's hips gave an involuntary jerk at the contact and surprised them both, sending Joe face-first into the covers over Patrick's shoulder and reducing them both to near-hysterical giggles.

"Patience, dude, patience," Joe grinned against Patrick's shoulder, taking the opportunity to pinch playfully at his nipple while his weight was still resting across Patrick's chest.

Retaliating with a sharp slap to Joe's semi-exposed ass, Patrick bucked his hips more deliberately and ordered, "Shut up and move."

Joe did; Patrick's hands reaching down to grasp his buttocks and guiding him into a motion that more or less worked for both of them, Joe's face still pressed into the crook of his neck until their breaths were rapid and ragged and Patrick pulled his hands away to push at Joe's shoulders.

"Move, dude. I need you to move back a little," he gasped, hurriedly moving one hand back down to pull them back together at the hip. "Just on your hands, I mean. I want to see."

"I don't think I can last that long, though..."

"You won't need to – I'm almost – "

"I mean my arms, dude, I'm not some kind of gymnast!"

"Just try."

His arms were shaking by the time Patrick writhed up against him, and both their panties began to grow sticky with the wetness seeping through them and spilled under waistbands at the last, graceless thrust as lace and satin were tugged aside or bunched under the friction.

"Fuck," Joe mumbled, allowing himself a well-deserved slump back to Patrick's shoulder and spreading his aching arms across the bed either side of them.

"Maybe next time," Patrick murmured back with a breathless burst of laughter and patted Joe's back approvingly. "I think I'm gonna need a couple of minutes."

----

For something that started out as a childish practical joke, it had the best outcome Joe could have imagined. Laying sprawled on his bed while Patrick reacquainted himself with the feel of the panties from that first, infamous photograph, the next morning, Joe decided he was going to have to start pushing his luck a little more often.

In fact, some nights during the months that followed, as they rocked out during the show, it was far more exciting to know what no one else did – beneath their jeans, where boxers should be, were sexiest strips of satin and lace that the Victoria's Secret website had to offer.

I just want to add a huge thanks to heyginger & untelling for a lot of last-minute hand-holding and betaing, and being very patient about my freak outs when I decided to scrap the original post. ♥ You girls are amazing.