Identity Check

Chapter 9

Patrick left Colin and Ray talking and ran out into the club again, across the floor to the front of house and outside. David was waiting out there, wearing an overcoat and pacing up and down. His frown cleared into a smile when Patrick appeared.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming."

"Sorry. Got caught up talking to someone. We getting a cab?"

"Only if you want to. I've got a flat on the Quayside, I thought it would be nice to walk there."

"Okay." Patrick pulled on the gloves he had in his pocket and they set off, falling into step side by side.

"You aren't too cold?" David asked, as the chilly night air made Patrick hunch his shoulder. January still had its claws into February, with no signs of an early spring yet.

"No, I'm fine," Patrick said. The cold was a price worth paying to walk with this man, on this clear, windless night, the stars crusted thick above them. The full moon floated like a Chinese lantern and Patrick started to understand the meaning of the word romance. He stole a glance at David to see him doing the same thing back and they smiled at each other.

"So, ah what do you do for a living?" Patrick asked, thinking he should try for some vaguely intelligent conversation.

"Senior sales exec," David said. "Software business."

"You're young to be so senior."

"I've been working there since I was sixteen and fetching the tea, so I've got more experience than you might think to look at me."

Patrick nodded, impressed. "It's a beautiful night," he observed, looking up at the clear sky.

"You make it more so."

Patrick blushed and felt like a fool again. How did this guy make him feel like such a blushing virgin? Maybe that confidence he exuded. A man in his prime, physically, socially. Russ had some of that same confidence, but not nearly as much as David. Only Simon compared.

Dammit, why hadn't they taken a cab? They could be in bed right this second. He tried to hold his own in the conversation, but his thoughts were scattered, elsewhere, running on ahead, to that flat, to that bed. When David let Patrick into the huge, open-plan flat, Patrick almost expected to meet himself there, scowling and tapping his foot.

"Coffee?" David said, as he hung up their coats. He headed for the kitchen area.

"Bloody hell," Patrick said, staring at the coffee machine. "Did you burgle a Starbucks or something?"

David laughed and patted the big machine, carefully avoiding any of the sparkling chrome surfaces. "Good coffee is important. Do you want espresso? Or a cappuccino? I can make whatever you want."

"Espresso's fine." He sat on high stool, legs dangling, feet not touching the floor, watching David move around, making the coffee. So much strength and grace there, so sexy.

In a few minutes David had two shots of espresso ready and brought them over to Patrick. The tiny glass demitasses made his already good-sized hands look even larger and Patrick imagined those hands roaming over his bare skin, leaving it tingling where they touched.

He started to slide off the stool, but David moved closer to keep him there. He handed one cup to Patrick and put his free hand on Patrick's knee. Gentle pressure cued Patrick to part his legs and David stepped closer still, standing between Patrick's thighs.

Kiss me, Patrick thought. Kiss me right the fuck now. But David didn't. He sipped his espresso, eyes locked with Patrick. With a small, frustrated sigh, Patrick sipped his own coffee.

"Damn, this is good," he said, momentarily distracted from his frustration by the excellent coffee.

"My mother is half Italian," David said. "She taught me how to make it."

"You get your dark and handsome looks from her too?" Patrick asked, smiling.

"Dark, yes. Handsome is a matter of opinion of course."

"It's my opinion." Kiss me. Now. Please. Fuck it. What am I waiting for?

He leaned in and kissed David, tasted coffee on his lips and breath. A short kiss to start, just to open business, give some encouragement, then he moved back to see the reaction. David had closed his eyes. When he opened them, the combination of desire and warmth in them just slayed Patrick. Slayed him dead.

Patrick took David's cup and put that and his own down on the table. With their hands free at last, he pulled David close, for a real kiss this time. Feeling wanton and already hugely turned on, he wrapped his legs around David, pulling him still closer, holding him there. David's body pressed up against him and excited him with its taut, strong muscles.

David kissed his way down Patrick's face and neck, with a side trip to his earlobe to nibble at it and make Patrick gasp. He moved on and his lips caressed Patrick's throat, his tongue flickering gently into the hollow between the collarbones. That made Patrick moan loudly and grind his hips into David. They were both hard already and rubbed against each other through their clothes.

"Oh, you're ready, aren't you, sweet thing?" David said, a teasing laugh in his voice.

"God, yes. Please, David, I need you."

"I could do you right here on the table. Would you like that?"

"I'd love it." He lay back, supported on his elbows. "Do it."

David laughed and grabbed his shirt front to pull him back up and draw him close for another long kiss.

"The bed's more comfortable," he said when they broke apart. He stroked Patrick's hair and kissed his ear again, getting an even stronger reaction than before. Patrick thought he would come right there and then. "What do you want, sweet thing?"

"You. I want you. Now."

David stepped back to let Patrick slide off the stool, but not far enough back so Patrick wasn't forced to press up against him when he did. Forced wasn't the word though. Patrick wanted to press so hard they'd touch skin to skin right through their clothes.

"David, please." It came out as a moan.

"Shh," David said, soothingly. "This way now." He took Patrick's hand and led him out of the kitchen. But Patrick pulled the hand away and started to shed his clothes as he went, though he felt ashamed of the hurry he was in. He envied David's self-control. Though flushed and already hard, he was managing to make it to the bedroom without tearing his clothes off.

The bedroom had a king sized bed. It probably had some other furniture too, but Patrick didn't notice any. He headed straight for the bed, scrambled onto it and lay on his back. His shirt, shoes and socks were already gone. In a second he threw his belt across the room and reached for his fly button.

"Let me," David said, kneeling beside him on the bed. He stayed Patrick's hand and took over the job himself, undoing the fly and then pulling off trousers and briefs in a swift movement. He still had all of his own clothes on, except for his shoes, that he'd kicked off before he climbed on the bed.

It felt strangely familiar to Patrick to be naked with a fully-clothed man, like when he'd modelled nude for Simon. That same tension and frisson of the forbidden. They didn't stay that way for long though. David undressed himself quickly and Patrick drank in the sight of his cock at last. That reminded him of Simon too. Big.

"I only top," David said. "That okay?"

"Fine, fine, great." Patrick liked to switch sometimes, had done with some of the men he'd been with. But the ones that really did it for him, Simon, Russ, now David, the ones that really drove him out of his mind with lust, were tops. He'd wondered what that said about him, but had never managed to come to a conclusion. Mostly because whenever he thought about it he ended up having to go to his room and have some alone time.

"Get on your hands and knees," David said, his voice authoritative. Patrick obeyed the order without hesitation, while David grabbed condoms and lube from the nightstand. After only a moment or two of prep, Patrick was begging David to take him, fearing this would be over before David even entered him. His arms and legs were already shaking as if he'd done a marathon followed by five hundred push-ups and he hoped they'd support him for more than ten seconds!

David obliged him, pushing in while one hand reached around to stroke Patrick's cock. Patrick moaned, head flopping forward, hair falling around his face. He gritted his teeth against the first pain of it. He was big. Breathe through it...

David adjusted a little, changed the angle, and Patrick yelled incoherently, throwing his head back, as the pleasure became intense... became incredible. No admonitions about yelling came from David, the way they had from Russ or others. Either the walls here were thick enough to muffle the cries, or David didn't care if his neighbours heard him making a man howl with ecstasy. They could have crowded in to watch right then, Patrick wouldn't have cared, wouldn't have noticed. All he cared about, all he could feel, was David's cock, David's hand.

He tried hard to hang on as long as possible, at least until David was ready to come too. But it was no good, or it was too good. Too much. Too intense. His mind whited-out in orgasm, unaware if he was yelling, or screaming, barely aware of his own name. Just a mindless body filled with fire.

Patrick flopped onto his stomach, unable to support himself any more. David followed him down and grew frenzied, the control he'd displayed before gone now. Only a moment passed before he loosed a sharp cry, his body tensing, shuddering as he came. Seconds passed, Patrick counted, one two three, and David collapsed on top of him, panting.

The weight should have been unpleasant, especially with their hot, sweating skin pressed together. But Patrick felt reassured by it and was sorry when David moved off him, carefully withdrawing from Patrick. He rolled away to deal with the condom, then lay on his back and looked at Patrick, still panting and now grinning like a maniac.

"That..." he said, a laugh in his voice, pure joy. "That... was fucking incredible."

Patrick wanted to speak, but didn't dare to, afraid he was going to say something stupid.

Like, 'I love you.'