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“With my life,” replied Will.
“Then that’s good enough for me,” said Patrick. “I like them. I hope they like me. I don’t think they’d rat us out either.”
“OK then.” Will picked up a pen from the desk. “Just promise me,” he said, his eyes drifting from the bed behind him to Patrick, “that it will be worth it.”
Patrick’s breathing deepened. He approached Will, towering over him until he backed up into the desk, leaned down, and whispered in his ear: “I promise.”
His fingers traced down Will’s arm, extracted the pen from his fingers, and, still leaning over him, signed his own half of the contract, then handed it back to Will. Will turned to face the desk and wrote his own name at the bottom. He felt the heat of Patrick behind him, the sheer bulk of him, and coyly moved ever so slightly backward until there it was: unmistakable hardness. He dropped the pen onto the desk with a satisfying plonk, and they both watched as it rolled backward toward the wall, vanishing over the edge of the polished wood.
“Signed, sealed, del—”
He felt Patrick’s lips against the side of his neck, nuzzling him. Patrick’s arms enclosed him from behind, one of them circling his chest to hold Will tight against him while his other hand lightly caressed his lower stomach through his clothes, drifting up and down between his navel and his jeans, his touch infuriatingly light even as it strayed lower. Will bucked into his hand slightly and was pulled back by Patrick’s other arm, a vein bulging visibly in his bicep. Patrick spun him around and hauled him up onto the desk, and Will immediately, instinctively wrapped his legs around Patrick’s waist.
Following the same unspoken impulse, Patrick gripped his buttocks firmly and picked him up, making Will gasp in surprise.
“I’m sorry,” Patrick said, bringing his head back. “Is this too much?”
“Not even close,” said Will, pulling Patrick back to him. “Don’t worry,” he added. “I can handle it.”
Patrick smiled, touching his tongue between his teeth, and something about it made Will even harder. Then he went to carry Will toward the bed, but paused on the way—how big was this room?—to pin him violently to the wall. Will yelped upon impact, and Patrick paused.
“You’ll let me know if I go too far?” Patrick asked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Patrick.” Will pushed him away now, held him at arm’s length so Patrick could see the earnestness in his eyes, and told him with every ounce of feeling he had: “Ruin me.”
* * *
•••••••••
The longer they kissed, the more their hands explored each other, the hungrier Patrick seemed to become, and Will didn’t dare even ask how long it had been since this man, this hewn sculpture of a man, was last touched. Last felt the impossible heat of a body on his. Will committed himself to Patrick’s pleasure, to help him make up for lost time, to remind him just how good this could feel. To reintroduce him to a part of himself that he had kept locked away, to reassure him that his desires were not wrong. To draw that side out, to wrap him in his arms, and to say, You are safe here.
Hours later, when concepts like time had lost any concrete meaning, Will sat up in bed gingerly, wincing in delicious soreness.
“I should go,” he said.
“You really shouldn’t,” retorted Patrick, yanking him back down like a rag doll. Will sighed and consented to being spooned for a little while longer, their breathing finally returned to normal, chests rising and falling in unison.
“I just thought,” he said, “it would probably be better if I left under cover of darkness, rather than in the harsh light of day?”
“Damn.” Patrick kissed the back of his head softly. “You’re probably right.”
They fell silent again for another minute; then Patrick asked, “Can I see you tomorrow?”
“Dylan’s band are performing downstairs at the Flapper tomorrow,” said Will. “Margo and I agreed to go, because that’s the kind of thing a supportive mother and gay uncle do. They’re going to hate it.”
“Oh. Well, have fun.”
“Ugh!” Will rolled onto his other side so he could face Patrick. “The implication was that I wanted you to come with me.”
“Yeah?”
“Obviously. Christ. It could be. I don’t know. A date.”
“I’d like to,” said Patrick. “Really. I want that. To go on a date with you in public. But there’s the whole…” He nodded over to the desk, where a document forbidding exactly this lay signed and dated. “Getting into full drag again to go to a gig unharassed sounds like it might draw focus.”
“You wouldn’t need to get all bitched up this time,” said Will. “I’ve thought about it, and it’s kind of genius actually.”
“What?”
