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Patrick's not really a planner in bed, like Jonny is known for mapping out what he wants to do to Pat like he's a particularly tricky play and it's totally hot because sex with Jonny always is, even with a side of control freak and OCD. But the closest Pat gets to planning is in the shower when he's rubbin one out to whatever half-assed fantasy he cooks up about Jonny. He's not particularly picky, as long as it's Jonny and orgasms in some sort of combination then he's guaranteed to blow his load.
Then again, Tazer is always pushing him to be better—little psycho that he is—so it doesn't surprise Pat when he finds himself looking at a too tense, wound up Jonny and saying to himself, "Someone needs to fuck that douchebag silly".
And then obviously high-fiving himself because heyoh, that's totally his job.
Jonny loves his ass played with, as long as what's going inside of it isn't very big. Sadly, this means that two things that don't go anywhere near Jonny's ass are Pat's fist and his dick. Whatever. Pat's not too upset. Besides he has always has his mouth.
Which, surprisingly, is not too big for Jonny's ass.
Halle-fucking-lulah.
"We're going back to yours," Pat says after press. He can't stop smiling because they're in the playoffs, like, it's not a surprise with the season they've had but when it's like this, clinched and certain, he can't help but feel triumphant. And why not? They worked to get here. Streak or no, okay? They worked their asses off and it's something to be proud of.
But you wouldn't know that from looking at Tazer, who's gone from post-game smiles, coy media quips and total hero of children everywhere to tense and salty under the talk about playoffs in a matter of minutes. Pat knows he shouldn't blame the journos but it's hard not to. (He wants to hold a class on Jonny for them, teach them not to undo all of Patrick's hard work. He'd make them take notes and there would definitely be a pop quiz at the end. No multiple choice either. Essay only, the lazy fuckers.)
At first, Pat thinks it's because his empty netter put him ahead of Jonny in goals. Just because Jonny's Captain doesn't mean he still isn't a tantrum throwing bitchtit when it comes to losing anything—Mario Kart and goal scoring included. But Patrick catches that snippet of his interview, "always finds a way" with that stupid smug grin like Jonny personally assisted on every fucking goal, then jerked off to them later and that settles it. Jon's still a jackass but his mood isn't about Patrick being a clutch motherfucker.
Nah, it's about Jonathan Toews being an absolute control freak and how hockey isn't always about that.
So when Jonny makes a face, like he's about to tell Pat that he's going home alone, angrily crank off to game films and learn how to be better, Patrick pinches the skin underneath Jonny's arm until he yells a little and then says, "I'm driving".
He gets a dirty look when Jonny stomps off to shower, ass doing that judgey swagger that both infuriates and inspires—only solidifying the fact that Patrick totally made the right decision in taking some action. So yeah, Patrick's not a planner but when Jonny's being a tool, he can make an exception. He can step up when his captain needs him to rearrange that stick up his ass. (Pat would never remove it because Tazer's hoity, toity uptightness is mostly nice, like a warm blanket or that neighbor cat that hates you but you still attempt to pet it.)
In the car, Patrick keeps Tazer from slipping into the morose, defeated mood he gets in when he stops being angry. That mood is good sometimes because even Canadian hockeybots need to feel feelings every once in a while and Pat totally get it because more than half the time it's definitely him having feelings and Jonny doing his best to like micromanage them without getting any on him. Pat usually doesn't stop Jonny from being a broody cunt, however sad, emoting Jonny doesn't like to get laid. (That Jonny likes to eat beer battered fish and watch documentaries on the deep sea until he sinks into an eerie calmness that mimics normal people's reactions to smoking a blunt, eating a pot brownie and then going to town on a buffet.) So, in order to keep Jonny enraged and tetchy, Pat flips stations midway through songs, sings loudly along to Rhianna and drives really, really slowly.
The effect is a silently fuming Jonny. Unless you count the grind of his teeth as a noise.
Tazer practically leaps from the Hummer once Pat slows down enough to park. He slams the door and doesn't even grab his shit but Pat lets him go. If he wants to stew and act like a brat, Patrick is not going to stop him.
The hardest part of this entire thing is getting started.
By the time Pat gets up to Jonny's condo, he's mostly figured out what he's gonna do and it's only solidified when he finds Tazer staring off, enraged, into space while he finishes chugging a protein shake. Patrick knows there is a surplus of nasty, gritty tasting protein heavy drinks in Tazer's fridge but he likes to believe they're mostly for show. They're so gross. It's almost enough, thinking about how Jonny's mouth is gonna taste after that fucking shake to call it all off but then Jonny puts the cap on the bottle with a scowl and like, chucks it across the room. It hits the opposite wall with a dull clank.
Yeah, no.
So, Pat's decided on an element of surprise. Thankfully, they land on the bed, which is exactly what Patrick was aiming for when he tackled Jonny from behind. And since he and Jonny spent a significant amount time during their rookie year wrestling for the remote, Pat knows that if he gets Jonny on his stomach and then sits on his shoulders, knees clamping his head like a helmet, then Jonny can't get enough leverage to get up.
It's a nifty trick.
He adds the war-cry just for pizazz.
"Take that you salty cunt," Pat chirps, batting away at Jonny's flailing hand and ignoring the grunted screaming coming from Jonny's muffed mouth. "I'm not moving, you asshole. So get all your kicking out now because I have, like, plans and you won't be ruining them."
Tazer flails some more, like he's trying to try out his lame fighting skills on his bed instead of on the ice. But that's okay because the grunting just turns Patrick on and he uses the time to imagine exactly his course of action to get this party started.
The result is his semi-hard dick poking Jonny in the back of the head.
"Are you gonna calm down so we can bang or are you gonna waste my awesome boner for you by being a fuckstain?"
Jonny bites him on the knee through his dress pants but he does settle.
"Come on, Jonny," Pat says, sort of grinding his dick into Tazer's neck. "We had a good game. Let me show you."
He turns his head back into the mattress for about five seconds, which is just long enough for Patrick to think he read this one wrong and maybe Jonny needs space and not Pat but then Jonny turns his head again. Patrick catches himself wishing he factored a lot more kissing into this evening. Thankfully, Tazer ruins the moment.
"Fine," he spits, profile red and furious and incredibly douchey.
Patrick doesn't even hide his smug excitement because Jonny's already closing his eyes, like being the object of Pat's sexual desire is such a hardship. Which, whatever, okay—Pat is used to it because morning sex is the best start to the day and getting Tazer to wake up for sex is honestly sometimes the hardest part of Patrick's day (and dude, he works with some badass, sadomasochistic trainers at the UC). So yeah, Jonny acts all suffering but he would totally miss it okay? Morning blowjobs are like blue Gatorade—the best.
"Fine," Patrick mocks, all whiney and pissy like Tazer but he loosens his thigh clamp on Jonny's head. He's magnanimous like that. "Hands and knees, if you please."
Jonny snorts, but when Pat slides off of him, Jonny gets to his knees. His hands twitch because he either wants more instruction or he wants to leave. Pat shrugs. Surprise, surprise, Tazer's impatient.
"I'll get to it, you big baby," he says and he does. Undoing the buttons on Jonny's shirt is tricky but not impossible. And luckily Tazer has foregone an undershirt (he claims it's because he gets too hot but Patrick knows it's really because Jon is secretly behind Pat's Free Tazer's Nipples Campaign). Getting an undershirt off would be upsetting. He lets the shirt fall open while he works on Jonny's belt, dress pants and boxer briefs. He only gets distracted once, which is an achievement considering the amount of angry-flushed skin Tazer is threatening him with.
Pat divests Tazer of his pants and underwear, successfully ignoring Jonny's totally hard dick, in favor of smirking and tugging the dress shirt up but not undoing the cufflinks.
"Come on," Tazer grunts, flexing his hands underneath the excess fabric of his shirt. Pat just shakes his head and presses on Jonny's back until he flops down on his stomach, hissing when his dick hits the mattress.
They don't own cuffs or bondage rope because even though they both like to be held down and fucked on occasion, they're also realists. Their hands and wrists are pretty much indispensable. Millions of dollars rest on these hands. Goals and Cups and like, dreams and shit depend on their hands.
So they don't own restraints even if the likelihood that they would ever get hurt is miniscule. They make do though.
"Just keep them there."
"Why?"
Pat flicks his ear. "Cause I'm asking you to, dick."
"I don't hear any fucking asking," Jonny bitches but he doesn't rip the shirt cuffs off his wrists. Victory. Now that Pat doesn't have to worry about Jon keeping his hands where Patrick wants him, he can focus on other stuff.
Jon is nice to look at like this. He's all lean muscle—his shoulders not nearly as broad as Patrick's—and he seems to go on for days. Ogling Jonny like this is what Pat imagines watching a nice pair of legs is like for normal people: hot enough to make his dick leaky and weirdly inspiring.
He spends some time pushing at the tense muscles of Jonny's shoulders, while he kisses the awkwardly long slope of Tazer's neck. They're bunched because of his hands pulled taut above him but there's a heaviness about them that bugs Pat. So he bites them, sucking marks onto them as he pleases—as if he could coax the stubborn weight of the C (and Jonny's general crazy) out by the blunt pull of his teeth.
Pat knows he can't, doesn't even want to most of the time because Jonny is allowed to be Jonny always, ya know? But he makes a good effort. He licks and sucks his way down Tazer's back. He tastes like smooth, clean skin and Pat misses the salt of hard-earned sweat—of winning.
"We played beautiful fucking hockey today," Patrick says into the dip of Tazer's lower back. "Like, you've got to get that man. Even if I'm like Malkin levels of awesome because goals, you're not actually just an ugly face."
Pat reaches a hand around to roll his favorite nipple, the left one, around gently before he flicks it. Jonny doesn't make a sound but it still echoes like a challenge. Tazer has yet to embrace how pretty his nips are, which is stupid. Apparently, Jonny thinks it's embarrassing how tight and pointy they get when he's turned on because that's "a girl thing". You know what Pat has to say to that? Fuck the patriarchy, okay, and give him tight, unabashed Jonny nips to play with all day long.
But he digresses. Pat checks in with Jonny's face, mouth open and panting like the mouth breather he is, and then gives some attention to his second favorite nipple before getting back to sucking a hickey in the curve of Tazer's waist. Patrick loves this tapered, thinness on Jonny—a lankiness that Jon's not been able to shake no matter how much weight he puts on.
After sucking a purpling mark on Jonny's hip, Pat skips his massive ass and goes straight for Jonny's greatest weakness: his weirdly hairless thighs. They are proportional to his ass in their girth, meaty and strangely appealing in their smoothness. Patrick wants to wreck them and there is literally nothing stopping him.
Raking his fingernails, rough and uneven, down the backs and into the dip of his knees makes Jonny swallow a moan that is pure filth, even choked off. Pat does it again and again, rubbing his scruff all over the bulbous curve of Tazer's ass, until both his shiny, lady-smooth thighs are streaked with long, fingernail scratches and there is so much beard burn that it looks like Bollig made a guest appearance in their bedroom.
"Fuck," Jonny curses quietly and then sort of kicks Pat in the chest, like he's upset he's getting his thighs licked. They both know that's not true because Tazer's got the sleekest, most hairless, tree-trunk thighs in the entire NHL and he knows it. They're hella sensitive—as if he waxes them instead of the baby smoothness coming natural.
Either way, Jonny can front all he wants but Pat getting freaky with his thighs totally does it for him.
"Aww, come on Tazer," he taunts, tonguing the groove between Jonny's thighs and pillowy ass like it's a perfectly normal place to fuck his tongue into. "Reward yourself for all those points, Captain."
"Oh my god, stop talking."
Pat doesn't. He talks about what it's like to pass to Tazer, through defenders and over open ice, regardless if the puck ends up in the back of the net or not. He whispers about the sound of sticks hitting the boards in celebration as he bites and sucks on the inside of Jonny's illogically smooth inner thighs. He scrapes his teeth up the growing vee between Tazer's legs, as he spreads them wider in a fruitless attempt to grind his dick against the mattress as Pat makes a steady mess out of Jonny's skin. He whispers about what it's like to score off Jonny's hockey—how he never wants to go to his knees on the ice for anyone but Jonny.
"Fucking Christ, Kaner," he curses, shoving his ass back onto the scruff of Patrick's chin and sounding both pissed off and incredibly monotone. It's perfect and like, Pat figures he should probably reward perfection.
Patrick fingers spread Jonny easily and it's too good not to scrap his chin, scruffy cheeks and all, up the valley of Jonny's ass.
"You sonofabitch," Tazer spits out. And Patrick hears the thump of his fists hitting the headboard as he thrashes as much as possible with Pat lying on his legs and spreading his ass like he's totally easy.
Eating out Tazer is not a hardship. He kind of writhes, cursing and thrashing but if his hands were free, he'd be reaching back to pull Pat's mouth closer. As it is, he just uses those talented hips to grind back into Patrick's face. He tries to keep his teeth to himself but can't really help but drag them over the soft skin of Jonny's balls and hearing him curse Pat with a viciousness that he usually reserves for legal mumbojumbo or worse, Canucks.
Usually, he tries to keep the excessive saliva to a minimum because Tazer's a princess but tonight he spits on Jonny's hole and pries it open with his finger tips until he can get his tongue up inside of him. Jonny is still cursing, "Fuck you, you fucking asshole" and some French that Pat interrupts as, "Hell yeah, give it to me because you are god of sex".
The first finger is always the easiest because Tazer really, really wants it.
"Oh god, you're such a slut," Patrick says gleefully as his fingers slides in and finds Jonny's prostate immediately.
"Don't you fucking dare," Jonny snarls and so Pat totally backs off on the prostate but in retaliation, he slaps at Tazer's ass and watches the ripples of muscled perfection for a bit as he screws him.
Pat spits a few more times, watching Tazer flinch and like, recoil, between wanting another finger up his ass and his general disgust with Patrick. It's awesome. So Patrick does it way more than he needs to and then runs his mouth.
"Your ass makes me so hot," he says, a little unnecessarily. "I want to eat you out all the time. Let you ride my face—"
"Christ, Pat, just—"
Patrick grins, pushing his mouth against Jonny's ass again and letting his lips move. "You look amazing on my fingers man. Everyone always talks about my perfect, soft hands but they have no idea, do they? I wish they could see how you look now, begging to get more of my goal scoring fingers inside of you—fuck you until you come."
He doesn't even realize he's stoking himself until Tazer curses him for being a selfish bastard.
"You're right," Patrick pants. "My apologizes."
He absolutely moans while Tazer shouts, a second finger screwing up and pushing itself into the hot, pissed off heat of Jonny's body.
It's kind of an uncoordinated shitshow after that because Jonny is riding back into Patrick's fingers and logistically, jerking off is difficult when Tazer thrashing about and being a total ass-slut. But Pat's gone from wanting to take his time to wanting to beg Jonny, just the tip-style if it means getting closer to his greedy ass.
Instead, he fucks him so hard his arm hurts and Tazer is literally pinned to the bed with the force of Patrick's hand.
"God, fuck—there you go, Jonny—look at you ride my hand," Pat gasps out. He's stroking his own cock in earnest now, wiggling around so that he can get the head of his dick to rub against Jonny's ass and thighs as they jostle on the bed. "You want it so bad, Jonny. God. I can see you want me to come all over your tight, sweet little hole."
"Fucking fuck—shut the hell up!" But Patrick certainly will not. Not with Jonny humping the mattress too hard, over sensitive and frustrated because he wants to come just as much as Patrick does. So Pat just keeps talking himself to orgasm as he finger fucks Tazer hard enough to make Jonny slip from yelling to crying out. It's a high, desperate sound that is so fucking embarrassing for him that it makes Patrick feel like he's gonna come.
His dick is leaking all over Jonny's skin. It's smearing with spit and swear and just, messing up Jonny's perfect everything.
"Yeah look at you, fucking take it, Jonny, take it," Pat says, so fucking close to coming that he's practically vibrating. Two of his fingers with nothing more than his spit is enough stretch for Jonny to feel like he's taking Pat's cock and the sight is enough to send Patrick over the edge.
He doesn't shout like Tazer does, but he likes to watch as he jizzes all over Jonny's ass. His spectacular aim, even in the throws of a mind blowing orgasm, means that Jonny's got come lazily dripping down his ass crack and making its way down to where Patrick is finger banging him with a ruthlessness that makes him a little worn out in the aftermath.
But watching Jonny push back, grinding on Pat's fingers as come like, gets in there, well—it's enough for Patrick to want this forever. He wants this to be his charge for fucking life and god, if they don't have win another ring in June, he will fucking buy them both one himself.
"For fuck's sake, Pat, get your mouth—" Jonny cuts himself off with a another high-pitched moan that makes him sound like he's in a cheap porno and not riding Pat's fingers right there in their stupidly big bed.
"Get my mouth where, Tazer?" He's a little stunned with himself, still thinking about what it would be like to fuck Jonny with a finger that has a simple band on it and not like that time with their last Cup rings.
Jonny just growls, fists punching the head board a little as his hips work to grind into the mattress still. "Clean up your fucking mess, you douchebag," but he's absolutely breathless when he says it and Patrick will swear up and down that it's downright begging. Or as close to begging as Tazer ever gets and fuck—even the taste of his own come off Tazer's sweaty skin isn't enough to make him deny Jonny.
As soon as he gets his mouth there he get this tongue replacing one of his fingers so that Jonny rides him nice and loose—come leaking down and yeah, getting in there too, right where Tazer wants. Patrick literally doesn't have enough hands. He's pulled Jonny up a little, so that his ass is in the air with a hand digging into his thigh but since his other hand is busy going to town on Jonny's ass—there isn't anyone to jerk Tazer off.
"Hold on just—" Patrick curses and Jonny whines, frustrated for all of like ten seconds, before Pat plunges his middle finger in there and yep—
"Fuck, Kaner, jesusfuckingchrist."
Hello there Jonny's prostate, most sensitive spot on Tazer's entire body.
"You gotta come like this, babe," Patrick says, as mocking and condescending as he can manage now that he's banging Jonny hard enough to make his wrist sore.
Tazer absolutely hates his prostate because it lights him up like a livewire, makes him go preverbal and when he comes, it's like way to much jizz to be healthy—like he's jizzing out his soul or something. He gets all soft and stupid afterwards too, like Pat has fucked him so hard that he has to reboot his freaky hockeybot self.
But there are literally no more hands to pull Tazer's orgasm out of his dick so he'll just have to make do. Not that Patrick is complaining because post-prostate orgasm Jonny is just what everyone in this room needs.
"Come on, Jonny," he says. Then he presses hard inside of him and tries to suck a hickey on Tazer's hole.
That is fucking all she wrote.
Jonny comes like a fountain, weirdly silent but gasping high-pitched and feminine as the intensity of the orgasm rips through him. Patrick almost feels sorry for him but not enough to stop grinding a finger inside of him, wailing on his prostate. He waits until Jonny's gasps go wet, like he's crying and chokign on it, then he pulls out and gets his mouth over the perfect, fucked out redness of Tazer's hole and sucks.
If it was physically possible to come again, listening to the destroyed, pathetic noise that Jonny makes, then Patrick would have achieved it by sheer will alone. Instead, he lets himself bliss out as he licks at Tazer's ass, still thinking about how he like pledged in his mind to shackle Jonny to him mid-orgasm.
Eventually, Pat can admit that at this point, he's just rubbing his face against Jonny's ass and watching it sort of jiggle now that Tazer is relaxed to the point of coma.
"I am awesome," Patrick proclaims, watching Jonny's body give out underneath him and collapse onto the bed. "You came without a hand on your dick. That is so embarrassing," but Pat knows he sounds more giddy than he does teasing.
Whatever. He doesn't even care, okay? Because Tazer's so relaxed, muscles so lax, that he kind of looks chubby instead of immaculately sculpted. And that is the best compliment in the world. Pat rewards himself with smacking Jonny's ass cheek a little and then digging his thumb into one of the bruises left by his own mouth that is blooming purple-green on Tazer's skin like Patrick took him to the boards like a boss.
Patrick's own orgasm is catching up to him though, so he half-heartedly cleans them both up with a tissue and chucks it over the side of the bed. In the morning, Jonny will explode with rage about Patrick's piss-poor clean up, the destroyed sheets and the state of Tazer's marked up body. Pat is totally looking forward to watching Jonny's neck go red and blotchy, a nice background for the suck marks Pat's left. It's gonna be fantastic. But for now, Patrick falls down next to Jonny on the bed and adds post-coital glow to his already pretty fantastic, play-off clinching mood. Not to mention the fact that he had a pretty good game himself.
Despite Jonny's state, he still manages to lurk. There is something about silent Jonny that feels expectant and so Pat goes half a minute before he shuffles back and says, "you suck. Just get over here."
There's a grumpy snarl, which means Tazer is still all cracked open and kind of pissed about because blahblahblahprostate but he still snuggles up behind Patrick. There are settle for about three seconds before Pat snorts and takes pity on both of them, rolling over and kissing Jonny. It's not quiet a post-sex kiss because there is still some left over vehemence to keep up the pretenses on Jonny's side of things but Pat just gives in. He lets Jonny fuck his mouth, suck on his tongue and be an aggressive dick until he peters out. Then they're just making out because they like it and yeah, Pat is glad Tazer is so gone for his mouth because then Patrick doesn't have to admit how much he wishes he could kiss Jonny like this always.
Maybe while like, holding the Cup on the ice or possibly after winning an argument in the grocery store about peanut butter.
Unacceptable.
Eventually, they stop and Jonny manhandle Patrick in the way he wants him. They're not really touching but they're so close that Pat can feel the heat roll of Jonny's body because was born in the Arctic Circle or something. They lie there and breathe and Patrick is even mildly convinced that he's going to drop into sleep but then Jonny kind of headbutts him in the neck. It's lazy and the closest to cuddling they will probably ever get when they're conscious but it's nice. Pat can admit that.
"You gonna be alright, Captain Control Freak?"
"You're a dick." But Tazer nuzzles into the slick, sweatiness of his neck so he's clearly not that upset. Patrick just shrugs a bit and waits him out. Either Jonny will talk or they'll both fall asleep and live to play hockey another day. Whatever. Pat is obviously better at dealing with feelings and shit, but he's not like loving them or, heaven forbid, forcing Tazer to talk it out.
They fuck it out or hockey it out, that way whatever else happens to them isn't forced and weird. They've been doing this for long enough that they've got this shit on lockdown.
"It always feels like this," Jonny finally says, soft and low like it's a secret. Despite the serious tone, Pat's dick still twitches when he hears it. Fuck Jonny and his stupidly sexy voice.
"Feels like what?"
There's silence, then Tazer squeezes him a little as he buries his face into the matted, sweat damp curls of Pat's neck. It feels like Jonny's not gonna answer, just gonna hide there but then Pat squeezes back and Jonny says, "Like it's gonna be our year. I just want—"
He doesn't finish but that's okay because Patrick totally gets it. Hockey is the best thing that ever happened to him and there is literally nothing like making a playoff run, seeing that beautiful gleaming cup waiting for him and then doing it with a team—for a city—there is nothing like that. Nor is there nothing like the disappointment of falling short.
The thing is, lately? Pat sort of feels like he could never win a Cup again, as long as he's losing with Jonny.
"Go to sleep before you hurt yourself," Patrick says and Tazer snorts, unattractively and sleepy, against his neck.
After Jonny passes out, Pat wiggles a little more to his side of the bed because he's sweating his balls off, and whispers (a little viciously), "It's always gonna be our year, babe."
He means it.