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Pete is tied to the bed by his wrists. His ankles aren't restrained, but Patrick's already warned him that can be quickly remedied. There are two pillows under his hips and none under his head. He's on his stomach with his face to the side so he doesn't suffocate. Patrick's got three fingers inside him and he's working in a fourth.
"If you wouldn't act like such a dirty fucking slut," Patrick tells him in a low voice while he lazily brushes against Pete's prostate, "then I wouldn't have to punish you like one."
The older boy lets out a noise between a moan and a whine, pressing back, greedily demanding more. A hand threads in his hair and holds him against the mattress. "P-Please," he chokes out. "'Trick, please."
"Please what?" the younger boy asks, trying to sound bored but unable to fully keep the amusement out of his voice. He angles his fingers and starts working them in and out quicker, smiling to himself as he hears the staccato moans keeping time. "Please what, Pete?" he asks again, voice mockingly sweet.
The older boy just continues to moan and thrust back against Patrick's hand. He's so fucking close. If he could just--
"No!" Pete gasps, his eyes flying open, trying to push himself up with bound wrists and being shoved roughly back down. He's empty and he gives a dry sob at the loss.
Patrick presses Pete's cheek harder into the mattress and leans in close, letting his lips tickle the other boy's ear when he speaks. "You are going to answer the fucking question or I'm going to leave you tied to this bed all night." It's a growl and Pete can feel the vibration of it in his cock.
Question? Pete doesn't remember a question. He barely remembers being tied to the bed. He remembers the stretch and pull and push and the pressure on the back of his knees when Patrick held him down and nails digging into his hips. Question? "Just fuck me," Pete pleads, yanking on the cuffs again.
Patrick doesn't hesitate before lifting his hand and bringing it down, hard, against Pete's ass. He does it again and then he waits. When the older boy remains motionless on the bed, he gives his final warning. "Last chance. What do you want?"
Realization barely pokes through the smoke of arousal clouding Pete's brain, but habit wins out. "'Trick," he whimpers, "'Trick, please fuck me. I need you to fuck me. I need your cock so fucking deep inside me that I can't breathe. Fuck me hard, baby, please. Make it hurt." He hears the words coming out of his mouth, but can barely register saying them. He's clenching every muscle in his body to keep still and trying to keep his breathing even.
After a moment, Patrick lets go of his hair. "Good boy," he murmurs, leaning down to bite the back of Pete's neck and seal it with a kiss. He pushes himself up and stands to remove his boxers, smiling at the image of Pete on the bed, eyes closed because he knows that's what Patrick wants, arms outstretched with the cuffs on the wrists. Nail marks down his back and the inside of his thighs. Three pink marks almost faded on the pale skin of Pete's ass.
The younger boy frowns. That doesn't seem appropriate. His eyes scan the room for anything that will work. He's only had the hairbrush in his hand for a few seconds before it's flying through the air. The impact seems to echo in the silence of the room.
"One." Pete nearly chokes getting the word out, but he manages. Patrick doesn't make Pete count, but he likes it, and the older boy has discovered it means he usually gets fucked quicker, so he continues to count. He's trying not to rock his hips against the pillow because he knows Patrick will just spank him harder. Part of him doesn't care; it's worth it.
The impact of six is harder, enough to make Pete scream as he feels the hot pain shoot through his skin. By the time he gets to ten, there are tears on his cheeks but he's still grinding his hips against the pillow. He's about to beg for a reprieve when he feels the familiar pressure of the other boy's body on top of his and he's moaning as he feels Patrick pressing slowly in, stretching him with each inch.
The pain is a dull blur on the edges of a smoky pleasure core. Pete feels his brain going hazy as he's pushing back and begging for more and trying to take Patrick in deeper, tilting his hips to make him go faster. He needs to be fucked hard or the smoke's never going to clear.
Pete's trying to lift his head and Patrick slams him back down to the mattress by his shoulders, holding him there as he thrusts in and out of him rapidly, a hand moving around to the front of Pete's neck, tightening around his throat.
Pete would be moaning except he can't make any noise at all. He feels a weight settle in his stomach and start to warm his blood. The hand releases and Pete has a moment to gasp before he can't breathe again. He can feel Patrick repeatedly slamming into him and he feels the pleasure through the fog.
It's too much. The soft mattress and the hard thrusts, the dull lack of oxygen and the sharp pull on his wrists. Pete's not even sure if he can come in the jumble of sensations.
Then the hand is gone and Patrick is straightening up slightly. There's nothing for a moment. No movement, no words, no moans. Just breathing.
Then Pete's eyes are popping open and he's pressing his face into the mattress to muffle the high pitched noises working their way out of the back of his throat. He can feel the stretch, can feel the impossible feeling of being opened up more. He tries not to breathe as Patrick continues to press the two fingers inside of him, lining them up alongside his cock and waiting.
It's not enough and too much at the same time. Pete needs to come. His toes are curling and his hips are arched forward and it fucking hurts, but he can't do anything with his hands tied and Patrick fucking knows it.
"Poor little slut baby needs to come?" the younger coos mockingly, trying to keep his voice steady. He can feel Pete clenching tightly around him and God, he isn't going to fucking last either.
Pete nearly growls in frustration, but he somehow manages to get out a weak, "'Trick, please?"
There's a hand on his cock. One twist, two, and then Pete's screaming and bucking back and Patrick's fingers slip out as he grabs the older boy by the hips and fucks him violently through his climax. He pulls out in time to jerk his cock three times and shoot on Pete's ass, still red from the spanking.
Patrick smiles and runs a finger along the tender skin, holds it up to Pete's mouth. The older boy opens his eyes and tiredly complies, sucking the digit between his lips as Patrick uses his other hand to unstrap the cuffs. The younger boy lightly touches Pete's hair before wiping him off and helping him flip onto his back.
There's just enough strength in the older boy to let his head fall forward against Patrick's arm and kiss the skin there. "Love you," he whispers.
Softly lips brush the top of Pete's head. "I love you too," comes the tender reply. And they sleep.