Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Patrick sat with Tim, Craig and Luis, gossiping about some faceless colleague, but Patrick found himself distant and uninterested in the conversation and instead more invested in picking at his manicured nail beds. But it was when he heard the familiar voice of Paul Allen walk through the room that he was brought back to reality. He muttered under his breath when Paul hadn’t even turned his attention to even wave to Patrick, rather shaking hands with another irrelevant employee. He did crack a sly grin at the slight lean Paul stood with, showing a hint of trouble standing straight. 

Paul had uncharacteristically stayed overnight during the week, which was somewhat disturbing on its own level. Nonetheless, Paul woke up that morning and interrupted Patrick in the middle of his routine, buzzing in his ear about wanting a quick fuck. He had even used Patrick’s shower before him and used his products. A mental note appeared in Patrick’s head to bill the other man but he dismissed that as looking like he needed the money. No way would he let the other man have that over him.

Hanging on him from behind and pressing his lips against Patrick’s shoulders while he tried to peel his face mask. He ended up screwing up the peel and only half came off in one pull, nearly bringing Patrick to an early indulgence of homicide. He muttered to himself which Paul obnoxiously found funny or he didn’t even notice. Despite again, completely ruining his morning. Now his face would be fucked up for the rest of the day, the peel would be gone to the slow eyes of his colleagues, but Patrick will know it was still there.

“Come on, Pat, real quick before I head out. What, you suddenly having issues getting it up?” Paul mumbled into his shoulder. Patrick tightened his jaw and released, tearing the few bits of peel left and turning to Paul. Unbelievable to him that Paul would see him emerge from a shower, still damp and think to ruin it. Feigning a smile, his arms wrapped around Paul’s waist, and shifted their weight so he was pushing Paul backwards, both stumbling into the bedroom until Paul was falling backwards onto the bed. Patrick hovered over him, stray droplets falling from his hair and hitting the other man’s face.

“Stay there,” Patrick said, standing up and going to his tall drawer. He looked over his shoulder, then quickly back to inside the drawer. Paul was propped on his elbows, watching him with his abnormally huge eyes, which Patrick made a note to comment on just to see how Paul would react. Maybe he would get surgery to change that. Turning his attention back to the dresser, Patrick dug through for one specific item under the knives, pliers and other such things. He turned back to Paul, hiding the item from his view, moving back.

Patrick acted fast, slick fingers roughly shoved into Paul and probing at the inner walls. Paul gave in, fully on his back and exuding a look of self-determined victory, one arm resting behind his head. That was until Patrick stopped fingering the man, but refused to actually move forward, leaving him empty.

“What…are you doing?” Paul asked, voice thick with desperation and annoyance.

“You fucked up my morning so I want you to wait for it now,” Patrick answered shortly, taking out a medium-sized, black plug. Paul tried to spit out a quick retort, but had to catch his breath as the toy was inserted. Once fully in, Paul was left there by himself on the bed, completely lost.

“Really, Pat?” Paul rolled on his side, wincing.

Patrick saw how Paul went to remove the toy and hung directly over him again, his mouth twisting into a snarl. 

“Keep it in until I say so.” Paul looked to be holding his breath, shuddering.

“Fine, Bateman,” Paul said, his normal demeanor returning as he pushed Patrick back. “Kinky, I’m into it.” Paul added, sitting up and hiding any discomfort.

So Paul was there, standing awkwardly trying to keep conversation with a colleague as if everything was normal, attempting to hide the redness in his face. Tim had taken instant notice to it when he caught Patrick staring at Paul as he walked in, not hesitating to speak up.

“Allen look like he’s walking with a limp to anyone? Think he’s hungover or something?”

“Either way it looks like someone shoved a stick up his ass,” Craig snorted. Patrick agreed with a fake laugh.

“Bateman, how the hell are you?” Came Paul’s steady voice as he made his way over with his hands in his pockets and an exaggerated swagger. “Funny, you’re usually so busy, right? You finally having a break?” Still his usual bastard self, Patrick could see. As if Paul wasn’t taking multiple breaks just to fuck on company time.

“Oh yeah,” Patrick calmly answered, “very busy. Say, Allen why don’t you have a seat with us for a moment.” Patrick rolled one of the empty chairs out with an inviting hand. Paul swallowed, staring at the seat.

“Sure, fine,” he said, lowering himself. His body jolted upwards, startling the two other men at the table. They exchanged confused glances to each other, then to Paul. “Sorry, I…think I hit my knee. Table’s kinda low, huh?”

Tim shrugged. “Not really. Say, are you around for lunch one day this week?” Paul clearly had his mind on…other things because he had a slow response time to Tim.

“Paul?” Patrick asked, feigning concern with his hand roughly teetering Paul in his seat. He inwardly grinned when he saw Paul bite his bottom lip.

“Right, yeah I should totally be around, just call my secretary she’ll set something up.” Paul was sweating bullets and Patrick sensed how the table lightly shook from Paul’s jiggling leg. His eyes wandered down to Paul’s crotch, noting the tent that he was trying to hide. Cruelly, Patrick “accidentally” bumped Paul’s seat, getting rewarded with a short yelp.

“Sorry,” Patrick said, trying to sound distant, “I must have stepped on your foot.” Paul was actually glaring at Patrick, face becoming a deeper red. 

“Feeling alright, Paul?” Luis leaned over, his expression of concern nearly forcing a barking laugh out of Patrick while Paul scrambled to answer. Just as Paul opened his mouth to answer, Patrick took the chance to cut him off.

“You look sick, Allen. Come on, I’ll help you to your office, okay?” Paul furrowed his brow at Patrick, nostrils flaring, but he did nod and allowed Patrick to help him up while hurriedly covering the hard on he was sporting. “I’ll stay with him and see if he needs a cab or anything.” Tim and Craig were already in their own conversation while Luis pathetically waved to the two of them. Patrick thought he heard him offer to help, but he was promptly ignored.

Paul stumbled into Patrick’s office, trying to get his footing while taking a few short breaths.

“Fucking asshole, what was that for?”

“What was what for?” Patrick asked, again feigning ignorance. 

“You get so wound up about the smallest shit getting us caught then you do that?” Paul wiped his forehead, then rubbed his neck. He took to Patrick’s couch, again flinching at the feeling once he sat down. Patrick approached the other man, reaching out to grab at sides of Paul’s body. A sigh escaped Paul’s lips, his eyelids fluttering shut. 

Patrick rolled his eyes, flipping him so he was on his stomach and hanging off of the couch with his knees touching the office floor. Kneeling, Patrick began to undo Paul’s pants.

“No one will suspect from that. Hips.” Obeying, Paul lifted his hips while Patrick hastily ripped them down, leaving them bunched at his knees.

“Are you kidding? I’m shocked Carruthers didn’t offer to take care of my boner right there,” Paul groaned, burying his face in his hands as his erection was freed. It was strange how Paul tended to get more and more…well, like Patrick on some things.

With an adjustment to Paul’s position on the couch, Patrick opened Paul’s legs wider to expose the toy stretching him open. He reached for it, just tapping and pushing it rather than removing it. Paul hissed, biting his knuckle.

“Pat, come on…”  Paul was begging at that point much to Patrick’s newfound pleasure in this form of torture. He enjoyed keeping Paul on the edge and would maybe even stop there and blue ball him for the rest of the day. Either way, Patrick was going to have some fun with him, he decided as he stood. Paul looked at him over his shoulder, a dazed and pained expression taking over his face. 

“Are you fucking serious?” 

“You’re going to keep it in the rest of the day at this rate.” Paul pressed his forehead to the couch with an annoyed grunt, eyes squeezed shut.  

“You’ve been getting real bold lately for a goody two shoes, Bateman,” Paul said through a spiteful laugh, subconsciously pushing his hips out.

“As if you don’t like it.”

“Are you actually bantering? Swear I’d almost think you were a person for a sec.” Another gasp as Patrick pushed the toy, making small movements inside his colleague. Paul’s fingers clawed into the couch cushions, hips rocking. 

Leaning over, so he was just hovering over Paul’s ear, Patrick whispered. “Come to my apartment directly after work.” With that, Patrick moved away from Paul, this time with no intention of going back in. Paul’s groans were muffled by the cushions as Patrick yanked his pants back up as best as he could. He though he actually heard Paul laughing.

“You’re fucked up, baby,” Paul joked, red-faced and sweating. “But I’ll keep playing.” Patrick didn’t really know how to respond to that, so he chose not to.

“Don’t even think about jerking off before,” he warned. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Paul poked his tongue out to lick his lips. How the fuck did he always manage to turn this around? Patrick asked himself, suddenly feeling embarrassed for absolutely no understandable reason. Whatever, he decided that he wasn’t going to allow Paul the satisfaction of winning and that alone gave him the upper hand. He could live with that small victory for now.

Chapter Text

Despite the discomfort he felt at the plug stretching him, Paul found himself able to take his mind off of it. At least enough to get his dick soft. Patrick really could be a complete sadist, but it wasn’t like Paul didn’t know that at this point. Big surprise, a guy who makes off-beat jokes about homicide and listens to soft rock is into weird shit.

Shifting in his seat, Paul bit his lip at the pressure. He half-considered just jerking off in the bathroom. What, was Patrick going to put a camera on him to make sure? But he didn’t for some point to prove to just himself. 

So instead he just sat there, carefully rocking his hips a little, just to feel some pleasure. A pathetic sight to literally anyone who could walk in and know what was happening. Leaning forward, Paul’s mind screaming to stop, he let a shaky breath leave his mouth.

Patrick didn’t stop by Paul’s office the rest of the day, leaving him to stew in his own dwindling horniness topped off with his work. No, Patrick didn’t stop by but every other schmuck on the floor desperately had to see him to go on and on about stupid bullshit. Hamilton complained about his current account and client who asked for too many details, Halberstram stopped by to ask for advice on a business decision, and hell Carruthers stopped by to see how he was. Since he was just so sick earlier, he probably thought Paul had either gone home or passed out in his office from his terrible case of blue balls.

It was especially irritating the way Carruthers hesitantly walked in upon speaking with Paul’s secretary, poking his head in like a fearful child. Looking up from his own writing, Paul motioned for him to come in. 

“Can I help you?” Paul asked, raising an eyebrow. He watched as the other man fiddled with his dorky bowtie. 

“Just thought I’d check in and see how you were feeling. You seemed…” Paul wasn’t usually so easily irritated, but then again he didn’t always have a foreign object up his ass for hours. So he supposed he wasn’t exactly in the right state of mind to listen to the fag in front of him babble on.

“I’m all good, Carruthers,” Paul said through gritted teeth. “A-1, really.”

“Oh, are you sure? I tried to ask Patrick but he was busy.” Shocker, Paul thought, concealing his scoff. He was always just so busy with his especially large workload. Somehow more than any work Paul had ever seen.

“Just a bug, you know how things spread around here.” Carruthers took a cautious step back at the mention of that, then another. A humorous side effect to see the other man become even more uncomfortable at the mention.

“Of course, and you’re feeling better?” 

“Would I still be here if I wasn’t?” Paul asked, followed by a pregnant pause that was only broken by his own good-natured laugh. Upon realizing the levity in the response, Carruthers laughed with him. “Appreciate you dropping by but it’s nothing to worry about. As for Bateman, I’m sure he’s just…very occupied.” Paul’s voice drifted off into the haze of his own thoughts. He glanced down at his knuckles, focused on the class ring on his finger. 

“He always seems to be,” said Carruthers, somewhat disappointed. Paul just shrugged and said it was the nature of the job to which Carruthers meekly agreed before seeing himself out. Paul wondered if any colleagues saw him as they see Carruthers. Doubtful. Patrick on the other hand…well, Paul thought, the man does listen to Whitney Houston.

***

The cab ride alone only further brought an air of excitement to Patrick, thinking of what was to come. That stupid bastard probably spent the entire day hiding under his desk, unable to look a single man in the eye while knowing Patrick practically owned him. There was the thought that maybe Paul had gone against his demands and took the plug out or snuck off to the bathroom to get himself through the day. The overly-confident attitude of the man probably wouldn’t allow it, though. Anyways, he’d be able to tell and if he had, maybe they could have even more fun. Fun for him at least. Since when was the last time Paul let him leave welts in much more private places?

Taking his mind off of that to keep the greasy-haired cabdriver from noticing, Patrick saw his building come into view. He didn’t pay attention to how much he tipped, but by the sounds of the disgruntled driver it wasn’t great. Whatever, he thought, he had much more important things to prepare for.

Paul arrived just five minutes after Patrick had settled in and shucked off his coat and suit jacket. A frustrated red tint under his perfectly tanned skin made the man look especially good to Patrick. Like he had won over him by making Paul so sexually frustrated.

“You gonna let me in?” Paul asked less in his usual tone and laced with more annoyance.

Patrick smiled and stepped to the side. “Yeah, of course, Allen.” There was a great joy in seeing that Paul still had just the slightest issue walking straight. Hands in his pockets, Paul glanced around as if it were a new location. Patrick strode past the other man to his kitchen to fetch himself a drink when Paul noticed.

“What are you doing?” he asked. Patrick looked at him, pretending to be clueless. 

“Would you like a drink?”

“Fuck off, Pat,” he said. “You’re absolutely not doing that right now.” The other man stomped over with an indignant expression, glaring up at Patrick. Patrick actually found himself taking a step back. Not because he was intimidated, it would take him little to no effort to overpower Paul of course, but because Paul reeked of sweat. 

Patrick went to take a sip of his rum and coke when Paul, the disobedient cunt that he was, actually snatched the drink from him. Paul was lucky to still have a hand when he did that and slammed it on his countertop. Did he even know how much that cost? Would Paul be paying for it if he left a scratch? The thoughts of how Patrick could deal with him were now endlessly scrolling through his mind when Paul forced him back to reality with a grab of his wrist.

“You wanted me here, so now you’re gonna follow me, Bateman.” He hated when Paul put on his ‘serious’ voice to make himself seem bigger. It wasn’t attractive in the slightest and in fact was simply grating. So why was he following Paul in his own home? Just to get him to shut up, obviously.

“You know, Paul,” Patrick said, “I’m the one who will be taking that toy out. So maybe you should learn some manners.”

“Fuck manners, I’ve had a long day.” Paul threw open the door to Patrick’s bedroom and dragged him inside, pushing Patrick on the bed. Again, Patrick was allowing this. Paul’s expression suddenly softened closer to his normal, playful self.  “How about you give me a little stress relief?”

Paul straddled his lap, rolling his hips to grind against Patrick’s now half-hard dick. 

“Why should I?”

“Are you serious?” Paul furrowed his brow, pushing his hips once again. “You fucking owe me from that sadistic game you had me play all day.”

“How do I know you didn’t just touch yourself at some point?”

“Do you think I’m that weak-willed? You think I couldn’t handle it?” Paul asked, rolling his eyes. “Though, Carruthers did pay me a visit, I should have just let him take care of me. He’d probably know what to do with someone asking for a good fuck in front of him instead of acting like this.” Swallowing, Patrick willed himself not to scream in Paul’s face about what a worthless faggot Carruthers was. How he’d never know what to do with him if his bleak life depended on it. Luis probably didn’t even stop by, he told himself. It was all just part of the man’s mind games.

“Shut up.”

“Come on, Pat,” Paul said, “you were such a big man this morning. Where’d that all go?” That triggered something in Patrick because he took it upon himself to grab Paul’s hips and throw him on his back and pin his hands above his head. Paul flinched, the plug clearly hitting a sensitive spot inside him again. With a bout of courage, Patrick reached under the other man to grab his ass through his suit pants. Groans spilled from Paul’s open lips, his hands reaching out to grab Patrick’s shoulders.

“Happy?” Patrick asked, squeezing again, this time a little lower. And the jackass was actually grinning smugly, like he had the upper-hand after all. Just for good measure, Patrick elected to cup his clothed, semi-erect cock, closing his fingers tightly around it. It filled him with satisfaction to see Paul’s big, blue eyes grow even wider.

“I’ll be happy when you finally grow a pair and fuck me.” Fingers digging in Patrick’s scalp, messing up its clean look, Paul yanks Patrick into a hard kiss. Their lips smashing together, teeth hitting in a way that made Patrick hiss against him. Paul just laughed again which he must have done on purpose just to further fuck with his head.

Finally, Patrick was working off Paul’s pants, undoing his suspenders and zipper. As yet another roadblock, Paul wouldn’t lift his hips, too occupied with slowly loosening his tie and popping the buttons off his shirt. Wasn’t he the one so desperate to get fucked? Hell, Paul paused midway just to take handfuls of fabric from Patrick’s shirt in his balled fists. He was forced to lean forward, closer to Paul’s face.

“Start taking this off,” Paul demanded, taking initiative by undoing the top button. “I want to actually see you, Pat.” When he didn’t immediately move, Paul undid yet another button. “Now—”

“I heard you the first fucking time,” Patrick snarled, pushing the other man back. Still, he didn’t move to undress, leaving Paul in an awkward in-between stage of his clothes halfway worked off.

“You know I can just leave if you don’t meet me halfway. I did everything you wanted, do something for me.” Patrick doubted that. He wouldn’t. Not without getting off. 

So he held still and called his bluff, hand lingering on Paul’s thigh. Fingers traveled up his leg, only to be swatted away.

“Fine,” Paul muttered, shifting his hips to slide his pants back up. What the fuck? Honestly, Paul could be such a fucking child.

“Wait. Okay, fine whatever.” That satiated Paul, causing him to relax back in his spot on the bed,  propped on his elbows to watch. He was always so proud of himself when he got what he wanted, huh? And god, Patrick could feel Paul’s eyes on him while he unbuttoned and carefully slipped off his shirt to place it somewhere safe across the bedroom.

“The rest too, Pat,” he said. And when Patrick looked over his shoulder, he could see just how full of himself the other man appeared to be. This was ridiculous. Patrick was the one in charge. He should be the one telling Paul to undress. He half considered buying something worse for Paul to wear in public, something that would get the point across. What would he think of that?

“I know how this shit works.” With that, Patrick slipped off his pants and placed them in the same spot as the shirt. While in that spot, Patrick opened his tall dresser to fetch lube and a condom, dropping it next to Paul.

“Thank you. Was that so hard?” Paul asked while wriggling out of his pants and underwear. That fucking tone of voice was enough to drive Patrick to ripping out the other man’s vocal cords and feeding them to him. Let alone the way he was then opening his legs just slightly like a fucking tease. As if he wasn’t begging Patrick to fuck him earlier today. Instead though, he pounced on the other man, eliciting a surprised gasp from him as he instinctively opened his legs.

Choosing not to dignify his question with a response, Patrick flipped Paul over on  his knees and spread his ass open to reveal the black plug. Once again they were back to where they were earlier. He held the plug and slightly moved it inside of Paul a few times, just to watch him squirm.

“Maybe I should just leave it in all night,” Patrick wondered, admiring the toy deep in him. He moved it again, pulling on it ever so slightly, then pushing back into place. 

Paul snapped his attention back.

“Okay if you even think of trying that, I’m definitely taking it out.” His response read like he thought Patrick was kidding. Nonetheless, Patrick finally began to pull the plug out, producing a long moan from Paul who pushed his hips out as he did so. 

Coating two fingers with lube, Patrick briefly rubbed his opening before shoving both inside with ease. He pushed his fingers deeper, then moved them in a thrusting motion until Paul let out what sounded like an impatient grunt.

“Pat, I promise I’m good, you can just fuck me.” A new layer of sweat layered Paul’s reddening face that was pressed further into the bed. Patrick casted a glance to Paul’s hands, how his perfectly manicured (but not as perfect as his own) fingernails dug into the wrinkling duvet. 

“Why should I?” 

“Come on,” he mumbled in a lighter tone. One of his hands reached back to stroke the hand Patrick had on his hip. “Be a good boy for me, baby and do it already.” Again, what the fuck? And why the fuck was Patrick turned on by just how collected Paul was? It was inhumane how Paul could pick his words so well to push his buttons even in a situation like this. Patrick repeated to himself again that he was in charge not Paul and that him rolling the condom on his hard dick was a choice he alone made. Just because he was sick of cock-teasing himself. And he most certainly was not slowly pushing himself inside of Paul because Paul was telling him to, but because his begging was becoming frustrating to listen to.

Without much warning, Patrick shoved himself inside the other man, followed by yet another shameless groan from him. He didn’t wait for a word from Paul to start moving, getting right into finding a rhythm with his harsh thrusts. If Patrick had pushed him up on the bed so he could kneel, he was certain Paul would be smashing his head into the headboard with each push. He would definitely be leaving bruises on Paul’s hips with how tight he was holding on.

“That feels so good. That’s—good, Pat. God—don’t stop, alright?” Paul mumbled through a thick layer of pleasure because of course he had to talk. There was never a point where Paul refused to talk and Patrick hadn’t done something like leaving too dark a bruise on a visible location. He almost wished he had a gag handy, but he was too impatient at the moment on to pull out and go search. 

“Don’t fucking plan to.”

There was a certain point Paul would get to when Patrick fucked him, where his vocal performance went up at least two octaves. Obviously, Paul was close, his insides tightening around his cock. Those whines turned to screams, and it made Patrick all the more grateful his apartment’s walls were incredibly thick as he chased his own climax. He didn’t give a shit at this point if Paul was touching himself, he didn’t give a shit about anything at that moment as he came. Heavy breathing and grunts filled the room like an exceptionally sweet and passionate song from one of Patrick’s CDs. Possibly Whitney Houston if he had to draw a similarity to the emotions elicited at the time. 

And like that, Paul was relaxed against Patrick’s bedsheets in his own come. Involuntarily, Patrick’s face scrunched up and he took it upon himself to roll Paul over on his back. His stomach and chest appeared sticky, but Paul in his usual dipshit fashion, was just looking up at him with a dopey grin while he disposed of the condom. 

“What? No cuddling?” Paul asked with a faux sad face with the works. His bottom lip sticking out and eyebrows knit and his arms dramatically outstretched. Christ, did he and Evelyn trade notes?

“Fuck off,” was the best he could muster. Quickly, Paul retracted his hands to rest them on his chest which was rising and falling with his bouts of laughter.

“Help me up then.” It was again more of a demand than a request. He did so, but he rolled his eyes while doing it in order to cancel out the gesture. An arm wrapped around Patrick’s neck, Paul pulled him closer to leave a peck on his lips. 

Patrick made another face, the stickiness from Paul getting on him, and he definitely noticed because Paul offered to get the shower going. Patrick agreed, eager to wash off and exfoliate. 

“So after this, that means you’re letting me try a toy on you?” Patrick stiffened, his posture even straighter somehow.

“What?”

“Eye for an eye, right?”

“I’m not wearing it to work,” Patrick said, firmly. "Whatever 'it' would end up being."

“So first thing, that means you agree?" Patrick didn't respond. "But also it was fine for me to wear one?”

“Please,” Patrick scoffed, “you didn’t get caught, and you wouldn't. Everyone thinks you’re too perfect.” Then it was Paul’s turn to stand a little straighter, head tilted slightly like a fucking dog.

“Ohh,” said Paul, dragging the word out. “So you admit I’m perfect?”

“They think. Do you ever fucking listen?”

Paul shrugged, grinning wide. “Only when it involves you hurting your own pride.” Patrick must sound like a broken record every time he told Paul to shut the hell up. 

They should really keep track. On second thought, no because Paul would find a way to make a big show of it. Fuck that. 

Okay, he desperately needed that shower. Any longer and he might just take a kitchen knife and peel the layer of fluids off his chest.