#*joel grey voice* willkommen bienvenue welcome!

[thymesprigs]

hello! i'm christina (she/her), new simblr here!

i've been playing the sims since early ts3 days, and have been a lurker gremlin feasting on cc here ever since, but i've decided to dip my foot in the waters and post my own game! i mostly stick to legacy gameplay or messing around in cas and i'm looking for other players to follow!

my style is mostly maxis/maxis mix (probably heavier on the mix tbh haha). so if you're also maxis or maxis mix, pls like/reblog!

i'm looking to follow others that post their gameplay, legacies, sim stories, or really just anyone who enjoys (and also hates) this game as much as i do!

[startswithhope]

leave your troubles outside...

Patrick has a less than stellar Cabaret rehearsal and all he needs is David. And kissing. But mainly, David. (because I had a really annoying day and writing kissing fics makes me feel better) 

p.s. thanks to @wild-aloof-rebel for posting that Patrick had that photo of David on his mantle, as it made its way into this fic. :)

Trying his best to untighten his smile, Patrick says his goodbyes to the gathered theatre troupe and begins his walk home. It’s been a long night. He’d been prepared to work through his Act I songs, anxious and excited to finally work with the musical director Mrs. Rose had flown in from New York. Instead, they’d all sat on uncomfortable chairs for almost three hours, listening as Mrs. Rose sang her way through Act I and II, explaining it was just her process to hear the songs from her own voice first before she could “gift them to the rest of the cast”.

It was exhausting. And as much as he usually enjoys her antics, tonight just felt like she’d gone a bit too far. He’d been through similar moments with David in the past, but he’s in love with David, so forgiving his occasional bouts of selfishness is a much easier task.

Thankful for the half mile walk home, he lets some tension out of his limbs. The slow pace stretching his aching legs and butt from too long sitting and the cool air chilling some of his anger away. Pulling his phone from his back pocket, he sends David a quick text.

On my way home

Oh good, you’re not dead. I was about to start a search party.

Really?

No. But I was about to text Stevie and ask her to organize something.

I love you

I know

love you, too

That’s all it takes to get a real smile back on his face. A stupid few sentence conversation with David Rose. God, he’s such a goner for that man. That ridiculous, beautiful, complicated...well, beautifully complicated man.

His apartment is dark as he steps in, save the glowing light from David’s laptop on the coffee table in front of the couch and a smattering of candles around the room.

“Honey, I’m home,” he jokes, knowing David pretends to be annoyed whenever he says that, but secretly loves it. He knows he does because he’s caught him smiling before quickly turning away to try and hide it a few times.

“You really need to get a TV,” David whines from the couch, ignoring Patrick’s endearment altogether, “Antiques Roadshow is meant to be viewed on a bigger screen.”

“I don’t watch much TV, except sports, which I know you don’t care about...so…”

“But I like TV, and you like me, so, therefore...a TV would fit right up there on that mantle.”

Patrick drops his bag by the door and toes off his shoes, mentally deciding if he needs food or David more, deciding quickly that food will have to wait. Crossing over to the couch, he looks down at his boyfriend to find him stretched out in his softest black sweatpants (the ones he knows are more expensive than any item Patrick owns) and one of Patrick’s white t-shirts. It’s too small, but Patrick isn’t complaining. Not with the fabric stretched deliciously tight across David’s chest. Nope, no complaints here.

“You do realize that you are suggesting I move a photo of you and replace it with a TV, right? I thought you loved having yourself as the “central piece of art” in the entire room.”

David takes a moment to think about that, which makes Patrick chuckle.

“Whatever,” David relents, more annoyance in his voice than on his face as he smiles up at Patrick in an overdue hello.

“Can I join you?” Patrick asks, needing desperately to snuggle into the warmth of David’s arms for an hour of so to fully shake of this day.

“Mmm hmm..”, David mutters, his body shifting further into the back of the couch so Patrick has enough room to stretch out beside him. Normally he’d put his back against David’s chest, but tonight he just needs more, so he faces him, tucking his nose against David’s neck and his knees between David’s legs. Patrick’s arms don’t really have anywhere to go, so he tucks one between them and works the other around David’s waist.

Long, strong arms encircle him and Patrick sighs into the embrace. This, this is what he needs.

“Everything okay?” David questions, voice soft and timid, raising a tiny alarm in Patrick that he’s felt before.

“Totally fine, just a long rehearsal,” he answers quickly, voice light and reassuring.

“Ah, my Mom I assume?”

“Yessss.” The word comes out on a long breath and Patrick feels David’s chest rumble against his with a small laugh.

“Been there, done that,” David muses, his arms tightening just a fraction.

Ready to not talk talk about Mrs. Rose anymore, Patrick presses a soft kiss to David’s neck, loving the scratch of day old stubble abrading his lips.

“I missed you,” Patrick whispers, kissing David again, this time letting his lips linger a bit longer just to feel the goosebumps begin to form along David’s skin.

David doesn’t reply, but his legs shift, one hooking around Patrick’s to bring their lower bodies closer. The rings on his hand are cold as his palm slides beneath the back of Patrick’s shirt, big palm and fingers soft as they move up and down his back. David’s hands are always so soft thanks to the products he’s always testing and it’s just another of the many, many things that Patrick loves about him.

There’s a murmur of British voices coming from the laptop behind him, an interesting soundtrack, but not distracting enough to deter Patrick as his kisses move up to right below David’s ear. Knowing that will get a reaction, David lets out a sigh, chin lifting in invitation for another. Patrick obliges, shifting slightly to get his arm back from around David’s waist to he can cup the back of David’s head, fingers splaying wide into the thick of his hair.

It’s a somewhat clumsy little dance, but soon enough David’s lips are on his and they are finally kissing, lips warm and lazy as they both take long sips of each other, neither leading, both following. It’s the kind of kissing he always imagined he’d do in high school, the kind where you both end up with clothes somewhat twisted, sweaty and tingly in all the right places. He’s more than happy to finally be experiencing this now, with this man, in this place and time in his life when he knows he’s ready. Ready for all the big stuff that will eventually follow.

For now though, he’s going to just keep kissing. Hands work more diligently beneath clothes, David’s pushing Patrick’s shirt up enough to let him feel the light scratch of David’s happy trail from where his shirt has rucked up pressing into his skin. It’s a thing he was not surprised, but relieved to learn he loves, the manly bits of David’s body, having only been with women in the past. But love it he does.

His own hands far from idle, he grabs David’s thigh, urging it over his leg, both of them groaning into their kiss as everything aligns and this makeout finds a new journey. It’s silly really, two grown men rutting against one another on a too small couch when there’s a perfectly usable bed less than ten feet away. But he needs this and David doesn’t seem to be complaining, so they just keep kissing. And groping. Patrick’s pants somehow ending up halfway down his thighs and David’s on the ground (because they are entirely too expensive to mess up) as hands bring eventual release. By the end of it all, they’re both sweaty and cramped, messy and out of breath, but Patrick doesn’t care.

In fact, he’s fucking elated.

Humming a few notes, he begins to sing right into David’s ear, “Willkommen! And bienvenue! Welcome! Fremder, étranger, stranger, Glücklich zu sehen, Je suis enchanté…”

“Are you having a seizure?” David asks, feigning ignorance to the fact that he absolutely knows the words to this song.

Voice louder, Patrick really gets into it, turning so he’s pinning David to the couch with his hands on David’s chest.

“Happy to see you, Bleibe, reste, stay...Willkommen! And bienvenue! Welcome!”

Using his size to his advantage, David wrestles Patrick off, failing miserably to hide his smile as he stands and points to bathroom.

“Alright Joel Grey, if you want me to give you notes, we’re going to have to get cleaned up first.”

Forgetting his pants are in a precarious position, Patrick almost falls on his ass as he stands up. Recovering as gracefully as possible, he holds his pants together with one hand and grabs David’s still outstretched finger with the other, dragging them both to the shower as he continues to sing.

“I'm cabaret, au cabaret, to cabaret!”

“Patrick, I love you, but I’m going to need you to find the right key.”