phone sex with first son patrick after you leave for yale...i'm creaming just imagining all the nasty things he'd say LMAO
RAAHHH AND YOU KNOW HE WOULD :((((((
calling you when you're studying for your advanced civil rights advocacy exam because he's "really missing you, professor."
you're smiling despite the scoff you let out into the phone, "i'm busy patrick, we can't all ride the president's coattails."
patrick snorts, you can hear the sound of footsteps on his end followed by a door closing. "yeah i'm a huge disappointment and you're off being superwoman blah blah blah i know, what are you wearing?"
you roll your eyes, looking down at your yale blue sweatshirt and matching bottoms you got from the spirit shop, "sweats."
patrick whistles, low and long. you hear even more shuffling, the sound of a zipper being dragged down. "that's hot so baby, keep going."
he sounds weird, like he's somewhere super echoy. your brows furrow, sitting up straighter in your desk chair as you strain your ears. "where are you?"
"lincoln bedroom," he says easily, his voice gone breathy around the edges.
your brows shoot up in surprise. "patrick, are you seriously—"
"yes, ma'am," he cuts in, voice dropping to a low whisper, "take the sweats off."
you can’t help the laughter that bubbles up, a mix of disbelief and amusement. "you’re supposed to be working, not—"
"trust me, i’m working on something very important," he murmurs, and you can practically see the smirk on his face. “i was in this boring ass meeting with my dad, started thinking about the last time you were here. fuck, you remember? i do, god i remember. never gonna forget how that pussy cried over my fucking dick…”
he trails off into a moan, shaky and broken through your phones speaker.
your cheeks heat up, ears burning with it. you do remember.
you bite your lip, it's tempting, so tempting— but you like giving patrick a hard time, making him work for it a little. "pat i'm not failing this test cause i stopped studying to listen to you jerk off in the lincoln bedroom."
"you're not gonna fail, you should take a break anyway. come on, humor me for a second. please professor?"
you can feel the familiar warmth starting to simmer just beneath your skin, swirling in the pit of your stomach, and you try so hard to ignore it. patrick always gets what he wants, you refuse to give in so easily.
but it's so hard. he makes it so hard.
especially when moves the phone close to where he's fucking his fist over the length of his dick. voice low and breathy as he rambles on, "can you hear that shit? got so fuckin' wet thinking about you, so hard i had to leave the goddamn meeting..."
you close your eyes with the shuddery inhale, you can practically see the way his thick cock leaks messily all over his hand. the way his heavy balls bounce with every tug.
the image of him, sprawled out on some historical piece of 1800th century furniture with his dick pulled out of his nine-hundred dollar suit pants just because he thought of you, is enough to have you slide your hand down the waistband of your sweats. you let out a tiny gasp when your fingers brush against your clit, biting your tongue when your start rubbing small circles over yourself to the wet sound of patrick's dick.
"you're awfully quiet," patrick teases, voice closer to the phone again. "wanna share with the class?"
"fuck you, patrick,"
there's a pause, and you picture him biting his lip, his eyes screwed shut in pleasure. "god, just thinking about you, the way you looked the last time...how tight you were around me...it's fucking torture."
you swallow hard, trying to maintain control, but fuck you miss him too. you miss seeing him in tight suits, you miss his hand on the small of your back when your parent's aren't looking, you miss him dragging you out of galas and fundraisers so he can fuck you in the bathroom, you miss the thick stretch of his dick bullying into your pussy over and over and over.
you can feel the tension building, the tight coil in your belly winding tighter with every filthy word.
"pat..." you begin, but your voice falters when he lets out a low, drawn-out groan that has your knees weakening, even from a distance. your hand falters, slipping lower to push two fingers into your aching hole, eager to chase the release that's sneaking up on you.
"i know you’re touching yourself," he murmurs, voice dropping an octave. "fuck i wish i could see you, baby. see how good you look with your fingers buried in that tight fuckin' pussy."
a high whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it, and patrick’s laugh is dark and knowing. "yeah, that’s what I thought," he purrs. "don’t stop now. want you to come for me, professor. right here, right now, while i’m fucking my hand thinking about you."
you close your eyes, giving in to the warmth flooding through your veins. each thrust of your fingers becomes more frantic, more desperate as his words push you closer to the edge.
"that’s it," patrick breathes out, his voice growing ragged. "you’re so close, i can hear it. shit, i wish i was there to feel you come around me. you’re so fucking tight when you come—"
you’re trembling now, the tension in your body wound so tightly you feel like you could snap any second. his moans are erratic, matching the pace of your fingers as you chase the high he's pulling you towards.
“say my name,” he demands, a groan slipping past his lips as he nears his own climax. “say it when you come, i want to hear it.”
"patrick," you whisper, your voice shaky, barely able to get the words out as your breathing quickens, "i'm so close—"
"yeah? me too, baby," he pants, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts. "come for me, i want to hear you."
that’s all it takes. with one last stroke, the tension unravels, and you’re tumbling over the edge, your body shuddering with the force of your release. his name spills from your lips, a breathless chant as waves of pleasure crash over you.
patrick follows right after, his moan deep and guttural, the sound vibrating through the phone and settling low in your belly. there’s a beat of silence, just the two of you breathing heavily, coming down from the high.
finally, you manage to catch your breath, a lazy smile tugging at your lips. "you’re going to get us both in trouble one of these days," you murmur, still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm.
patrick laughs softly, the sound content and sated. "it'll be worth it," he replies, his voice filled with satisfaction. "totally worth it."
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