[ Instead of asking if Patrick is actually mad (David has a feeling he doesn't want to know the answer), he just sends another picture. This time, his zipper is undone and his hand has disappeared inside his jeans to hold himself properly, the camera tastefully capturing the trail of hair that runs down to his groin.
He doesn't have to fake anything, it really does turn him on to fluster Patrick like this. ]
[ God. Patrick quickly puts his phone away and doesn't look at it again until after the day's closing remarks.
Or at least that's the plan. In reality he makes it to the afternoon break, forgoing the shitty coffee and questionable pastries on offer in favor of ducking into a bathroom stall to finally look at that picture type a reply. ]
Making deals with new vendors requires not scandalizing them before I've even had a chance to introduce myself, you know.
[ While David has unfortunately gotten bored of waiting around for Patrick to finally give in and message him back, he did take a few more pictures to have ready for when that moment came.
So when it does, Patrick just gets another shot of David, jeans tugged down around his thighs, dick out and being squeezed in a way that shows off the length of him. David knows his camera angles. Even if he's currently walking to the Cafe for a second lunch. ]
[ Good lord. Patrick scrubs a hand over his face, staring at the picture. It's nothing he hadn't seen before, obviously, but something about the thought of David touching himself while texting him, of that much being enough to get him that hard, maybe even to get him off...
It's really not the kind of thing he needs to be thinking about here in the middle of a conference. He lets out a slow breath, trying to stay in control of himself. ]
You really want me to show these to the vendors?
[ Not that he ever would, even with David's permission, but the mere suggestion is...
[ David stops in the middle of the street while checking his phone because that was not the response he was expecting. Biting down on a grin, he quickly shuffles the rest of the way to the Cafe's outdoor table and throws himself down in a chair, finally typing out a reply instead of just sending a picture. ]
Just the ones you really like.
[ Because after they'd danced around Jake, that possibly-not-quite-joke implies a lot. ]
[ Which, wow. Doesn't even come close to plumbing the depths of...whatever it is they may or may not be talking about here. He hesitates. Are they talking about that? Or is this a joke? Or David being insecure? ]
I like you
[ He adds, after a minute. Just in case it's David's insecurities after all. ]
[ He's grinning into his phone, very much in public, and considering moving somewhere more private so he can pick another of the pictures to send back to Patrick when he gets the follow-up message. ]
Prove it?
I promise I won't show it to anyone. No matter how much I like them.
[ Patrick rolls his eyes, but he's grinning too, smiling stupidly down at his phone. Icebreaker. Sure.
But David's reassurance that he'll keep Patrick's photos private, even as he's, apparently, giving Patrick permission not to do the same, is reassuring. Whatever boundaries they're probing at here, no one's going to cross them without a discussion first. Patrick isn't planning on actually sharing anything this weekend, even if David says he's okay with it.
He's about to type back there's nothing to show, but then he realizes that's not quite true anymore. Bland, impersonal public bathroom or not, between David's pictures and the scores of mental images this conversation is inspiring, something's having an effect, and Patrick's half-hard in his business-casual slacks.
He hesitates, wondering just how to proceed, and then mirrors the first picture David had sent, just his hand wrapped loosely but deliberately around the bulge in his pants. ]
[ When he gets the picture message, David is expecting some kind of a joke like the first one Patrick had sent earlier. When he opens it and it decidedly is not that, David lurches to his feet so hard and so fast that the patio chair goes toppling out from underneath him. Eyes wide.
He needs to get home. Now. ]
You spoil me.
[ He's texting while almost jogging, thumbing through which picture to respond with. He chooses one that doesn't show his dick at all, is instead a shot of his head and shoulders thrown back into a mess of rumpled sheets, lip bitten, eyes closed. Obviously in the middle of touching himself. ]
And you're making my mouth water, I'll have you know.
[ Don't ask for more than you can handle, David. But Patrick knows what he means, even if there's that quiet thrill again just at the thought that he's having this kind of effect on his husband from so far away. Just from texting him a picture.
The picture David sends back has him closing his eyes, drawing in a shuddering breath before he sends back another. His pants are still on, the belt still done up, but he's unzipped his fly and his hand has disappeared inside, cupping what's obviously more than the half-mast in the picture he'd sent earlier.]
[ And it bodes well for Patrick maybe doing more, so even though David is still a block from Patrick's apartment, he's ready to try his luck. The worst that can happen is that he says no, right? ]
[ There's no please attached this time, but honestly, that just makes Patrick want to obey even more. David's mouth may be watering, but Patrick's feels completely dry.
There's a call from outside in the hallway, and then a slight uptick in ambient noise as people finish their conversations, exhange business cards, or grab a last pastry. The final panel of the day must be starting, but there's absolutely no question of Patrick attending it now.
The bathroom stall isn't ideal either, though. Honestly, it's a fucking miracle no one else had come in while he's been sitting here. ]
I'm in a bathroom.
Can I go back to the hotel first?
[ It is, significantly, a question, and not an announcement. He really, really wants to be back in that bed, the door firmly locked, but he waits, all the same, for David's response. For his permission or denial. ]
[ The fact that Patrick is asking at all sends a stab of lust through David that's almost a physical pain and it's a good thing he's reached the stairwell of the apartment now and is still utterly alone. ]
Just show me first?
[ He wants more of this and he doesn't want Patrick uncomfortable. But he's greedy by nature. ]
Then get to your hotel. Fast. I'm calling in five minutes.
[ And there's another picture sent after, an older one from that morning of David's legs spread and tangled in the sheets, the shot running down the length of his body and his hand holding his cock up straight and hard and centered. The picture is hardly a lie anymore at this point. ]
[ The picture is enough to make Patrick reconsider just going back to the hotel at all. He wants to be where David is, now. But Schitt's Creek is three hours away, and he's still got another full day of panels and networking tomorrow. He's not quite that far gone (yet).
He doesn't bother texting anything back, just lets out a sigh of mingled need and relief before undoing his belt with shaking hands. There is a moment of hesitation once he gets his cock out, holding his phone up to it awkwardly. He's never actually sent anyone a dick pic before.
But it's David. It's David, and he'd asked, and he'd promised not to share.
The picture is followed by a quick three-word text. ]
just for you
[ And then he's shoving his phone into his pocket without waiting for a reply, yanking his clothes back on as quickly as possible so he can book it back to the hotel. ]
[ David is disappointed when he's made it to Patrick's door and fumbled for his extra key and still hasn't received either an answer or a picture, but his phone vibrates in his pocket just as he's shutting the door and his heart jumps.
He's still staring at the new picture, back against the closed door, one hand squeezing his cock through his jeans, when the next text pops up. A direction. It isn't a perfectly composed shot but by god, it looks perfect to David. ]
Yes sir.
Your 5 minutes start now.
[ David has barely pressed SEND before he's pulling his sweater off over his head like an awkward toddler and trying to cross the apartment to Patrick's bed at the same time. ]
[ The hotel, luckily, is across the street. What's not so lucky is the state David had left Patrick in. It's almost physically painful to get himself back in his pants, let alone face the prospect of walking all the way back like that, and while he knows he's being paranoid, it sure feels like the bulge in his pants is obvious enough to be visible from the other side of town.
He splashes water on his face before he leaves, doing his best to fix his clothing and try to make himself look normal and not like he'd just been sexting in a bathroom stall. Then he ducks out, head down, laptop case held in a position that hopefully hides him from most angles while not...looking like he's trying to hide himself.
God, he didn't need these flashbacks to high school.
He honestly has no idea how long it actually takes him to get back to his hotel room, just that he somehow, miraculously manages to do so without running into anyone he'd met at the conference. Once the door's shut, he leans back against it, closing his eyes and breathing in deep as he gently lowers his laptop case to the floor. ]
[ David is impatient, as always, and he's already taken a dozen pictures of himself thrown back on Patrick's bed, shirtless and holding himself with his jeans wide open, and also edited the best ones to send long before Patrick has gotten the door shut behind him.
Because of that, there are several pictures and texts waiting for him when he finally digs out his phone. ]
I swear to god I can taste you because of that picture.
Can I call? I'm calling.
[ He doesn't even hesitate before choosing the video call option and when Patrick answers David is biting his lip, grinning, and half buried in Patrick's neatly arranged pillows. ]
[ Patrick had felt his phone buzzing in his pocket practically all the way back to the hotel, but hadn't dared to even look before he was safely inside. When he finally pulls it out, it's just in time for David's last text to come through, following a string of tantalizing pictures that Patrick will definitely be studying at his leisure later.
For now, though, the phone is ringing, and he accepts the video call to find David smiling coyly up at him from - yep, that's Patrick's bed. ]
David.
[ He's not exactly out of breath from his rush back from the conference center, but he's a little flushed and rumpled, his eyes dark as he gazes at his phone, drinking in the sight of David, that smile on his face. ]
You look -
[ Delicious. Amazing. Like he belongs here with Patrick, instead. ]
[ For a moment he almost hears scolding in the clipped way Patrick huffs out 'David', but then David catches the look in his eyes and the tension in Patrick's tone takes on a far more exciting meaning. ]
You don't.
[ He pouts melodramatically, nestling farther into Patrick's own preferred pillow so he can smell him better. ]
Get comfortable, Patrick.
[ He uses the tone of low authority that he knows Patrick loves and stares him down through the phone, biting his lip. ]
[ He's right about that. Patrick's slacks aren't especially tight, but things are getting uncomfortable all the same. He swallows hard at the commanding tone in David's voice, that dark, intense look in his eyes that's almost too much, even on the tiny phone screen.
He swallows, mouth dry, and then nods, hesitating just for a moment as he glances around the room, before he leans the phone against the TV, backing up until the camera's in the perfect place to capture him undoing his belt, unbuttoning his shirt, then finally unzipping his pants and letting him fall as he toes off his shoes.
It's not until he's down to his boxers, his erection painfully visible through them, that he retrieves the phone and gets settled back on the bed. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ Instead of asking if Patrick is actually mad (David has a feeling he doesn't want to know the answer), he just sends another picture. This time, his zipper is undone and his hand has disappeared inside his jeans to hold himself properly, the camera tastefully capturing the trail of hair that runs down to his groin.
He doesn't have to fake anything, it really does turn him on to fluster Patrick like this. ]
no subject
Or at least that's the plan. In reality he makes it to the afternoon break, forgoing the shitty coffee and questionable pastries on offer in favor of ducking into a bathroom stall to finally
look at that picturetype a reply. ]Making deals with new vendors requires not scandalizing them before I've even had a chance to introduce myself, you know.
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So when it does, Patrick just gets another shot of David, jeans tugged down around his thighs, dick out and being squeezed in a way that shows off the length of him. David knows his camera angles. Even if he's currently walking to the Cafe for a second lunch. ]
I guess it depends on the vendors.
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It's really not the kind of thing he needs to be thinking about here in the middle of a conference. He lets out a slow breath, trying to stay in control of himself. ]
You really want me to show these to the vendors?
[ Not that he ever would, even with David's permission, but the mere suggestion is...
Well, it sure isn't helping things. ]
no subject
Just the ones you really like.
[ Because after they'd danced around Jake, that possibly-not-quite-joke implies a lot. ]
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[ Which, wow. Doesn't even come close to plumbing the depths of...whatever it is they may or may not be talking about here. He hesitates. Are they talking about that? Or is this a joke? Or David being insecure? ]
I like you
[ He adds, after a minute. Just in case it's David's insecurities after all. ]
no subject
[ He's grinning into his phone, very much in public, and considering moving somewhere more private so he can pick another of the pictures to send back to Patrick when he gets the follow-up message. ]
Prove it?
I promise I won't show it to anyone. No matter how much I like them.
no subject
But David's reassurance that he'll keep Patrick's photos private, even as he's, apparently, giving Patrick permission not to do the same, is reassuring. Whatever boundaries they're probing at here, no one's going to cross them without a discussion first. Patrick isn't planning on actually sharing anything this weekend, even if David says he's okay with it.
He's about to type back there's nothing to show, but then he realizes that's not quite true anymore. Bland, impersonal public bathroom or not, between David's pictures and the scores of mental images this conversation is inspiring, something's having an effect, and Patrick's half-hard in his business-casual slacks.
He hesitates, wondering just how to proceed, and then mirrors the first picture David had sent, just his hand wrapped loosely but deliberately around the bulge in his pants. ]
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He needs to get home. Now. ]
You spoil me.
[ He's texting while almost jogging, thumbing through which picture to respond with. He chooses one that doesn't show his dick at all, is instead a shot of his head and shoulders thrown back into a mess of rumpled sheets, lip bitten, eyes closed. Obviously in the middle of touching himself. ]
And you're making my mouth water, I'll have you know.
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[ Don't ask for more than you can handle, David. But Patrick knows what he means, even if there's that quiet thrill again just at the thought that he's having this kind of effect on his husband from so far away. Just from texting him a picture.
The picture David sends back has him closing his eyes, drawing in a shuddering breath before he sends back another. His pants are still on, the belt still done up, but he's unzipped his fly and his hand has disappeared inside, cupping what's obviously more than the half-mast in the picture he'd sent earlier.]
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[ And it bodes well for Patrick maybe doing more, so even though David is still a block from Patrick's apartment, he's ready to try his luck. The worst that can happen is that he says no, right? ]
Take it out.
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There's a call from outside in the hallway, and then a slight uptick in ambient noise as people finish their conversations, exhange business cards, or grab a last pastry. The final panel of the day must be starting, but there's absolutely no question of Patrick attending it now.
The bathroom stall isn't ideal either, though. Honestly, it's a fucking miracle no one else had come in while he's been sitting here. ]
I'm in a bathroom.
Can I go back to the hotel first?
[ It is, significantly, a question, and not an announcement. He really, really wants to be back in that bed, the door firmly locked, but he waits, all the same, for David's response. For his permission or denial. ]
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Just show me first?
[ He wants more of this and he doesn't want Patrick uncomfortable. But he's greedy by nature. ]
Then get to your hotel. Fast.
I'm calling in five minutes.
[ And there's another picture sent after, an older one from that morning of David's legs spread and tangled in the sheets, the shot running down the length of his body and his hand holding his cock up straight and hard and centered. The picture is hardly a lie anymore at this point. ]
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He doesn't bother texting anything back, just lets out a sigh of mingled need and relief before undoing his belt with shaking hands. There is a moment of hesitation once he gets his cock out, holding his phone up to it awkwardly. He's never actually sent anyone a dick pic before.
But it's David. It's David, and he'd asked, and he'd promised not to share.
The picture is followed by a quick three-word text. ]
just for you
[ And then he's shoving his phone into his pocket without waiting for a reply, yanking his clothes back on as quickly as possible so he can book it back to the hotel. ]
no subject
He's still staring at the new picture, back against the closed door, one hand squeezing his cock through his jeans, when the next text pops up. A direction. It isn't a perfectly composed shot but by god, it looks perfect to David. ]
Yes sir.
Your 5 minutes start now.
[ David has barely pressed SEND before he's pulling his sweater off over his head like an awkward toddler and trying to cross the apartment to Patrick's bed at the same time. ]
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He splashes water on his face before he leaves, doing his best to fix his clothing and try to make himself look normal and not like he'd just been sexting in a bathroom stall. Then he ducks out, head down, laptop case held in a position that hopefully hides him from most angles while not...looking like he's trying to hide himself.
God, he didn't need these flashbacks to high school.
He honestly has no idea how long it actually takes him to get back to his hotel room, just that he somehow, miraculously manages to do so without running into anyone he'd met at the conference. Once the door's shut, he leans back against it, closing his eyes and breathing in deep as he gently lowers his laptop case to the floor. ]
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Because of that, there are several pictures and texts waiting for him when he finally digs out his phone. ]
I swear to god I can taste you because of that picture.
Can I call?
I'm calling.
[ He doesn't even hesitate before choosing the video call option and when Patrick answers David is biting his lip, grinning, and half buried in Patrick's neatly arranged pillows. ]
Hey, you.
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For now, though, the phone is ringing, and he accepts the video call to find David smiling coyly up at him from - yep, that's Patrick's bed. ]
David.
[ He's not exactly out of breath from his rush back from the conference center, but he's a little flushed and rumpled, his eyes dark as he gazes at his phone, drinking in the sight of David, that smile on his face. ]
You look -
[ Delicious. Amazing. Like he belongs here with Patrick, instead. ]
Comfortable.
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You don't.
[ He pouts melodramatically, nestling farther into Patrick's own preferred pillow so he can smell him better. ]
Get comfortable, Patrick.
[ He uses the tone of low authority that he knows Patrick loves and stares him down through the phone, biting his lip. ]
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He swallows, mouth dry, and then nods, hesitating just for a moment as he glances around the room, before he leans the phone against the TV, backing up until the camera's in the perfect place to capture him undoing his belt, unbuttoning his shirt, then finally unzipping his pants and letting him fall as he toes off his shoes.
It's not until he's down to his boxers, his erection painfully visible through them, that he retrieves the phone and gets settled back on the bed. ]
Better?