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Liberi Fatali, Nobuo Uematsu, FF8 OST
Patrick took a deep stabilizing breath before reopening his eyes. Pete looked back at him, smirking like he always had. But this was different. Ever since he'd let that bitch's claws since into him, he'd been a different person. Pete attacked first, charging in with a sneering smile. Patrick blocked easily with his blade, kicking Pete in the stomach to get him away. This would easily be the longest battle of his life. He grimaced as he readied the spell, fingertips sparking and burning with stolen magic. This was going to hurt them both but maybe it would hurt Pete enough that they'd never have to fight again.
Turn Out The Lights, The Music, The Music
Pete slowly kissed his way down Patrick's torso, meandering from the straight path he had meant to take. Patrick squirmed and keened beneath him and Pete smiled into the next kiss, just left of his right nipple and bit. Patrick hissed out a "fuck" before falling back into the pillows. Pete laid his head against his hip, letting his breath ghost over Patrick half-hard cock and analyzing the hitches and sighs it caused. His hand seemed to slide over the thigh before him on its own, feeling the texture of every hair as his eyes soaked in the dichotomy. He looked up through his lashes and smiled. Patrick just smiled back and ran a hand through his hair.
"Tell me a story of forever."
Question!, System of a Down, Mesmerize
Pete stared down at the table between them, hands clenching and unclenching. Fist. Palm. Fist. Palm. "I don't believe in you." He laughed. "You're nothing but a figment of my overactive imagination, a ghoul created by my mind to make me remember something inane like a guitar lesson or something. You're not real. You haven't been for... not like this." The other stared back at him sadly, opened his mouth. Pete could see it in the reflection in the highly polished table, could see the failing flesh and dead eyes. "Out. Now. Please."
Good Girls Go Bad (Cash Cash Remix), Cobra Starship/Leighton Meester, GGGB Remixes
They met on a hot dance floor on a Saturday night. Well, no, that was a lie. They'd met at the bar. He had been dancing all night. Patrick knew. He'd been watching as he flitted around, grinding against just about anything with a pulse. On the few occasions he'd looked up, his eyes had been smoldering and half lidded. Once, they locked on to his. Patrick just gripped his drink and turned away. Seconds later, a sweaty body plastered itself to his back and a face found a cradle at his neck. A wet rough tongue brushed over his pulse as hands slid over his thighs.
"Dance with me. I know you want to, you've been looking all night. Don't be such a little pussy about it. Live a little."