Honestly, Pat isn't sure how they got here. He's had a lot to drink, and they've been engaged in about four hours of what was Mario Kart war but turned into an epic Smash Bros. tournament, and somewhere along the way bets that required badges of honour were made, except instead of badges of honour somebody—okay, probably Pat—decided they were to be badges of shame, and somebody—again, probably Pat—decided the winner got to mark the loser so everybody could heckle him until it faded.

Jonny doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to be doing this, but there’s a contract, there are rules, and he’s got as little of a choice as Patrick does.

In which Sharpy bothers Jonny with his camera, and Jonny, well, likes it a lot.

Jonny shows Patrick how it works. And by "it", I mean his dick. Jonny's, but temporarily Patrick's.

Jonny’s prostate is a gift from the gods. Patrick’s patience, also.

For Patrick, half the point of coming out was to finally be able to have decent sex. He just wasn't expecting it to be with Jonny.

“That's three,” Oshie says, none of Jonny's smugness but all of his confidence. “Whatcha gonna give me for four, Kaner?” Pat really wishes he had his mouthguard, something to spin and lick, except he probably shouldn't be distracting Oshie right now, so he just shoulders him and says, “Fuck four; you win this for us, you get to ask for anything.” Series

Patrick's text says: sometimes all I can think about is rubbing my dick all over your tits. It's not meant for Jonny, but maybe he wishes it were.