Pete was positive he wasn't sucking Patrick's cock when the aliens came.

He was thinking about it, of course, because he was always thinking about it. But the only thing in his mouth was a Dorito. Since he landed on the spaceship with Patrick's dick in his mouth, he pretty much figured they could read his mind.

That or they thought cocks and Doritos were the same. But that was a little too far-fetched, even considering that they were on an alien vessel.

He sat back on his heels, careful not to bite Patrick's dick. "That," he said, "does not taste as good as Spicy Buffalo Doritos."

"You're like a walking product placement," Patrick said. He shoved his hat down harder and zipped his pants up, bright red. "Where are we?"

"Looks like an alien spaceship."

"...What."

Pete nodded over Patrick's shoulder. "Dude, check it out."

All the red drained out of Patrick's face when he saw the earth out the window. "That's impossible."

"Also, there was a beam of light," Pete said. "We were totally beamed up."

"So you could suck me off? No way. This is a dream."

"Oh, you dream about me blowing you a lot?"

"I never said it was my dream," Patrick said.

It was Pete's turn to blush. "Yeah. Well. This sucks, whatever it is."

"It could be worse," Patrick said, looking around.

Pete let his attention wander from the earth - the fucking earth, which was out a window instead of under their feet - long enough to take in their surroundings. They were in a curved room, way smaller than Pete's had been at his parents'. There wasn't a bed, just piles of cushions. "Hey, do you think they took us here to make us have sex?"

Patrick punched his shoulder. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Aliens don't care about gay sex."

Pete thought Patrick's cock in his mouth kind of disproved that point, actually, but he could wait to see.

||

Aliens definitely cared about gay sex.

"Seriously," Pete said, staring at Greta and Charlotte through the wall that had suddenly become see-through, "there's no other explanation."

"It could be an illusion," Patrick said.

Greta was making orgasm noises and Pete was the worst boss ever, because he couldn't look away. "I, uh. Yeah. Hey, if they're illusions it's not illegal, right?"

Patrick flopped back. His side was warm and comfortable against Pete. "Jesus fucking Christ."

"That's not all you'll be fucking," Pete said.

This time, Patrick didn't even punch him.

||

"Okay," Pete said to the alien. "The thing is - "

The alien pushed the platter up until it was almost touching Pete's nose. The dildo on it rolled menacingly towards the edge.

"Fuck," Pete said.

"I think the aliens want you to top." Patrick craned his neck to look at his own ass dubiously. "They did beam Greta and Charlotte back."

"You don't know that," Pete said. "They could have beamed them to, like. A prison colony."

"They beamed them somewhere, then. Do you think we're more likely to get thrown in jail for cooperating or not?"

Pete knew he was being irrational, but - dildo. "It could be a reverse society," he said. "Where like, giving in is a sign of weakness. You don't know."

"You're a moron. He's a moron," Patrick told the platter-carrying alien.

It blinked at him wordlessly. One eye looked so much weirder in real life than it did in the Odysseus picture book Pete had read as a kid.

"Thanks, Cyclops," he said finally, and grabbed the dildo.

The alien tucked the empty platter under its chin flap, pointed at Patrick, gave Pete a stern look, and left.

Pete felt dizzy. "So. I think I'm going to puke."

"I can't get it up with puke smell," Patrick said. He took his glasses off and cleaned them before setting them on the ground, sitting on a cushion next to them. "Okay, let's see."

Pete watched as he wiggled out of his pants because, hey, he was only human. "Wait," he said when Patrick screwed his eyes shut, "what the fuck?"

"Low impact," Patrick said. wrapping his hand around his dick. "I'm thinking about Luke Skywalker."

Luke Skywalker. Luke fucking Skywalker. "I'm going to kill you," Pete said, and tackled him.

Patrick punched him in the jaw this time, but Pete was determined. Patrick stopped struggling when Pete shoved a knee into his kidney and grabbed his glasses. "Hah," Pete said, panting.

"Asshole. Give them to me."

"Hey, you took them off." And because Pete could never really turn down a chance to fuck with Patrick, he put the glasses on himself, leaning down and crossing his eyes.

Patrick didn't even look pissed, though, just tired. "Pete, come on. We need to get this over with."

Which, okay, totally unacceptable. Pete was supposed to be the one with all the bad ideas. "Patrick."

Another blush was spreading all over Patrick's face, blotchy and adorable. "I'm not joking, Pete, will you just stick the thing in -"

Pete leaned down and kissed him.

It was nice, seriously nice. Better than Doritos nice. And it went on for a long time, until Patrick tried to breathe and Pete accidentally licked his chin.

"Gross," Patrick said.

Pete winced. "Sorry. I'm usually better than this."

"I've seen you have sex," Patrick said, "because you're a shitty vanmate. Give me my glasses."

Pete took them off and handed them over, because he couldn't think of anything else to do.

He wasn't expecting Patrick to smile up at Pete when he got them on, pulling Pete down. "Hey."

"Uhhhhh," Pete said. Alien sex drugs, maybe? It wasn't impossible, but -

Patrick kissing him wiped the thoughts out of his brain. Consensual Patrick-kissing, it turned out, was pretty much awesome. "Okay," Patrick said when Pete's hands started Operation Jerk Patrick Off, "dildo. We have to use the dildo."

"You can kiss it like a porn girl," Pete said, running his thumb over the head of Patrick's dick. "It's not like they'll know, right?"

"No. Yes. Maybe." Patrick shook his head. "I'm not kissing the dildo, asshole. You have to fuck me with it."

Pete tried to say 'I've never done that before', but what came out was, "What about lube, though?"

"It feels funny already." Patrick squeezed the dildo, then blinked. "I think they made it self-lubing."

"Oh shit," Pete said, and burst out laughing.

Patrick was laughing too, and it was totally turning into one of those moments they'd remember when they were old and mushy-nostalgic, right up to the point where Pete elbowed Patrick in the nose.

"...oops," he said when the first drop of blood appeared.

Patrick stabbed him in the stomach with the dildo. "Now I need a Band-Aid," he said. "Outer space doesn't have Band-Aids. Fuck me so I can go home and get one."

It was a persuasive argument. Pete scooted back and got his hand back around Patrick's dick, poking dubiously at his ass with the dildo. "So, how do I do this, exactly?"

Patrick froze. "What."

"You know." Pete pushed the dildo a little, poking again. "Is there any technique? There is, right?"

"I hate you," Patrick said vehemently. "You've made me listen to you have sex for years. Are you trying to tell me you never fucked someone in the ass? Give me that," he added before Pete had a chance to answer.

Pete handed it over, and Patrick...

Patrick twisted, working it in somehow quickly and slowly at the same time. Pete might have been able to figure out which it was if he could tear his eyes away from Patrick's wrist twisting, his hand wrapped around thedildo, long enough to check his phone. Instead he was staring, watching Patrick arch his back and thrust his hips until the dildo was all the way in.

"Wow," he said finally.

"It's not that hard," Patrick said.

He sounded breathless. Pete cupped himself through his pants. "Well, I am."

"How nice for you," Patrick said. "You have to fuck me or we'll be here forever, and I'll put my noseblood in all your food."

"That's disgusting," Pete said. "Can I take my pants off?"

He realized it was a mistake when Patrick laughed - no, cackled. Maybe the aliens had made him evil, too. "Not yet."

Pete wanted to argue, but Patrick grabbed his hand and pulled it to the dildo, and when Pete flexed his fingers too quickly, he bumped the dildo and brushed the tips of his fingers against Patrick's ass.

He couldn't say anything, then, seeing what just the tiny movement did to Patrick.

"Okay," he said quietly, carefully taking hold of the dildo. "Like this?"

"You have to thrust it," Patrick said. He was jerking himself off slowly, neck craned to watch Pete. "Come on, it's not hard. You have one too."

"Liar, I don't own a self-lubing dildo." Pete tilted it, thrust it slowly.

"Ass," Patrick said. Pete wasn't sure if it was supposed to be what Pete owned or what he was; when Patrick moaned and moved back against the dildo, he was pretty sure it didn't matter.

"We could do this when we get home, too," he said, thrusting harder. "Not with the self-lubing, but with dicks, maybe. Kissing at least, if you don't want...you know. I liked the kissing."

"You," Patrick said, gasping, "are so, so fucking stupid."

"You knew that," Pete said. He thrust the dildo harder - and then, when Patrick made a choked-off whimpering noise, even harder. "That's your prostate, right? Clits are so much easier than this, man."

Maybe their ship had reduced gravity: Patrick managed to glare, come all over his stomach, and kick Pete all at the same time.

"Ow," Pete said. "Ow," he added when the dildo hit his head. "Also, ew."

"You've had worse things in your hair," Patrick said. "Jesus. Get over here."

Pete leaned down, a little worried Patrick was going to go for actual bodily damage. Or more bodily damage, whatever. He wasn't expecting Patrick to put a hand on the back of Pete's neck and kiss him, totally movie-star style, slow and easy until Pete gave up on holding himself up.

"Uh," he said when Patrick unbuttoned his pants.

"You'd better still be hard," Patrick said. "Oh, good."

"Nrgh," Pete said.

Patrick started jerking him off slowly, keeping his lips against Pete's cheek. "I like kissing too," he said. "I always fucking have."

"Aliens," Pete gasped, trying not to come.

"Story for the grandkids," Patrick said.

Pete wasn't going to come. Grandkids weren't sexy. Grandkids were totally not sexy, and neither was the thought of sharing a nursing home room with Patrick, or rocking on the porch and buying a scary dog to eat stray baseballs, or...

Pete came.

Patrick wiped the come off on the floor and just sort of held him, the frame of his glasses making a slow but steady bruise on the side of Pete's neck. It wasn't quite a hickey, but Pete was planning on showing it off anyway, as soon as they got back to earth. If they got back to earth.

"I'm going to tell everyone you're my boyfriend," Pete said awhile later. "I'll get you a t-shirt."

"All the clothes you touch turn to ugly," Patrick said.

Pete was going to defend his honor, but the door swished open again, and big-chinned Cyclops walked in.

"We did the nasty," Pete told him. "No babies, but we gave it our all. Home runs for all."

Patrick groaned. "That's so fucking cheesy."

The alien didn't answer either of them, of course, just bent down and picked up the dildo. Pete didn't realize what he was doing until he sniffed it, single eye regarding them gravely.

"....Dude," Pete said finally. "It's like. If Dirty only had one eye."

"I know," Patrick said, sounding awed.

Pete didn't realize until the guy opened it that he even had a mouth. "Holy shit," he said. "Patrick! Check out the -"

"Beam me up, Scotty," the alien croaked, and the ship disappeared.

Or maybe they disappeared. Pete would actually never be clear on that point. Either way, one second they were lying on a pile of somewhat smelly cushions, and the next they were on the bus and Hemmy was taking a flying leap for Pete's face.

Pete beamed. "Patrick! We're home!"

"Your chin is dripping in dog spit," Patrick said.

But he was grinning, and when Pete made Hem sit still long enough for him to wipe his face and kiss Patrick hard, Patrick didn't even pretend to try to stop him.

||

Pete campaigned long and hard for the wedding cake to be shaped like a dildo. He had to settle for a saucer, but it was worth it anyway - partly because getting married to Patrick was fucking awesome, and partly because he got to say 'long and hard' in his speech at the reception.