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These khakis haven't seen the light of day in quite a while. Patrick tucks in the white button-down, zips up, and buckles his belt. He digs up a striped tie and a pair of wire-frame glasses that, well, god knows where these are even from. He steals a little of David's hair product to slick his hair to the side.

Patrick chuckles to himself as he admires himself in the bathroom mirror and heads to the living room where he knows David is glued to the TV.

"Scuse me, would you happen to know what thirty six thousand, five hundred seventy two minus ten thousand, two hundred and fifty three is?" Patrick begins in an overly dramatic seductive voice.

David whips his head around and his jaw drops. Patrick walks up and straddles David on his knees on the couch and shoves his tongue into his mouth.

"It's twenty six thousand, three hundred and nineteen," he whispers into David's mouth and ruts into his chest. "I saw you checking me out all week."

"Fuck. Marry me?" David breathes.

Patrick doesn't have a chance to decide if he should be offended or not because David shoves him back onto his feet and wrestles with his belt buckle. He backs Patrick up against the nearest wall, rips Patrick's shirt from his khakis and shoves his boxers down. Patrick grinds against David's thigh for a quick thrill before David drops to his knees.

"Fuck, I love when you talk numbers to me, baby," David mumbles with a mouthful of his quickly growing cock.

"Pennsylvan -- aaahhhh -- is getting us," Patrick sputters, "Thirteen thousand ballots an -- an hour."

David's hands make their way up Patrick's shirt and around to grip his ass, so he grabs a fistful of David's hair. David cries out in pleasure as Patrick tugs his head upward, long, dark eyelashes fluttering. The vibrations from David's mouth reverberate through his cock and up his spine and Patrick emits a low, guttural moan.

He tugs David's hair again and fucks deeper into his mouth.

"A batch from Northampton county brings Biden to -- ungh -- a lead of," Patrick groans through clenched teeth. "Sixteen thousand, seven hundred and eighty four."

David opens up his throat to take Patrick's entire length, bumping the back with every thrust. David's hands leave his hips and Patrick looks down to see him frantically tugging at his sweatpants. He briefly lets Patrick's cock go to spit into his palm, but quickly resumes the delectable sucking.

"Oh fuck yeah, David. Show everyone that beautiful cock. They get to see but only I get to touch," Patrick rasps. David lets out a long, reedy whimper when Patrick tugs his hair again.

Now David haphazardly works both cocks, breathing growing ragged and whines increasing in pitch. All it takes is the perfect nails on David's free hand raking down Patrick's lower back to send him tumbling over the edge. Patrick slams his fists into the wall behind him as he comes with a shout, arching his back as he pulses down David's throat. Patrick leans back in bliss as his breathing slows and vision returns. David's head rests on his hip, stubble prickling his bare outer thigh. He groans as Patrick forces himself upright, seeing the come dripping out of David's fist onto the hardwood.

David looks up with a dopey smile, those chocolatey eyes blissfully sex-drunk and coiffed hair ruined. Patrick helps him up and his jaw drops as Patrick takes his soaked fingers into his mouth, gently cleaning them. 

"Thanks Steve, but I already have a numbers guy."