Wanting things he couldn't have and having things he didn't want seemed to be Patrick Drake's fatal flaw. He was a world class neurosurgeon. He had the arrogance and skill most doctors dreamed about on the first day of medical school when they opened up their massive copy of Gray's Anatomy, but most days he didn't give a damn.
It came easy. Too easy.
He had never had to work for anything he went after in life. Somehow it always ended up in his lap.
No matter how hard he tried to fuck it all up, he always managed to scrap by on the end of his rope without enough left to hang himself.
But her -
He wanted her 24 hours a day, 7 days a week without a moments reprieve. She was like oxygen, engulfing his lungs, making colors brighter and tastes sweeter.
She was the only thing he had ever encountered that hadn't been easy for him. She was damn hard. Hard to love, hard to hate, and everything in between.
And when she kissed him, her tongue gently seeking entrance into his mouth, the corners of her crimson lips turned up in amusement and pleasure, he knew that she would be forever trapped in his heart and his head, haunting his every waking and dreaming thought with that honey blonde hair and come-get-me blue eyes.
She was forever when he couldn't see past tomorrow.
He tried like hell to push her aside, exorcise her from his thoughts and his broken heart. And the tiny upstairs room at Jake's had witnessed most of it.
Taking Leyla Mir up against the door, her ebony locks tangled around his confident hands. Reaching his hands to cradle her angelic face, arrogant at the pure ecstasy on it, Elizabeth Webber had rode him after a long night of tequila and body shots. Emily Quartermaine and he had shared a few wild nights under the sheets, both trying to forget the one thing their hearts would always remember.
It was a never ending cycle of anger and sex, but it was a cycle Patrick knew well.
As did the object of Patrick's affections.
Carly Corinthos knew that game so well that some would say she invented it. It hurt her to watch him go down the same path she had traveled so many times, but she couldn't give him what he wanted from her.
But she couldn't let him go either.
She was just as taken with him, but she knew her place as Sonny's wife and Michael and Morgan's mother and Jason's best friend. They all needed her to be Martha Stewart, and she tried her damnedest to lie and cheat her way through each day.
But some days… it hurt more than most to deny her nature, be the perfect wife and mother.
Some days…she needed to feel him inside of her. Fuck the consequences.
Carly had never been known for her cautious nature, and Patrick Drake was the only thing keeping her from giving in and truly becoming the woman she pretended to be. Because of that, she latched onto him with everything she had when they were together and walked away without a second look when they were done.
And he let her, and she thanked God for that.
If he ever quit on her, Carly didn't know what she would do, who she would turn to for help. Patrick was what she needed to get a little fix of the old Carly.
Walking into his apartment, using the key that she kept, she tried to hide the anxiousness from her eyes. She'd missed him. It had been over a week since the last time their eyes met, and she found her herself thinking of him at the oddest moments, wishing for his presence instead of her husband's.
Sneaking out at 3 AM had been risky and damn near impossible, but Milo - sweet, lovable Milo - had easily been lied to once again about where she was going, and a part of her hated it and the other part of her - the Spencer part- got a thrill from the con.
The Spencer part won out, using the motto she was being forced to live by: Anything to feel alive.
Tip-toeing through his living room, she opened the door to his bedroom quickly, desperately seeking the relief she found in his touch.
"Patrick?"
He didn't hear her, of course. He was sleeping, his arm thrown over his eyes, his chiseled chest illuminated by the moonlight. He was gorgeous, and Carly felt the first tingles of arousal and anticipation flutter in her stomach.
Creeping over, she crawled up the bed, planting a chaste kiss on his chest. "Patrick?"
"Carly?" He groggily called out, his chocolate eyes fluttering open at the sound of his lover's silky voice.
"You got another blonde sneaking in here at 3 in the morning?" She asked, straddling him as he gazed up at her, heart in his eyes, hands on her hips. She bent, lips caressing his and feeling more like herself than she had in days.
"Just you. Only you."
He switched their positions, him on top, her on bottom. Patrick could feel her skin warming beneath his fingers, smiling at the electricity that sparked between them.
"Hi," Carly whispered.
"Hi." And just like all the times before, he kissed her. And in Carly's world, for now, everything was good again.