Prompt 31: "Oh God, I need a drink."

Summary: Patrick is having a hard time quitting smoking, despite keeping up appearances for Timothy. RATED M.

A/N: This didn't even start out smutty. I literally don't know how we got here.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

When he promised Timothy he would give up smoking, he never expected it to be this hard. He figured he would miss his cigarettes, but nothing prepared him for the insanity. That's what it was; he was going insane. Everything itched. His fingers wouldn't stop twitching, the feeling in his mouth made him want to crawl out of his skin, and worst of all, Shelagh was barely suffering.

Oh sure, she lamented giving up smoking, but at the end of the day, she wasn't the one lying awake at night because every nerve in her body was uncomfortable and tight. No, no. His wife was peacefully slumbering next to him while he tossed and turned and prayed for anything to quench the need on his tongue. He knew Shelagh was eating biscuits to cope and she wasn't completely unaffected, but still. She'd only been smoking a couple of times a day for the last three or so years. He'd been chain smoking for the last 30.

He was going to die. Or kill someone. Whichever came first, he really didn't care at this point.

"Oh God, I need a drink." he muttered to himself, throwing the covers off haphazardly. He was so consumed by his new goal that he didn't notice he'd thrown the covers so violently that they'd hit Shelagh in the face.

"Patrick, what?" she sleepily asked, removing the offending fabric from on top of her. "Is everything alright?"

"No, Shelagh, it's not. Just go back to sleep." he snapped.

"Patrick!" Shelagh cried crossly, now fully awake and less than amused. "What on earth is wrong?"

"Nothing you can't solve with biscuits, apparently!" he bit back, far harsher than he meant to. "I'm sorry." he sighed and sat down next to her on the bed. "You didn't deserve that, I'm truly sorry."

"You're forgiven." Shelagh replied earnestly. "Is it the smoking? Or, rather lack of it?"

"I feel as though I'm losing my mind." he admitted. "I promised Tim, and I meant it, but I didn't think it would be this hard."

"I sometimes feel as though I might go mad as well and I don't have it nearly as bad as you." Shelagh replied. He felt even more regret at snapping at her. "Is there anything I can do to help? Why did you want a drink?"

"I don't even know that I really did." he shrugged. "I suppose it wouldn't do any good to replace one vice with another. My mouth just feels so...itchy?"

Shelagh laughed softly and he smiled. She held her hands out over her lap in invitation and he gratefully lowered his head. She knew he would never tell anyone, but he loved laying in her lap when he was stressed. She would hum to him and run her fingers through his hair and it made him feel like there was nothing but peace in the world.

"I suppose what you're feeling is just a worse version of what I'm feeling." Shelagh remarked. "It's why I keep eating the biscuits - my mouth just wants to be occupied and I don't know what else to put in it."

Patrick chuckled against her thigh and she rolled her eyes.

"You're as mature as Timothy, Patrick."

He sat up, eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Oh, I think I'm far more mature, Shelagh. So much more, in fact, that I don't think a drink was what I needed after all." his voice lowered and Shelagh felt a familiar jolt in her stomach.

"What do you need?" she stammered.

"Something to satisfy my oral fixation, I should think." he spoke softly as he pulled the covers down to reveal her bare legs. "Any suggestions?"

"Perhaps." she barely whispered. He grinned happily. Despite her shyness, Shelagh wasn't often rendered speechless unless she was hopelessly aroused and eager.

He slid his hands painfully slowly up her legs, fingers exploring ever dip and curve along the way. He was desperate to taste her, but drawing it out and making her even more impatient was well worth the wait. It wasn't as though his mouth had to be idle on the way, after all. Her skin was so soft and he felt his frustrations slowly ebbing away as he traced his lips and tongue and teeth from her knees to her thighs.

"Patrick." she gasped as he nipped at her inner thigh, so close to where she wanted, but so far and still blocked by her panties.

"Patience, love." he murmured into her. The vibrations of his voice sent her reeling and she felt her pelvis push towards him. He only chuckled at her insistence. The desperation had certainly turned sides.

Deciding to give into her wishes (and his own impatience, really), he quickly removed her panties and pushed her nightgown up. He'd discovered recently that while he reveled in seeing her naked, there was something thrilling about making love while they weren't completely unclothed. It added a sense of debauchery in his mind that he couldn't explain; it was almost as though they were too desperate to finish undressing.

Shelagh had apparently decided he'd spent too much time staring and she nearly knocked him off balanced as she pulled him towards her center. He groaned as he felt his mouth meet her. She was soaked and scorching and yes, this was exactly what he wanted. So much better than a cigarette. His tongue licked the length of her up to her clit and then lapped gently, alternating pressure to driver her just up to the edge, but not push her over. He would never get tired of tasting her. He knew her so well, knew what every moan meant, knew exactly how hard to stroke and push, knew that if he rubbed his tongue in circles just there she would clench her thighs around his head, yes.

"Yes, yes, Patrick." she cried.

He smiled against her and redoubled his efforts. She tasted like home, he realized. That's what he wanted. He wanted the familiarity of taste and texture. He wanted to feel relaxed and safe. He couldn't have that in his cigarettes anymore, but by god, he could have it in his wife.

He slid two fingers eagerly inside of her, suddenly needing to see her fall apart. She keened at the feeling he felt lightheaded as she clenched around him. He swirled his tongue faster and faster over her until she finally arched her back off the bed and frantically clutched at his hair as she flew over the edge.

He gently kissed back down her legs as she calmed.

"So much better than a drink." he laughed. She glanced up at him, eyes glazed over from her orgasm.

"So much better than a cigarette." she countered lightly. "You know, eating this many biscuits is probably just as bad for me as smoking. I should really find another habit."

"Anything in mind?" he asked knowingly.

"I have a few thoughts." she whispered with a determined grin as she pushed him back onto the mattress.

Maybe giving up smoking wasn't so bad.

31 down, 19 to go! Woah, I've hit the teens. That's crazy! Hope you enjoy!