robinmoray

[robinmoray]

another ficlet

Wordcount: 750 Pairing: MM, Jack/Nate Content Tags: contemporary, backstory, toys, pining Rating: Explicit Summary: Sequel to this. Wanting is an agony when what you want is impossible. OR Jack wants Nate but he doesn't want Nate to know. A/N: For Anne (who knows what she did)

Circa 2001

Jack keeps his eyes closed because if he looks he knows he'll fall.

Nate's hands know Jack too well now, know exactly how to tease out of him the kinds of things Jack doesn't want anyone to know. The way he likes his dick handled. The sensitivity of his nipples. Exactly how to stretch him open so it doesn't hurt. Nate. It's only ever been Nate who could see past the layers of bravado to find Jack naked at his core.

So he tries not to look at Nate, tries not to show Nate more than he's already seen, in case Nate can read it in his eyes.

Maybe Nate understands. He has Jack now in his lap, sat between his thighs, Jack's back against Nate's chest. Nate's arms are around him, cradling him close. It's like being held, and yet it has a purpose so Jack can tolerate it. Nate has a 'silicone masturbator sleeve' according to the packaging. Jack was skeptical, but now...

"It's okay," Nate murmurs in his ear.

Jack shivers. It's fine. It's just Nate.

The silicone is soft and slick with lube. Nate pulls it over Jack's dick and it feels nothing like fucking the only girl he's ever fucked. Or the only guy he's ever fucked. It's alien, artificial, but it feels incredible. Too good. Jack tries not to buck up into it but Nate's hand is tight around him, and Jack's dick does not understand why Jack doesn't want to fuck into Nate's palm.

It's good but it's too good. Jack would almost rather Nate's bare skin.

Or his ass. God, the feel of him, hot and tight beneath him. Jack moans. He tries to swallow it but it comes out throaty and heartfelt anyway. Nate. Nate letting him in, Nate under him. Nate's mouth covering his, his tongue inside, and the sounds he might make as Jack fucked him. If he wanted it. If he liked it. If he would let Jack, just once, fuck him the way he wants to--he wants Nate bent over something, wants his hand on the back of Nate's neck, on the curve of Nate's hip. Wants to hold him in place and fuck into him hard, and wants to hear Nate begging for more: no, no, yes, yes, yes, Jack, please, fuck!

The fantasy is too good, Nate's grip on him through the silicone too tight. Jack grits his teeth against the words building on his tongue. Ah! Fuck, Nate, Nate, Nate...

"Yeah. Yeah, you like that?"

Nate's mouth is on his cheek, and Jack can smell his coffee-laced breath, with a hint of that caramel syrup he likes. It should be revolting but Jack wants it anyway.

"Fuck, Nate, yes!"

When he comes it's into Nate's hand, the sleeve between them but Nate who has dragged it from him. He comes so hard he feels like his heart might burst but no, it's just come spilling from him, not his heart's blood and all his secrets.

He can't help himself. He cranes his neck, reaching for Nate's mouth, pouring himself into it. Nate, Nate, Nate...

He wants. He can't have what he wants. All he can have is this, a slice of Nate between the lovers he does not bother to hide from Jack because they aren't anything, because this is nothing, because they fuck sometimes but that's all Jack means to him.

He wants more but he can't ask for it. So he'll give Nate something Nate wants, even if he doesn't want it for himself.

"You can fuck me, if you want."

That flash of pleasure in Nate's face. God, if only Jack knew how to keep him.

Nate grins. "Roll the fuck over, then."

Jack has to hide his face in the covers because he knows that if he looks, he will fall all the way down.

Nate runs a slick finger between Jack's cheeks, his hands too knowing. "Relax, baby," Nate says, and Jack hates him for how it makes his heart quiver.

If he falls, Nate will see it, and him knowing is worse than the fall itself. So.

"Just get on with it," Jack snaps.

Nate sighs. "Fine."

This is all it is, the tightrope walk of sex above this chasm. Jack refuses to look down. No matter how much he wants to jump, freefall, and crash. If Nate said...

But what Nate says is, "Brace yourself."

Jack does, eyes closed, because if he looks he knows he'll fall.

[robinmoray]

Limoges teacup and saucer

[robinmoray]

Naughty Advent, Day Twenty-Four (late)

Wordcount: 1000 Pairing: MM, Jack/Channon Content Tags: contemporary, established relationship, toys, safeword Rating: Mature Summary: Advent snippet, day twenty-four. Channon doesn't want to do this at this party, tonight.

"No," Channon says, "Sir please," and Jack sighs in his ear.

"I know you can, Channon. I believe in you."

It isn't a matter of believing it or not. He can, of course he can, Jack has him in both hands and is making him. Channon will do whatever Jack says and be grateful.

But for once Channon doesn't want to, and it sours everything.

Too many eyes on him, too many people snickering behind their hands. Maybe they're not laughing at him but he can feel them looking and he doesn't want it. This is Jack's kink, not his, and he's happy enough to do it, most of the time, but tonight--

Jack holds the stupid thing against Channon's cock, teasing him with it, and Channon writhes because they're doing it again and Jack still isn't going to let him come. It's one thing when Jack does this in the privacy of their bedroom but here? Now? With these people watching Channon wail and beg, he feels cold. Why? What's different?

The thing buzzes fitfully against him, and he grits his teeth. It's like being buzzed with a robot tongue, and maybe it would be okay under other circumstances, but now?

Jack won it--a weird little vibrating tongue-shaped stimulator--the fucking door prize to this stupid party, and then let them coax him into showing Channon off like a, a pet. And he is, he is definitely Jack's pet, but he doesn't want to be tonight. Not like this.

Someone says, "May I?" A man's voice, deep and subtly wrong, a big hairy hand reaching out to hover near Channon's exposed junk, and Channon snaps.

"Yellow," he gasps, clenching his fingers on Jack's thighs.

Jack stops at once, drawing the vibrating tongue-thing away. "Channon? Are you alright?"

Channon nods, his throat tight. God, what's wrong with him? It isn't even a big deal, just a bit of teasing and edging...on the sofa of a party surrounded by people he doesn't know at all, but it's just…

No.

"Yellow, as in you want a break? Or closer to red--stop right now?" Jack asks, his voice so calm. How can he be so calm?

Channon licks his lips. "Orange," he says, because red's too much. He's not in pain, he's not sick, he's not freaking out. He just wants to stop.

Jack turns off the tongue-thing, and then he has his arms wrapped around Channon and hoists him up. "Excuse me," he says to the people watching, and Channon tucks his face into Jack's shoulder so he doesn't have to look at any of them. Jack carries him bridal-style out of the room and into another where it's dim, and there's a bed, and Jack kicks the door closed before laying Channon down on the mattress. It happens so fast Channon barely has time to absorb it, but then Jack is stretched out beside him, stroking his flank, his thigh, his expression creased but not angry.

"What happened?"

"I just … didn't want to." It's hard to explain. Channon doesn't know how to say 'I was disgusted' without getting into why, so he says, "It felt wrong. In the bad way. I'm sorry, Sir."

"It's okay," Jack says, stroking him with firm, repetitive passes of his hand. "You did the right thing. You wanted it to stop."Jack smiles a little, reaching up to cup Channon's jaw. "You don't like exhibitionism."

"It's not that. It was just…I don't know anyone here , and that guy, just asking if he  could…I didn't like it."

"I wasn't going to let him touch you," Jack reassures him.

But. "I didn't know that, though," Channon says, feeling silly now that his heart has slowed. "I just didn't want it."

"You did the right thing," Jack tells him again, catching his hand and pulling it up to kiss his knuckles. "You put up with it all the way past yellow to orange, which you didn't have to do. And then you stopped it." He frowns. "I should have checked in sooner."

Channon shakes his head and burrows into Jack's shoulder. "Normally it's okay, Sir. Just not tonight. I didn't want to get buzzed off by a robot tongue in front of strangers tonight."

Jack snorts, a laugh caught in the back of his mouth. "Was it the robot tongue or the in-front-of-strangers part you objected to?"

"Mostly the strangers," Channon admits. Okay, now he feels like he overreacted. "I'm sorry I ruined the party."

"You didn't ruin a goddamn thing," Jack tells him, firm and no-nonsense. He tucks Channon under his chin , wrapping him up close. "I don't give a fuck about any of them. It's only fun if it's fun for you too."

"That's...not true," Channon says slowly, not liking to contradict his Sir. "You like it when I'm not having any fun at all."

"Only if you're not having any fun in a fun way. If you hate something, and it's not fun to hate it, I don't want to do it to you."

Channon hums, liking the sound of that. "What about punishment?"

Jack chuckles. "As if you ever need punishment," he teases. "You're too perfect for that."

It feels good. Jack's praise always does, but right now Channon needs it, and there Jack is, making sure he gets it. He's perfect, the perfect Sir.

"So, to clarify," Jack asks, far too casually, "it was the exhibitionism you hated, not the toy."

"It was tonight, in front of them," Channon tells him. "I don't care about the tongue thing."

"And as long as it's not in front of people," Jack says, drawing the toy out of his jacket pocket and holding it up. "Would you want to finish what we started?"

Jack had edged him for twenty minutes--of course Channon wants to finish what he'd started. "In here, I'd do whatever you wanted, Sir," he says, knowing Jack will understand what that means.

Jack grins, and kisses the tip of Channon's nose. "Good to know," he says, and flicks the toy on.

[robinmoray]

Naughty Advent, Day Twenty-three

Wordcount: 850 Pairing: MM, Nate/Jack Content Tags: contemporary, pining, toys Rating: Explicit Summary: Advent snippet, day twenty-three. Nate gives Jack what he wants.

Circa 2001

Nate kisses the back of Jack's neck. "Okay?" he murmurs.

"Fine," Jack breathes, huffing it out in a rush. He leans back against his palms, squeezing Nate's thighs. "Go on. You wanted to so much, I--"

Nate pulls the slick opening of the thing over the head of Jack's cock, and Jack leans his head back into Nate's shoulder, obviously trying not to buck up.

It must feel good. Nate has used things like this before--has used one of these things before--and it feels...good. Soft. Intimately textured. Slick, because Nate has slicked it up with lube, slicked Jack with lube, wants him to like it.

He settles back against the head of the bed with Jack sat between his thighs, and slips the sleeve over Jack's cock. Jack groans and pushes up into it, and Nate knows he likes it, knows how Jack likes to sheath himself in things.

Things like Nate. And sure, Nate doesn't hate it, but he does hate the fact that Jack only really wants things one way.

Sure, he'll offer up his ass now and then, gritting his teeth like it's a chore, and the first couple of times Nate had enjoyed seeing Jack so reluctantly submissive, letting Nate have him in the way he usually wanted Nate. But lately it's become … irritating. Because Nate doesn't really like to bottom either, only sometimes, and he'd like it a lot more if Jack wasn't always such a consummate dick about it.

But Jack is a dick. Jack is a colossal dick, and Nate loves him anyway, but it's unhealthy for Jack to get what he wants, all of the time.

So here they are. Nate squeezes his arms around Jack's ribs, and kisses him under the ear again, sliding the sleeve over him, squeezing him in it to hear him groan. God, the sounds Jack makes. Nate has never been with anyone else so vocal about sex, someone who gasps out his orgasms with the same fervour. He's been with a bunch of other guys, but there's something about Jack that keeps dragging him back, over and over again, keeps him hanging on to whatever this is they have going on that isn't what Nate wants.

If Jack would date him, maybe. But Jack keeps pretending that this thing they're doing is just 'two friends helping each other out', and Nate keeps sleeping around because Jack won't date him, which drives Jack crazy. He knows that. He'd stop, any time. If only Jack would say.

But he won't, and so. He jerks Jack off in the sleeve, watches Jack's hips stutter up, watches his face in profile, his mouth wrenched in a beautiful kind of agony.

Sometimes, Nate wants to hurt him. It's a terrible thing to admit to himself, because more than that he wants to see Jack strung out on lust, see him lose his goddamn mind. He wants to fuck into Jack in the soft golden light of dawn, wants to finger him open before he's awake and slide into him as he protests he's not actually into it. But. More than that he wants Jack to be into it, wants those protests to be false, wants Jack to slip from protests to needy begging, wants to fuck him while Jack sobs at him not to stop.

"Ah! Fuck, Nate!"

Jack turns his face into Nate's neck, his mouth open. His chest is heaving now, he's sucking in air like a bellows, rocking up into Nate's hand and the soft silicone sleeve in Nate's palm.

"Yeah. Yeah, you like that?"

Nate kisses Jack's cheek, inhaling the rich spicy scent of his bodywash. God, he's so clean. Nate wants to lick him all over, but Jack doesn't like it, gets weird about it too quickly, so Nate feels weird about asking.

Jack bucks, his fingers digging into Nate's thighs, and Nate thinks, Fuck, if only.

"Fuck, Nate, yes!"

He comes, pumping out into the sleeve until it overflows, pearls of come spilling out the opening at the end. Nate jerks him a few more times, to get the last of it, and pulls the sleeve off him with a sucking pop that sounds deeply obscene in their shitty little apartment.

Jack collapses, gasping out nothing into the air. He tilts his chin up, seeking Nate's mouth, and Nate gives it to him because…

Because he loves Jack. Because, if Jack would just let him in, Nate would do anything to be with him. Because Jack Nash is the best and worst thing to ever happen to him, so wonderful and so awful and so fucking untouchable.

Jack pulls back to blink up at Nate, his eyes so dark now they're almost black. "You can fuck me, if you want."

Nate is many things, but he isn't stupid. "Roll the fuck over, then," he says, dropping the sleeve on the bed.

Jack does, pressing his face to the covers and offering himself up like a sacrifice.

Nate reaches for the lube. This is okay. Maybe soon things will change. But for now? This is good enough.

[robinmoray]

Naughty Advent, Day Twenty-Two

Wordcount: 730 Pairing: MM, Channon & Ewan Content Tags: contemporary, friendship Rating: Mature Summary: Advent snippet, day twenty-two. Channon helps Ewan out.

"I need your help."

Channon has to close his mouth. Ewan's asking him for help? Wait. "Is this a Nate thing?" Because that makes sense. Nate gets off on ordering Ewan to beg Channon for stuff, and Ewan gets off on being ordered.

As for Channon? He doesn't mind, so long as Jack doesn't mind.

But this time Ewan shakes his head, and he's pink with embarrassment. "I just need you to help me move a mattress."

Channon can't help it; he giggles. Just a bit, and it's a manly giggle. "Jack said something like that to me once."

Ewan arches his eyebrows, inviting him to continue.

"Right before he talked me into sucking him off the first time."

The eyebrows come down again. "Oh." He wrinkles his nose. "It's not like that, just help me move the bloody thing!"

Because Channon's a good friend, he does, and he drives Ewan home as well. He follows Ewan up to the apartment that is technically Channon's, and into the room that he doesn't ever want to live in, and helps Ewan take the mattress off the bed.

"Where are we going with it?" he asks when it's stood up on its side.

"Just against the wall."

"What? Why?"

Ewan doesn't answer. He grabs something from a drawer and starts laying it out on the bed frame. It's a mess of straps, some brass connectors, and he lays it out in an X with loops in each corner of the frame.

Then he stands up. "Come on," he says, not looking Chanon in the eye.

They move the mattress back, and Channon sits on it while Ewan fusses with the straps, yanking them into place and tugging on them as if testing the hold.

Channon eyes him thoughtfully. He's being so weird. That probably means this is about having feelings. "Is it for bondage?"

Ewan shrugs. "Aye."

"Did Nate make you?"

Ewan makes a disgusted sound. "Fuck, no."

"But it's for him, right? So he can cuff you to it and do stuff."

"'Do stuff.'" Ewan flashes him a vile look. "You sound like a fucking nine year old."

Channon ignores that, leaning back on his palms. "So he can fuck you and you can't do anything about it. That's why you're doing it." He grins, enjoying the look on Ewan's face. "You like him."

"What clued you in, Sherlock?" Ewan snarls, tossing a pillow in Channon's face.

"I mean, you like like him. You want to do things for him. Please him."

Ewan's expression is an admission of guilt. "What do you fucking care?"

"It's so subby."

"It's not!"

Channon hooks an ankle around Ewan's knee and yanks him off balance. "It really is," he says, and then Ewan tries to pin him to the bed, and everything gets a little grabby from there.

In the end, though, Channon's bigger and stronger and has more practice at this, so Ewan ends up face-down on the mattress with Channon sprawled across his back.

"It's okay that you like him," Channon says, wrapping his arms around Ewan's chest. "He makes you happy, so."

Ewan breathes out, a long exhale of frustration. "Fine! I fucking like him."

"You love him," Channon insists, and Ewan twists around to bite his bicep. "Ow! Okay, fuck, I'll stop."

They lie like that for a minute, not speaking, not quite cuddling. Channon wonders if Ewan will always be like this, always so difficult, making things harder than they have any need to be.

Channon still likes him, though. Does Ewan know that? He must. Surely.

"I like you," Channon says.

Ewan glances sidelong at him. "You what?"

"I like you. A lot."

"Are you fucking proposing to me?" Ewan demands, sounding upset for some reason.

"Not like that. I mean...you know. Like a brother."

"A brother you fuck sometimes."

Channon grins. "I guess, if you wanna make it weird."

"It is weird," Ewan says, struggling around to climb on top of him. "You're weird. This whole conversation is daft as fuck!"

"Okay. I still like you though, even if you won't say it back."

Ewan stares at him. Then he frowns. "I do. Like you. You great eejit." Then his mouth curls into a smirk. "Even when you're an emotionally needy little bastard."

Channon grins. "But you still like me," he says, and tips Ewan off the bed.

[robinmoray]

Naughty Advent, Day Twenty-One

Wordcount: 660 Pairing: MM, Jack/Channon Content Tags: contemporary, established relationship, toys, double-penetration Rating: Explicit Summary: Advent snippet, day twenty-one. Jack gives Channon something Channon has been fantasising about.

Channon whimpers, turning his face away so Jack can't see his expression. Can't have that.

"Look at me, Channon," Jack says, coaxing him gently. Channon huffs out a breath and turns his face obediently to Jack's, his eyes coming reluctantly up, his lashes damp. There's color in his cheeks, sweat on his skin, and Jack kisses his red-bitten lip, leans his brow against Channon's wet temple, and says, "It's okay. You can do it."

Channon makes a sound of protest, but he doesn't argue. He simply allows Jack to do with him as he wishes, as always.

Which is a little unfair, really, since this had been Channon's idea.

Well, the inspiration had originated with Channon, anyway. Jack still reads his fantasy journal, still checks in to find out what his boy has been thinking. This time, Channon had obviously been watching porn, and seen something that stayed with him: They put the sub on his knees and took turns. I remembered how it felt having one cock in me and then another but then they stuffed both into him at once and I wondered how that would feel.

Jack had seen the blush in Channon's cheeks when he was made to read that aloud, and he'd known.

Jack has only the one flesh-and-blood cock, of course, and no current access to a second one, so an artificial one would have to do. It's an advantage in some ways. This cock is average length, about four and a half inches, and a little thicker than Jack's thumb, not too much more for Channon to take.

Still, it's more, and Channon is unused to it. Jack has him slick with lube, sat in Jack's lap, already skewered on Jack's cock. They're face-to-face. Channon bites his lip, watching Jack with his beautiful black-lashed eyes.

There's so much trust in him. That he allows Jack to do this, that he permits Jack to take charge of his body so completely is the most wonderful thing in the world. To have Channon's trust is precious, and Jack will never, ever abuse it.

"Come up for me," Jack says, and Channon does, sliding on Jack's cock. Jack guides him with one hand, until Channon is hovering, empty. He pushes the dildo into him, just a few inches, and it's smaller than Jack's dick so Channon still has room for more. "Okay, sweetheart. Come on."

He guides himself back into Channon's body, giving him time to adjust, and watches Channon's expression pinch. He makes a hurt sound, and Jack stops him. "Sweetheart?"

"It's a lot," Channon says, his voice gone thin.

"Take your time."

Jack kisses his mouth and Channon whimpers against his lip. And then he sinks a little more, and a little more, and Jack pushes the fake dick in alongside his real one, and finally, finally Channon is shuddering in his lap, stuffed full and breathing hard.

His body feels so good, so tight. Hot. Jack's.

When he's ordered to, Channon moves, working himself up Jack's length, rocking onto him. Jack fucks him twice over--once with his own cock and once with another--and it takes Channon to pieces. The stretch. The trust. All of it, beautiful, precious, and his.

"Sir," Channon groans, hips quivering, breath hot and ragged in Jack's face. "Sir, I can't, I'll… Sir!"

"Go on," Jack says, and he watches as Channon comes apart.

Beautiful.

When Channon has wrung himself out, Jack discards the fake cock on the floor, rolls Channon onto his back, and finishes inside him. He's soft now, weak and easy, and Jack loves that too, loves him, and tells him so just before he spills over.

Channon smiles, breathless on the rumpled sheets. "Love you too, Sir," he says, so warm it makes Jack's chest ache.

All that trust. His to protect.

And play with, of course.

"Next time," Jack says, his voice shaking, "we're going to need a bigger dildo."

Channon just closes his eyes, and laughs.

[robinmoray]

Naughty Advent, Day Twenty

Wordcount: 800 Pairing: MM, Jack/Channon Content Tags: contemporary, established relationship, domesticity Rating: Mature Summary: Advent snippet, day twenty. Jack and Channon enjoy some quiet couple time.

Channon runs the massager down Jack's back, digging it in where it's needed. Jack groans, this wonderful heartfelt groan that makes Channon feel tingly and good. Jack is sitting on the rug in front of the sofa, and Channon has him all to himself. It's perfect, the light coming in just right, lighting his man in copper and gold. Jack is shirtless, beautiful, and all Channon's to work over as he likes.

Or as Jack likes. Because this is for Jack, of course.

"I like it better when it's your hands, but my shoulders are killing me," Jack sighs, reaching back to tuck his fingers around Channon's ankle and squeeze. "Sometimes they need a little help."

"I'm happy to do it," Channon tells him, basking in Jack's appreciation. The massager is four-pronged, with fat bulbs on the end of each leg. It looks a bit like toy dog, but minus the head, and unlike the many other massagers Jack has tucked away in the playroom, this one doesn't vibrate. An actual massager, rather than an in-quotation-marks 'massager'.

Jack's skin is red where Channon has already ground the plastic into him, olive everywhere else. Channon longs to run his hands over Jack's skin, his tongue too, but he has to focus. This is therapeutic, and not in the usual way. Jack had been rubbing his shoulder and Channon had offered, and now here they are, Jack melting at his feet, present and appreciative and beautiful.

It's good to have all of Jack's attention, good to do nice things for him. Channon treasures this time, out of bed and off his knees. It's special in a way he can't articulate. He knows Jack loves him, knows Jack wants him, but at times like this he feels useful, and that's a whole different deal.

Jack groans again, and Channon lays a hand on Jack's shoulder, pressing down on it while he works the massager on the other side.

"Fuck, yeah," Jack breathes. And then-- "Ow! A little less, maybe."

Contrition flares up in Channon's throat. "I'm sorry, Sir," he says, already easing off, but Jack presses his thumb into Channon's ankle.

"It's fine. You're doing great. Don't go easy on me now, I need it hard."

The giggle in Channon's throat threatens to bubble out of him-- I need it hard. Really? Jack can't say something like that and not expect Channon to grin over it.

"You don't want me to be gentle with you, Sir?"

"Not even a little."

"You said you don't get massages that often," Channon says in his best approximation of innocence. "Maybe you're not ready to take it from me hard."

His Sir laughs, this rough, dirty chuckle. "You think I can't take it? I can take it harder than you could possibly give it to me."

"Are you sure, Sir?"

"Give me your best."

Channon presses down, not as hard as he can because he really doesn't want to actually hurt Jack, but Jack's grip on his ankle tightens.

"A little lower. Harder than that."

He can't disobey, so he does as he's told, and Jack lets out this animal sound that makes Channon's dick leap in his shorts.

And then Jack has twisted around and caught Channon's wrist in his palm, holding him firmly in place. His eyes are dark, almost black, and his mouth is savage.

"Fuck," he breathes, his eyes raking over Channon as if he's naked instead of modestly dressed in shorts and a gym shirt. "I'm pretty sure that's not supposed to make me this horny."

The words do something to him, blooming warm in his gut. "Everything makes you horny, Sir," he says, his pulse fluttering in his throat.

Jack grins, his teeth white against his lip. "You make me horny," he says, and then he lunges for Channon's mouth, pushing him back into the sofa. Channon whimpers against Jack's lips, and wraps his legs around Jack's waist. He hadn't expect things to get dirty tonight, but he's definitely not unhappy about it.

Jack kisses him messily, licking into his mouth. He covers Channon with his body, his weight so welcome Channon doesn't mind even a bit that Jack's basically crushing him. He squeezes Jack with his thighs, and then goes limp, pliant, letting Jack have whatever he wants.

Eventually, Jack leans back far enough to murmur to him, "Thanks for the massage." He bites Channon's throat, nipping him sharply. "I think I'm done now."

"Is there, ah! Anything else I can do for you, Sir?" Channon gasps under the firm pressure of Jack's teeth.

"I think there might be," Jack says, already tugging at Channon's shorts.

It's Thursday, eight-ish pm, a typical night, and really? There's nowhere else in the world Channon would rather be than right here, right now, every night of his life.

[robinmoray]

Naughty Advent, Day Nineteen

Wordcount: 770 Pairing: MM, Jack/Channon, Channon & Ben Content Tags: contemporary, established relationship, toys (talking about them) Rating: Mature Summary: Advent snippet, day nineteen. Ben wants some advice.

The picture is of… he's not sure. It's like two black balls, sort of joined together, hanging off some kind of cord. There's no context for it, nothing for size. Channon squints at it for a good thirty seconds before doing a reverse image search.

Then he hits call.

"What the hell, man?"

"Hey! Chan-man! How you doing?"

"Why are you sending me pictures of kegel balls?"

Ben's laugh sounds like he's standing in a tunnel. "Oh, you got that? It's our anniversary!"

Channon scrubs a hand over his eyes. "What do you even mean?"

"I mean it's our three year anniversary. Me and Stacey. I figured I should get her something special."

"I don't-- wait, you're getting her kegel balls?"

"Yeah! What do you think?"

Oh, for the love of God. Channon slumps down on the sofa, letting his head roll back against the cushions. "I think she's going to kick you in the nuts, dude. You're basically saying...I mean, I think you're implying she needs to do more kegels. That's kinda … whoa."

Ben makes a disappointed noise. "Fuck. Okay, what else do girls like?"

"The hell should I know?" Channon squeezes his eyes shut. "Do you remember the whole gay thing? We talked about that."

"Yeah, but Kim said--"

Channon sits up. "Kim said?"

"That you know stuff about … stuff."

"About sex toys?" Channon hears his own voice go up half an octave, and winces. Why would Kim say that? Why would she say that to Ben?

"Yeah. I asked her for advice and she said you were the man."

"Dude, she just wanted to get rid of you. I am not the man."

"She said," Ben goes on blithely, "that you got her an awesome vibrator."

"I just made a suggestion--"

"And some...sex gun."

"Bullet," Channon corrects him miserably. "No. I don't know anything about vaginas, I swear. I've never even touched a vagina. I--"

He breaks off at the pressure of a hand on his shoulder, and tilts his head back to look up into the downturn of Jack's face. Jack is smirking, as if this is all very entertaining for him.

Channon holds the phone to his chest. "Ben wants me to tell him what to get his girlfriend for their three year anniversary. I said no to kegel balls."

Jack's smirk breaks into a grin. He gestures for the phone.

Oh, shit. "Uh, Ben? I'm going to hand you to Jack."

"Jack who?"

"Jack my boyfriend."

"Dude, I don't think your twink boyfriend--"

But that's when Jack takes the phone from him, holding it up to his ear as he leans on the back of the sofa.

"Hi, Ben. This is Jack Nash. Nice to finally speak to you. Yeah, he has mentioned you. I understand you're working for your father? Right. And your girlfriend's name is… right. So, what's your budget for a present? Does that include dinner or extras? Okay." He winks at Channon, tugging Channon's tablet across the sofa and unlocking it, tapping something into the search bar. "What's her favourite thing in the world?" He snorts, rolling his eyes. "Apart from that. Okay. Hmm. Tell you what, there's a Disney on Ice show down your way in a month, I'll book you tickets. Sure, but how much do you want to get laid? I thought so. No, it's fine. Well, I have an ulterior motive--I want you to say nice things about me to Channon's mom. Yeah, it's definitely a bribe." He laughs. "Get Stacey flowers and take her somewhere nice for dinner. Wear a tie. Okay? Bye, Ben."

He hands the phone back to Channon, and kisses him on the head, before wandering back into his office with Channon's tablet.

"Hello?" Channon says, not sure exactly what just happened.

"Dude, your boyfriend is not a twink," Ben breathes.

"I told you that!"

"Yeah, but I didn't believe you." He pauses. "Is he really buying tickets to Disney on Ice for me?"

"I mean, yeah. It's the sort of thing he does."

"Why?"

"Because he wants you to say nice things about him to my mom," Channon says, grinning. "And probably so you stop asking me about sex toys for girls. Because I'm gay now and I have no idea what girls like."

"Yeah, whatever. Thanks, dude, talk to you later!"

He hangs up. Channon flops on his back, huffing out a breath. Well, at least Ben's happy.

He looks up through the open door to where Jack is standing in the middle of his office, tapping away at Channon's tablet.

Channon smiles. Yeah, he's pretty damn happy himself.

[robinmoray]

[robinmoray]

Naughty Advent, Day Eighteen

Wordcount: 1080 Pairing: MM, Nate/Ewan Content Tags: contemporary, established relationship, bondage, toys Rating: Mature Summary: Advent snippet, day eighteen. Nate makes Ewan hold still for one fucking moment.

Ewan growls and tries to roll away. Nate grabs him when he's on his belly, twisting one of his wrists up behind his back. Ewan yanks his wrist away--or tries. Nate has him in a vice-like grip, and then his other hand, and there's a familiar schrick as the velcro goes on. Struggling against it is instinctive and useless, and then there's a snap as Nate fastens the two wrist cuffs together in back.

Ewan howls. "Get the fuck off me! Let me go!"

"Are you going to hold still if I do?"

He's trapped. On his belly, face pressed into the covers, every limb cuffed and clipped to the four-way connector Nate keeps in a drawer beside the bed. Hogtied. Ewan growls and tries to hump his way to the edge of the bed, though he doesn't know yet what he'll do when he gets there--flop onto his face on the floor, most likely--but his temper is up and he's too stubborn to give over now.

Nate sighs and slips off the bed onto his knees, catching Ewan's shoulder in one broad, deceptively slim-fingered hand. Typists hands, Ewan always thinks, but they're so strong, and now Nate has him exactly where he wants him.

"Slow down, baby," Nate says, kneeling up to peer into Ewan's face. He locks a hand in Ewan's hair, yanking his head back so Ewan has to look at him. "I just wanna talk to you, for christ's sake."

"I don't want to talk," Ewan snaps. He's trapped but that doesn't mean he has to give in. "I want to fuck." And, because he can't help himself, he says, "You've got me where you want me. Aren't you going to fuck me?"

"If you're good," Nate says, too calm to be real. His fingers loosen, smoothing through Ewan's hair almost tenderly. Why is he like this? Why can't he be the Nate who fucks first and asks questions later, instead of the Nate who needs to talk endlessly about things? "Are you going to be good for me?"

"Fuck. You."

Nate chuckles. "Like I said, if you're good. Good boys get fucked. Bad boys? Have to answer some questions first."

It's infuriating. But Ewan has very little choice right now. He huffs, his chin hanging over the edge of the mattress, and fixes Nate with a look that would set him on fire if there was any justice in the world. "What? Go on, ask your bloody questions."

"Do you want me to tell people at work," Nate says, as if this is a normal thing to do, "that we're together?"

"Why?" Ewan can't help it; the word spits out of his mouth like a curse. "What good does it do?"

"It's better than lying about it. And I think HR wants to know. I really should tell them," he adds, looking pensive.

Ewan eyes him suspiciously. He sounds ... he sounds sad. Ewan grits his teeth against how that makes him feel; he doesn't care if Nate is sad, he doesn't. Except he does, and it hurts his gut if he thinks about it too hard.

"Plus, I'd like to take you to the dev lunch this Friday, and I think the team deserves to know about us before it ends up on twitter."

"What do they care? They don't give a fuck about me."

Nate ruffles his hair, smiling a little. "They care a bit about me, or I hope they do. I've been trying to make them care about you, too, but that's tricky when you're allergic to social interaction."

"I'm not! They're just co-workers, I hate them. They hated me first," he adds, feeling justified in this.

"I'd like it if they didn't, or at least if you didn't make it so easy for them." Now Nate looks sad, and Ewan hates that so much it burns. "I'd prefer it if you had an okay time at work, instead of a bad time."

"You just want me to have friends," Ewan snarls, and instead of taking it like the hit it's supposed to be, Nate nods, his mouth turning down.

"I do want that."

"I have friends."

"Sadie and Channon aren't enough," Nate says, sounding so reasonable Ewan wants to bite him.

"I've got you," he snarls, and the heat that floods his face has no right to be there.

Nate looks at him, and there's something in his eyes-- "I don't think we're really friends," he says quietly.

It's ridiculous. Ewan is naked on Nate's bed, hogtied naked and arguing with him about work. "You're my fucking boyfriend," he snaps, writhing against the cuffs. "If you're not my friend then I don't know what the fuck that means."

It's silent in the bedroom. Ewan realises Nate's expression has gone soft, his eyes wide and that familiar yet shocking blue, and he realises what he's said, what he has maybe never said out loud before.

Should he take it back? He doesn't want to, and anyway Nate doesn't give him much of a chance.

"If you're my boyfriend then you should come with me to the lunch on Friday."

Ewan gives up, flopping limp on the bed. "Fine," he mutters.

"Yeah?" Nate sounds too thrilled for a man who just argued himself into a lunch date by force. "And you don't care if people know you're my boyfriend?"

"If I say okay, then does that mean I've been good?" Ewan demands, refusing to look Nate in the eye.

Nate chuckles and kisses his hair. "I think it does."

"Then okay, I'll go to the thing. Tell the team and HR whatever you want."

The hand stroking his hair goes tight, pulling his head back again. Nate rises to his feet, his other hand already thumbing open the buttons of his jeans. "Good boy," he breathes, his voice rich with pleased pride.

"Good boys get fucked, right?" Ewan asks, watching that hand.

Nate grins, so bright it's blinding. "Good boys open their mouths and get what they're given."

He's impossible.

But, Ewan does open his mouth, and what Nate gives him is exactly what he wanted.

[robinmoray]

Naughty Advent, Day Seventeen

Wordcount: 760 Pairing: MM, Jack/Channon Content Tags: contemporary, established relationship, dressing up, lingerie Rating: Mature Summary: Advent snippet, day seventeen. Jack loves it when Channon shows how he feels.

“Hey, sweetheart. Did you have fun with Kim?” Jack asks. The kettle is on the boil, and he has a couple of cups out in anticipation of Channon’s return. Perhaps another Dom would make their sub brew the tea, while watching indolently, but Jack enjoys taking care of his boy. Especially when he’s a good boy, which Channon always is.

“It was embarrassing,” Channon says, and Jack can hear the pout in his voice. “She’s so fussy. And vanilla.”

Jack smiles. “Nothing wrong with vanilla.”

The weight of Channon’s body settles against his spine, his arms snaking around Jack’s ribs. Jack pats Channon’s wrist, leaning back into him. Once upon a time Channon had been too shy to take the liberty of cuddling up to him whenever he wanted–now he’s learned when it’s welcome and when it’s inappropriate, and takes advantage of his opportunities.

“Did you take her to lunch?”

“She took me to lunch.”

“Oh?”

“I cut her a deal.”

“Oh?” Jack taps his fingers on Channon’s wrist, intrigued. “What kind of deal?”

“She wanted to hit up some shops, and I wanted a steak. I got the salad, no dessert,” he adds. Jack squeezes his arm. “And I got a present for you, Sir.”

“Yeah?” Jack twists around, pulling Channon between his thighs. “From the toy store?”

“No.” Channon’s cheeks are pink, his mouth turned up in a coy smile. Jack resists the urge to kiss the tip of his nose. “Do you want it, Sir?”

“Very, very much.”

Channon beams and peels away. He comes back with a small, pink bag, the kind that usually contains jewellery or high-quality chocolate. He presents it with both hands, eyeing Jack through the inky shadow of his lashes, and looks so cheeky Jack hesitates.

Just for a moment. Whatever is in the bag, there are only so many ways this can go. Either Jack will like it, because it’s sweet and thoughtful, or it will turn out to be a joke, and then he can either play along or ‘punish’ Channon for it.

But more likely, he’ll find himself charmed. Channon’s gifts have that effect, like his soft, adoring smiles. And when he looks inside the bag Jack can’t help the bubble of laughter that pops out of him.

Laughter is dangerous. Channon is not to be mocked–Jack will not crush his self-esteem, not ever. So he takes care to smile and cup Channon’s cheek in his palm. “Oh, sweetheart. Did you want me to unwrap you?”

“They’re not for me,” Channon says, and he bites his lip.

Ah. They’re for Jack.

He takes them out, discarding the bag on the counter. Now that he looks it seems clear they could not be for Channon. They’re black. Sheer, certainly, but not delicate–subtly masculine despite the bow at the crotch that holds together a split peek-a-boo opening, and Jack knows how much Channon loves getting his mouth on him.

“I should try them on,” Jack says.

Channon nods, and then, hesitantly– “Can I help, Sir?”

“Of course.”

He holds out his arms, inviting Channon in, and Channon’s hands are reverent as they peel off his t-shirt, unbutton his jeans. He strips Jack to his skin right there in the kitchen, and pulls the black mesh thong up Jack’s thighs, tucking him into it carefully and adjusting the bow until it sits just right. Jack leans back against the counter, watching him on his knees, and when he’s done Jack catches the back of his skull to hold him in place.

“What do you think?”

Channon looks up. He licks his lip. Then his gaze flickers to Jack’s, his eyes catching the light. God, he’s the most beautiful thing Jack’s ever seen and the way he looks at Jack makes it hard for him to breathe.

“I think I’d like to unwrap you, Sir.”

It shouldn’t be so exciting. Jack had once thought Channon was almost too submissive, but he’s been developing this streak lately that Jack doesn’t actually hate. Not demanding. Honest, perhaps, about his wants. Whatever it is, Jack likes it when Channon looks at him like that.

“Go on, then,” Jack says, settling against the counter.

Channon’s smile is sweet, his hands warm and gentle as they come up to tease open the ribbon. “Thank-you, Sir,” he says. “I knew you’d like it.”

It’s you I like, Jack thinks, stroking his boy’s hair back from his brow. Then Channon parts the fabric with his thumbs, his tongue coming out hot and wet, and Jack finds it hard to think of anything else at all.

[robinmoray]

Naughty Advent, Day Sixteen

Wordcount: 980 Pairing: MM, Nate/Ewan Content Tags: contemporary, established relationship, dressing up Rating: Mature Summary: Advent snippet, day sixteen. Nate can't hide his obsession.

The stars are about 3 inches in diameter, and have the texture of duck tape. They're also gold, and stuck squarely over each of Ewan's nipples, as if he has anything to hide.

The second he sees them Nate can't help touching them.

"Get off," Ewan says, but he sounds more pleased than mad.

It's strange how the pasties make him look more naked, as if by hiding his usually PG nipples he's rendered them R rated. Nate traces a finger over the edge of one firmly stuck point and imagines ripping them off. "I don't get what you're supposed to be."

"Carnivale angel," Ewan says, and sure enough, the outfit comes with a pair of glittery, white and gold wings, which Ewan keeps catching on things. Between the gold-sequined shorts and glitter-glued roman sandals he looks a lot more Carnivale than angel, and he makes it worse by dusting shimmer powder over his cheeks, down the ridges of his belly.

"Where's your costume?" he asks, eyeing Nate critically.

"I'm wearing it," Nate tells him. "I'm going as me."

"I said you had to wear something sexy," Ewan snaps, but his mouth is turning up in a grin.

"You said I looked sexy in anything."

"That was flirting. I was trying to get in your pants.This is different." He starts unbuttoning Nate's shirt. "It's political. Boys get sexy outfits, girls wear proper ones. Sadie's done it every year since she tried to find a paramedic costume that fit her and couldn't get anything except 'sexy paramedic'. It's feminist."

"It sounds like Sadie wanted an excuse to dress men in skimpy shorts," Nate says, letting Ewan take his shirt off.

"I mean, yeah. But also politics."

Ewan hands him a crop-top that barely stretches over his shoulders. It has a bright yellow bat-symbol on the chest. Something about it is obscene, as if Nate is far less dessed than he looks. Ewan makes him wear leather pants, which is more familiar, and a domino mask with pointy cat ears.

"That doesn't even make sense," Nate says, stroking one of Ewan's taped-down nipples. "Am I Batman or Catman?"

"It doesn't matter, it's ironic," Ewan tells him, squirming under his hand. "Stop it, you'll make it fall off."

They're like magnets, those pasties. His hands keep wandering back to them, worrying at the edges. Ewan bats him away absently, but Nate can't help it. He should stop, he knows. Plus this isn't the club, it's the kitchen of Sadie's apartment surrounded by Ewan's painfully hipster friends, a space in which Nate feels old and outcast, deemed irrelevant by everything from the music to the jokes, to the currently raging debate over what constitutes a slur.

Ewan cruises through it like a social glitterbomb, ignoring people he dislikes so hard they practically cease to exist. Nate trails behind him, increasingly aroused by the cut of his shorts, the swell of his ass cheeks peeking out below the hem, and the forbidden territory beneath those fucking pasties.

He corners Ewan in the bathroom. "You look so fuckable."

Ewan grins, slithering up onto the sink. "You look like a randy old goat."

"You dressed me like this," Nate says, ducking his head to nip at Ewan's chest.

"God, you're not going to stop until you get one of those, are you?" Ewan pushes himself up on his palms, pouting beautifully. "Go on, then. You can have one."

"What are your friends going to think?"

"That I let you fuck me in the bathroom. Come on, get on with it!"

Nate slides his tongue over the edge of the the tape. It comes up under his teeth, the edge teasing back as he gets a grip on it, and he slowly, slowly peels it away. Ewan's chest heaves under him, his breath hitching, and Nate tears the thing loose with his teeth, spitting it into the sink.

"Fuck," Ewan mutters, and then Nate gets his mouth over Ewan's red nipple, sucking on him hard. He wants Ewan now, wants to rip his shorts down the back and fuck him over the sink, but this is a house party and there's no time, it's not appropriate. None of this is. He has to stop.

Ewan whines, and in the hallway someone laughs in a scandalised ort of way. Nate bites Ewan hard, and comes up to nuzzle his throat.

"God, you fucker," Ewan mutters. "I can't take you anywhere."

"You can take me home," Nate says, and Ewan laughs, careless and happy.

Someone knocks on the door, and they push apart like teeagers caught in the back of a cinema, When Nate catches sight of himself in the mirror he's covered in glitter from throat to crotch, a shimmering trail that gives them both away completely. "Well, fuck."

Ewan ignores it, sticking his hair up in all directions. He stuffs the pastie in the pocket of Nate's pants, tips him a flirty wink, and opens the door.

"Hold your fucking horses, we're almost done!"

The girl in the hall laughs and pushes her way inside. Ewan catches Nate's hand to drag him out, and it's worse, now, just one pasty and a reddened star-shaped space on Ewan's chest more obscene than two stars, so much more than none.

He looks debauched. Nate feels debauched. Ewan's hand is warm and sweaty in his, and no-one cares.

Except him. When Ewan grins back over his shoulder Nate feels it in his gut, this bright hot thing that buoys him up. He wraps an arm around Ewan's midriff, fingers coming up to stroke the one remaining star.

"Oh, you're fucking kidding me," Ewan mutters, batting his hand away. "Wait half an hour, you fucker."

"I'm holding you to that," Nate tells him, grinning like his face will break.

Ewan snorts, which he counts as a yes. Good enough.

[robinmoray]

[robinmoray]

(not so) Naughty Advent, Day Fifteen

Wordcount: 700 Pairing: MM, Ewan & Channon Content Tags: contemporary, restraints Rating: Mature Summary: Advent snippet, day fifteen. Sometimes Channon wishes Ewan would stop.

The cuffs are black, some kind of flat synthetic tab with velcro closures. There are hooks, the kind with sliding clasps.

"Like this?" Channon asks, wrapping one around Ewan's ankle. It velcros shut easily. Channon tucks a finger under it to make sure it's not too tight.

Ewan waggles his foot. "Aye, like that." He's lying on the floor in front of the sofa, one leg up over Channon's knee. They've been watching Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares (the UK version) and Ewan apparently can't sit on a sofa like a normal person.

The cuffs had been caught between the sofa cushions. When Channon fished them out it had taken almost a minute for him to work out what they were.

"Jack always does it with rope," he says, by way of explanation.

Ewan snorts, folding his hands behind his head. "Jack's a wanker."

"Jack's my sir," Channon reminds him, because even if Ewan doesn't care for Jack he should care for Channon's feelings.

"Still a wanker," Ewan says, kicking his other foot up onto the sofa.

Channon frowns. He doesn't like it when Ewan says things like that but he doesn't know how to stop him.

Unless.

Experimentally, he wraps the other cuff around Ewan's other ankle. Ewan lets him, not paying attention, too fixed on the 'bloke getting a bollocking' on the screen. So. Channon snaps the cuffs together.

"What are you--"

It's relatively easy to pull Ewan off-balance. He weighs nothing, and anyway most of his weight ends up on his shoulders. Channon lifts the cuffs by the join of the clips, his fist between Ewan's ankles, pushing up like a one-handed overhead press.

Ewan yelps, his palms slapping against the floor. "Oi!"

"Take it back," Channon says.

Ewan glares at him. "What?"

"About Jack."

"Christ all fucking fuck," Ewan mutters, and he tries to curl up on himself, reaching for his feet.

Channon just lifts the cuffs higher. It's an effort, a burn in his tricep, but he can take it. Ewan flops back, huffing like an angry kettle.

"What the fuck do you want me to say? He's pretentious. All that fucking rope."

Channon feels his mouth turn down. "I like the rope." Ewan rolls his eyes, so Channon puts his bare toes in Ewan's face, smushing his nose. "It's not pretentious."

"Get your stinking foot off me!"

"My feet smell like mandarins," Channon tells him, because they do. He has a moisturiser for that. It costs a fortune, of course. Jack's idea, also of course.

"Pretentious," Ewan scoffs, shoving him away.

It's not pretentious. "I like it," Channon tells him, though mostly he likes it because Jack likes it. "And I like the rope. Don't make it sound bad." Ewan opens his mouth as if he's going to say something awful, but Channon doesn't give him a chance. "Don't make me feel bad about it. You said it was okay if I liked stuff." You said I didn't have to be ashamed of it.

Ewan's mouth is open, his eyes very wide. Then he presses his lips together, something in his face that makes Channon feel vindicated. "I'm not … you can like whatever you want."

"And you can't talk shit about Jack to me. It's not fair."

"Fine. I'm sorry."

Channon lets him down. He's ready to hoist Ewan's feet again if he starts up, but Ewan just shoves one of them into Channon's armpit like he's cold, and Channon lets him because he's grateful. They stay like that for a while, as an angry Englishman yells at someone for being, in Ewan's words, 'fucking bampot'.

He doesn't even realise he's playing with the cuffs until Ewan kicks him, gently. "Oi."

"What?"

"If you're not dragging me to the bedroom by my ankles like some kind of neanderthal, then leave it."

And that's not going to happen. "Want me to take them off?"

"No," Ewan says. "Just leave it."

Ewan sounds content, and Channon's forgiven him, so he leaves them there, and does his best not to play with the vecro.

(Later, when Ewan forgets about them and tries to stand up, Channon does his best not to laugh, but he thinks, really, Ewan deserves it.)

[robinmoray]

Wow!! Teal Beauty! This Un Named Royal Albert, Avon shaped set was first out in the 1950s and then again in the 1970s. There are 6 different colors in this series, the teal is my favorite!

[robinmoray]

Naughty Advent, Day Fourteen

Wordcount: 1000 Pairing: MM, Nate/Ewan Content Tags: contemporary, established relationship, BDSM, toys, negotiation Rating: Explicit Summary: Advent snippet, day fourteen. Again, Nate wants something, but they have to do it right.

The first time he suggests it, Ewan's eyes narrow to wary slits. "No," he says, and then he acts up so badly Nate doesn't mention it again for over a month.

The second time he pins Ewan to the kitchen counter, bracketing him in with both arms so he can't get away. Ewan growls at him, grinding back into his lap, but Nate holds him still, pressing his mouth up behind Ewan's ear.

"Get away, you're prickling me with your hairy face!"

"You love my hairy face," Nate says, scuffing his beard down Ewan's neck. Ewan makes a noise like a happy cat, and stops wriggling, letting Nate rub him up.

Nate, being Nate, takes advantage of it.

"I get that you don't want to top," Nate says, squeezing Ewan hard the moment he stiffens up, "and I respect that. I don't want you to top me. But I would really like it if I could ride your dick some time."

Ewan makes a disgusted noise and tries to break out of Nate's grip. "Why? You're supposed to be the Dom, I don't--"

"That's exactly why we're having this conversation," Nate says, clamping down on him. He covers Ewan with his body, bending him over the counter, and Ewan goes still. Fuck, he's difficult. But so worth it. "I want to use you like a human dildo. You won't enjoy it, I can promise you that. But if you're good, you'll get a treat after."

Ewan's silence is ominous, but then he says, very quietly, "You're not going to make me fuck you, right?"

"Not a chance, baby boy." Nate kisses the back of Ewan's nek, where his hair needs cutting. "I'm not that cruel."

It seems to take the resistance out of him. Ewan twists to eye Nate over his shoulder, his expression wary and still. "Okay. We can do that."

There's really only one way this can go down. Nate cuffs him to the bed, wrists and ankles in opposite corners. Then he takes out the sleeve, and holds it up for Ewan to see.

It's clear, thick, and ribbed with nubs--on the outside. The inside is smooth, and Nate is pretty sure Ewan isn't going to feel much of anything, let alone enough to bring him off.

Ewan's mouth twists into a sneer. "It looks like an alien dick. You've got a fetish."

"They're not fetishes, they're kinks," Nate says.

"You're such a pervert."

Nate grins. "Yeah. And you've just talked yourself into a ball gag. Happy?"

He doesn't look happy, when he's glaring up from the bed with rubber between his teeth. Nate slicks Ewan's dick, watches it fill up, and the knowledge that Ewan is hating every second of this (but letting him do it anyway) fills him with a deep satisfaction.

"Maybe I should get a rubber sheet. Pin it over you so just your dick's exposed. Or wrap you up in a sack. Put a hood over your head so you can't even watch. Or is watching worse?" Ewan growls, yanking against the cuffs. Nate grins at him. "Yeah, I bet watching's worse."

The cock sleeve goes on easily. He takes his time settling Ewan's balls into their loop, admiring the way it makes them pop out from his body. Ewan makes an angry noise. Nate pretends to ignore him.

"Did you want this?" Nate holds up a plug. Ewan's expression tightens. "So you do want this." Ewan shakes his head. Nate cocks his own on one side. "You don't? That's too bad for you."

Ewan makes an indignant sound, but by the time Nate's actually pushing the plug inside him he's resigned to it, relaxing for it, taking it in without protest. It's wonderful to see him give in, fighting Nate at every step but ultimately letting him have his way. Nate kneels over Ewan's belly, fingering himself lazily and watching Ewan's eyes flicker back and forth, arousal and anger warring in his face.

"You hate this, don't you?" Nate pats his cheek, enjoying his flinch. "God, this is so worth putting up with your bullshit. Now. Lie still for me, there's a good boy."

If not for the gag Ewan would be yelling at him, he can tell, but instead it's just this muffled mumble that hikes up into a strangled sound as Nate sinks down. It's a lot, with the sheath, and it's been a long fucking time, but God, it feels good. Better when Ewan huffs through his nose, glaring like he wants to set Nate on fire.

"Shhh," Nate says, settling in. "Take it like a man."

It's the only way they can do this. Nate won't let Ewan fuck him and Ewan doesn't want to, but like this Nate can have him, take him in, use him for his own pleasure, and Ewan gets nothing but frustration. He's furious, biting down on the gag and lasering Nate with his eyes, and Nate just sighs and rocks down onto him, jerking himself off with slow, smooth strokes. He can take as long as he wants, and he does, working himself up to the edge, and again, and again, and Ewan is whimpering, his hips hitching up, his face so red it's obvious he's getting something out of this despite his protests.

When Nate comes his whole body clenches up tight, wringing itself out. He braces himself with a hand on Ewan's chest, spilling over him in hot throbs that spatter across his skin. Ewan makes an ungodly sound, thrashing like a mad thing. Nate waits until he's caught his breath before taking out the gag.

"You fucking bastard," Ewan snarls. "God, you look so fucking pleased with yourself, I--"

"Shut up, baby boy," Nate says, then he shuts Ewan up with his tongue and Ewan lets him, sucking hungrily at his lip.

It lasts for all of a minute. "I hate you," Ewan moans. "I hate you so much."

Nate grins. "Aw, I love you too."

And he does. Everything about them, even the hard parts.

It's all worth it, just to have this.

[robinmoray]