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tommybowefuneralattendee · 7 months

Text

trust fall

spommy || 8k || rating: E || find it on ao3

Like so many other bad decisions, this one begins when Tommy bothers to pick up his phone.

"Okay, so I may have made a few questionable decisions," Spencer says apropos of nothing, his voice a little too quiet across the line.

"Always a great way to start a phone call. Hi, Spencer, how's your evening? Good? Good! Oh mine? Well-"

"Tommy, this is an emergency," Spencer interrupts, the stress in his voice coming clear in the increased volume of it.

"Then why did you call me?" Tommy asks, his voice panicked and high before he forces himself calm, "what's going on?"

"So I may have made a few questionable decisions," Spencer repeats, his awkward fear laugh coming across the line. Okay, so he's scared. Tommy softens his voice.

"What's up?" he coaxes, wishing he could put his hand on Spencer's shoulder like he usually might while assuring the other man.

“Well, I. Well,” Spencer says, stopping and starting, hemming and hawing like he has no idea how to crack into this. Tommy hums.

“It’s okay, I’m not going to make fun of you. Unless it’s funny. Then I might, a little. But I promise to be as gracious about this as I can possibly be. You can trust me,” he says, voice softer than he means; he didn’t mean to say that last bit at all.

“You know I trust you. So. Well. I,” Spencer starts, clearing his throat, then in a rush, “I have a silicone dick stuck in my ass.” Though his mind desperately wants to linger on the idea of Spencer trusting him so implicitly, Tommy can’t help the helpless laughter that spills out of him at that.

“You what?”

“Tommy, I know you heard me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Well what do you mean by stuck?”

“What does anyone mean by stuck? I mean I can’t get it out, dude. How do people do this?” Spencer asks hopelessly, the end of his question curling into a whine. The reality of the situation strikes Tommy suddenly. His straight best friend (who he would not admit to having feelings for under pain of actual torture or maybe if Spencer was upset) has a dildo in his ass, and his first idea was to call Tommy. Stuck. A light bulb might as well shine above his head.

“Oh, you bought one without a base, didn’t you?” The noise that Spencer makes then is higher than he knew Spencer's voice could go.

“I didn’t know!” he exclaims, obviously frustrated. Tommy can practically see the other man pulling at his own hair even over the phone. He cannot think about what Spencer looks like right now. Once more unto the breach.

“Okay, okay, I just need to know a few more details. Does it hurt?” Tommy asks, lowering his voice back into that coaxing place he can't help but fall into with Spencer sometimes, always wanting to preserve Spencer's peace, to soothe any of his aches.

“I mean, no? It’s not exactly pleasant but there’s definitely no, like, tearing. Or whatever.” Another laugh spills out of Tommy without him bidding it.

“Oh my god,” he says, helpless still, and Spencer groans.

“Tommy, can you please be normal about this?” he says. Tommy's laugh this time is terribly high pitched, but he can't help the panic spiking it.

“Is there a normal reaction to this? Because I certainly don’t know about it!”

“Okay, yeah, true, true, I’m sorry,” Spencer assuages pitifully, obviously caught between freaking out and assuring Tommy that everything is, in fact, fine. He hates when Spencer feels like that; if they were in front of each other, it would be showing all over Spencer's face, and Tommy would do anything for him not to look like that. To make him smile after feeling like that. Fuck. He pulls a teasing comment from the back of his throat.

"You're probably being a little baby about it," he says weakly. Spencer snorts.

"What, so, should I just yank it out?" he asks, teasing him right back. Fuck him for being so good at it. Tommy gasps a panicked oh my god beneath his breath.

"Oh my god, no, just stay where you are, I'm coming over," he rushes out, most definitely not thinking it through.

"You're coming over to look at my asshole," Spencer says flatly, which is fair. Tommy bursts into giggles, halfway to hysterical and completely unsure how he's gonna come back off that ledge.

"Absolutely," he says, hopefully leaving no room for argument. Like clockwork, Spencer sighs.

"Alright, fine. You still have your key?" he asks, and Tommy's heart, ever the betrayer and ever a cliche, skips a beat. Spencer had let Tommy borrow a key to his apartment to drop something off between shoots once, months ago, and had never asked for it back. This is the first time it's ever been called Tommy's key. Tommy had been trying to find a way to give it back for months, telling himself that he would feel better once it was done, but he's glad that he didn't now. Spencer called it his key. Tommy clears his throat.

"Yeah, I'll be there in fifteen," he says, and he hits the disconnect button before Spencer can get another word out. What he just agreed to hits him over the head one more time. Fucking hell. He never can see a bad decision without running full tilt towards it, can he? He sighs, making himself get up off of the couch. He's just going to Spencer's, so it's not like he needs to change out of his joggers and t-shirt, even when that voice in the back of his head insists that he really should. Like he should dress up to go help Spencer out of a tough situation. Or, rather, help a tough situation out of Spencer, maybe.

The task at hand, Tommy, the task at hand.

Socks, shoes, wallet just in case, keys, lock the door on your way out. Slip into the routine of it all so the crushing weight of your anxiety falls back into a manageable class. Awkwardly wave at your neighbor as they take their trash down to the shoot. Box breathe in the elevator like that's something that makes you feel more normal.

He feels marginally more put together when he climbs into the driver's seat of his car, the route to Spencer's place so ingrained in him that he doesn't really have to think about it, even in this inky darkness of night. For a moment, the drive soothes him enough to wipe his mind blank of what he's about to do- walk into Spencer's place and walk back to the bedroom, open the door and see his best friend- help his best friend- he's not thinking about it. The image of Spencer on his back, whining and begging, fingers spreading himself open, and Tommy nearly swerves off the fucking road. Focus. He puts the image away.

Shamefully, he knows he'll be revisiting it later.

"Hey?" he calls as he open Spencer's door. Toeing off his shoes at the door is automatic at this point, just one part of spending time at Spencer's place that makes it feel a little more like something he shouldn't let matter as much as it does. At least one stray shoe tries to trip him as soon as he clears the entryway; Tommy catches himself and moves determinedly to the bedroom. Jesus Christ. The bedroom.

"Back here, man!" Spencer replies. A giggle bursts out of Tommy. He pushes open the door, never in his life happier to see somebody covered in a blanket. He doesn't know how well he would have coped with coming in here directly to seeing his best friend's whole... situation. His single ball. Tommy holds back another helpless laugh.

"Hey, Spen," he says, riding that intersection of gentled and amused, "How you holding up?" Spencer, being Spencer, shrugs his shoulders. Tommy keeps his eyes resolutely focused on the other man's face. He tries to think of another person he would be at all willing to do this for and comes up empty, besides maybe Alex, and only because his other best friend has already seen him at an even lower point than this. 2017 was a wild time.

"Well, I got bored about ten minutes before I called you and I had finished the book I was reading on my phone, so honestly, mostly just glad you're here," Spencer says, stealing back the attention Tommy had so desperately been trying to put somewhere else. Of course he read, bored, before he was willing to call for help. Men.

"Florida man loses interest while fucking himself in the ass," Tommy jokes, knowing immediately that he should not have said that. Spencer's hand comes up to rub at his eyes. Tommy still hasn't looked away from his face.

"Dude," Spencer says. Tommy snorts.

"Dude," he says back, finally crossing the room to sit down delicately on the edge of Spencer's bed, enough space between them for another person to occupy it. Spencer holds the blanket up beneath his chin. Tommy doesn't know how to broach the subject, let alone tell the other man to let him look so he can start helping at all. Jesus.

"It's not even that I lost interest, I guess? Like. I think I don't get it," Spencer says, the blanket coming down a little, enough so that Tommy can see the hair on his chest. He keeps his gaze on Spencer's face anyway. That way lies trouble and all of that. Just because Spencer trusts him to help him out doesn't suddenly give Tommy permission to look. He doesn't get it. What does that even mean?

"Could you... elaborate? On that? I guess? You don't have to, we can just do the damn thing and move on with our lives," Tommy suggests, thinking suddenly of the fact that Spencer might not be super comfortable doing things like having a conversation during the duration of what he's going through right now. Hell, he might not want to look Tommy in the face for a while. It's a cross that Tommy is willing to bear.

"I trust you, man," Spencer repeats, then "I guess I wanted to try it out because- it doesn't matter why I was trying it out. But, like, it wasn't bad? But it also wasn't mind blowing? I don't know," he finishes, running out of steam and confidence long before he finishes speaking. Curiosity burns beneath Tommy's breastbone, begging him to ask about the why of this completely unprecedented what, but he pushes it down in favor of keeping Spencer as comfortable as possible. He pushes down the flutter that Spencer's trust ignites in him as well. There's too much going on. He can't even briefly pause on the idea of Spencer not finding the process mind blowing, and yanks his mind away from how good Tommy could make it for him. Now is not the time. It never will be. Anyway.

"You wanna show me what we're working with, or are we just gonna talk about it all night?" Tommy asks, injecting levity into the situation as best he can. If possible, Spencer goes an even deeper red at the suggestion. He clears his throat.

"Please be cool about this. I know this is weird. You were the only person I could think of to call. For help with this anyway."

"Is this a because I'm gay thing?" Tommy asks, tilting his head to the side. Spencer makes a face as if the thought had never even occurred to him, briefly confused but also a little offended.

"No, this is a you're my best friend thing. Who the fuck else am I gonna let see me like this, dude? Be realistic," Spencer says, but the last bit is said with just a little bit of Spencer's laugh sprinkled in, and Tommy can't help but smile. Spencer fucking Agnew. The idea that Tommy is the only one Spencer wants to see him naked is more difficult to push down than one might originally suppose, but Tommy's not thinking about it.

"You're still stalling, bub," Tommy notes instead. Spencer sighs.

"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Okay," he says mostly to himself, like he's hyping himself up to take the blanket down from his chest. That thought is cut short almost as soon as it occurs to Tommy, because Spencer whips the blanket away all at once like ripping off a band-aid. And it's Spencer. Tommy saves himself just before choking on his own spit, really.

Hair trails down Spencer exactly as Tommy already knew it did, even if this is the first time he's seeing it for himself. The flush on Spencer's face goes straight down to his chest, rosy tones creeping lower than Tommy knows what to do with. He wants to put his mouth on Spencer's skin, put his lips to the pink there and know how Spencer tastes under his tongue. But that is not an appropriate thing to think about one's friend. Tommy scoots a bit closer on the bed with the awkward grace of a boy that spent far, far too many years keeping his eyes on the ground whenever other boys undressed. It's a hard thing to be normal about, even now. God bless the south, right?

He still hasn't made himself look away from Spencer's face. His eyes had gone down to Spencer's chest before he snapped them back up, too nervous to look even in this moment of permission. Tommy starts hard when a hand comes into contact with his own. He hadn't even noticed Spencer reaching for him. Fuck.

"Hey, man, it'll suck, but I'll go to Urgent Care before I make you do anything you're super fucking uncomfortable with. You don't have to do this," Spencer says, low and soothing, and Tommy is a fucking coward. He's a fucking coward, and he almost takes the out. Almost being the operative word.

"Okay, we're going to be as normal as possible about this. For me. Now, I'm assuming you used lube? Spence, please tell me you used lube," Tommy teases, falsifying worry easily for the sake of the smile Spencer gives him in return. He also rolls his eyes, but hey. You win some, you lose some.

"Yes, I used lube this time." Tommy's attention catches on the phrasing.

"Was there a time in where you did this without lube?"

"Not, like, the dildo. Just fingers. And just the first time. It was in the shower anyway, it was fine. Bought lube after, though," Spencer says, unknowingly giving Tommy a very clear image of the other man in his head. Tommy clears his throat. He wills the image out of his mind, too conscious of popping a boner while doing this. He cannot afford for that to happen. That would suck so bad. Don't think about sucking right now.

"Okay, where's your lube? And do you want me to, like, direct you, or..." Tommy trails off, unable to voice the alternative. Spencer grabs the lube from between his pillows, coloring deeper as he hands it over to Tommy.

"You can- um. If you're okay with- whichever you're more comfortable with, man," Spencer stutters, and Tommy takes a moment to flounder with the decision. Just a second to freak the fuck out about what he's about to do. Then, he squirts lube in his own hand, taking a settling breath.

"Let's do this," he says, and the way that Spencer immediately spreads his legs saps all the moisture from his mouth. Jesus. He has to at least try to be clinical about it, because there's no other way he's going to survive this. He kneels between Spencer's knees, meeting his eyes for a moment before he finally allows his gaze to travel downward, over the expanse of Spencer's throat, the range of his hairy chest, the trail of hair that leads down to his pelvis. It feels weirder to be doing this without having kissed Spencer, but he's not even going to joke about that, let alone verbalize it genuinely. He bypasses Spencer's dick and ball, the thought of which nearly makes him burst into laughter, though he has to admit that the sight itself isn't funny at all. He tries not to wonder what it would feel like in his mouth. Instead, he trails his fingertips across Spencer's perineum, warning him before he actually breaches the other man's body.

Pressing inside of Spencer is an exercise of self control. Spencer makes this sharp little humming sound as Tommy's fingers enter him, starting with two given that Spencer is already stretched. He resolutely does not picture Spencer doing this himself earlier. His fingertips quickly reach the toy, just about half an inch deeper than it was ever meant to go. There's a suction cup on the end of it just slightly more flared than the base of the toy itself, and it's not difficult to grab onto- it's just that when he does, he curls his fingers to do so. In doing so, he bumps the toy, and that does a little more than he bargained for.

"Oh my god, what did you just do?" Spencer asks, eyes locked on Tommy even as his cheeks go a red that's getting darker and darker by the second. Impulsively, Tommy repeats the motion. Spencer moans, high and reedy, and Tommy quickly gives up on the idea that he's going to get through this interaction without getting hard. It's important to know how to take your losses, you know? He can't be held liable for getting hard when Spencer fucking Agnew is moaning underneath him, clenching around the tips of his fingers. He should get a pass for that, honestly. Guilt roils in his stomach still.

"God, I- well, I think I know why it wasn't mind blowing for you, bub. That would be your prostate, and it's like half of the point of this whole gig," Tommy jokes, because he has to joke because this is fucking insane. It really is an accident when his knuckles brush over it again as he pulls the dildo out, and Spencer's reactions are only getting louder.

"Tommy," Spencer says, his voice already a little ragged and punched out. Tommy's stomach drops, heat crawling up his spine.

"You can't say my name like that," he breathes out, not really meaning to say it at all. He sets the dildo down on Spencer's bedside table, but he can't make himself move from his novel position over Spencer. He swallows thickly, gearing himself up to move, but Spencer wraps his hand around Tommy's bicep.

"Tommy," Spencer says again, and it's softer but no less laced with lust, and Tommy can't do this. This cannot be expected of him. He's just a guy. Just a guy with an adorable best friend and a hopeless crush on a straight guy. He tries harder to push himself up, but even now he's not trying hard enough to even break Spencer's grip. He gives in and leans lower instead, resting his forehead against Spencer's.

"What are we doing, dude?" he says, his voice as raw and rough as Spencer's, and no less turned on. He hopes Spencer can't hear that as clearly as Tommy can in his own voice.

"This situation was like 75% your fault," Spencer blurts out, obviously unintentionally given the expression that moves across his face as soon as the words break free. Tommy reels for a moment, blinking rapidly and putting space between Spencer's face and his own. Spencer wrinkles his nose, embarrassed.

"Pardon?" Tommy asks, endlessly curious and just this touch hopeful, and he shouldn't foster that emotion. All this is going to lead to is him getting hurt. He should get out while he still can. Spencer pulls him back down, just enough so that their foreheads rest against each other once more. This feels more intimate, more raw, more exposed than any actual sex Tommy has ever had. Maybe it's because it's Spencer. Maybe it's because he wants Spencer like he wants to breathe, like he wants food and water and shelter, so deeply fucking essential that the need is inextricable from the very fabric of Tommy's being. Maybe it's just the situation. Who knows?

"Your- um- your funeral. The will. At the- at the end," Spencer clarifies nervously, as if Tommy doesn't remember his own funeral roast. He has to think back on what he said at the end, what he left to Spencer in the will specifically, but Spencer keeps talking before Tommy can bring it to the forefront of his mind. "You. You implied that I should- that I should try it out. Fingering myself. And I couldn't stop thinking about it- about you- and, well. Now we're here."

Heat rips through Tommy like it has some place to be, and like that place to be is directly to Tommy's groin. Spencer was fingering himself because of him. Because Tommy joked that he should. Because he was thinking about Tommy and couldn't stop thinking about him and that led to him putting his fingers inside of himself. He had touched himself because he couldn't stop thinking about Tommy.

"That was months ago," he says instead of any of that, because all of that is not pertinent to the discussion. Or maybe it is. Tommy can't give himself over to pipe dreams this close to the real thing. "Have you been- when did this start? How long after?"

Spencer looks away from Tommy's face, looking off into the middle distance somewhere behind Tommy's left shoulder. "I showered after I got home from work that day," Spencer says. It takes a moment for Tommy to realize what Spencer is implying.

"You've been fingering and fucking yourself for months? Because of something I said?" he asks, unable to hold the question. Spencer closes his eyes.

"Because of you. Just, like, you. You're crazy smart- even when you think you're dumb, you're one of the fucking smartest people I know- and you're wicked funny and so, so out of my league. And just the idea of being with you like that. I got a little caught up in it," Spencer trails off, shame curling around the end of his sentences, and Tommy's running his hand up and down his side comfortingly before he can think any different of it. Spencer's eyes snap open at the feeling of his touch.

"Being with me?" Tommy asks, thin. He has to be sure.

"Tommy. you know what I mean," Spencer sighs. Tommy bumps their foreheads together softly.

"Tell me anyway," he says softly, his thumb rubbing over a swath of skin just beneath Spencer's rib cage. Spencer's anxious expression starts showing the cracks of hope across the surface.

"You- you made me think about- I already knew I liked you more than any friend I'd ever had, different from every friend I've ever had, but I guess I hadn't ever really unpacked it? Like dude, I'm in my fucking thirties, I didn't think there was anything to unpack. But there was. There is. And I have no idea what to fucking do with that," Spencer says, and dipping down to kiss him isn't even a decision on Tommy's part. Spencer squeaks but relaxes into the kiss nearly instantaneously. Tommy keeps his hands holding Spencer by the waist, too scared of the bubble popping to let them wander at all. He's always looking for the second shoe.

"Was that okay?" he asks, cautious, and Spencer laughs.

"Tommy, I just told you I've been thinking about having your dick in me for months when I didn't even know I was interested in dick beforehand. This is more than okay," Spencer says, leaning up to kiss him again with a hand on Tommy's cheek. When Tommy finally makes himself pull back, Spencer's pink lips are kiss bitten and shiny, and he looks so fucking pretty Tommy could cry.

He can't help but stare; it's not until Spencer releases a nervous chuckle that Tommy realizes how long he's been staring, though. "You look really good," he says. It does not even vaguely summarize the overwhelming affection (he's not going to call it love, even if he would have said he loved Spencer before he walked into this room today- it's a more difficult idea when there's no way they're going to manage just friends after this) that is swollen within him like a balloon, hot air rising in his chest. Spencer is looking up at him like he said something revolutionary and not the most boilerplate take of all time: water is wet, grass is green, Spencer looks good. He just happens to look particularly good underneath Tommy, bright eyes focused on him and only him, beautiful.

"Shut up, man," Spencer says, turning to hide his face in the pillow beside his head. Tommy's hand is moving before he really makes a choice of it, fingers gentle when they grab Spencer's chin, guiding him so that he's looking up at Tommy once more. Tommy runs his thumb over Spencer's bottom lip. Spencer presses a kiss to the pad of it. Somehow, this is what makes Tommy feel the most potent overwhelm of the entire night thus far.

"I really like you, Spencer," he whispers, too aware of himself and this boy, too aware of their hands and the skin they touch. He doesn't know that he's ever felt this way about someone. Spencer looks up at him with those round eyes, shocked all over again. Tommy can't not kiss him, moving the hand at his chin to cup his jaw, fingers just touching the soft, buzzed hair behind his ear. Spencer rocks his hips up and, not expecting that, Tommy's fingers clench and bury his nails ever so slightly into Spencer's scalp. The noise that Spencer makes then is one Tommy will remember for years to come.

"I- I really like you too. This is crazy," Spencer says; Tommy giggles. He doesn't know that he's ever laughed during sex as much as it seems like he might with Spencer. Given that they do this again. Tommy likes to think they will. Spencer is looking up at him, watching him with a wonderstruck smile on his face, and that stripped raw feeling that should hurt feels like someone is catching him in a free fall, like there's nothing to worry about. It's a very new feeling.

Spencer's legs twitch around Tommy's hips, and the reminder that Spencer is quite literally ass naked hits like a boxer. When Tommy tries again to move, Spencer holds him still. He raises an eyebrow in question.

"You um. You don't have to move. If you don't want to. We could. I mean, I'm already- and you- I really don't want to mess this up, dude," Spencer trails off. He leans down to kiss him softly for just a moment.

"You're not gonna fuck this up, darling," Tommy says, the pet name coming out as natural as you please given how many times Tommy has imagined calling Spencer that before without it being in jest. "We're already friends. We're not getting to know each other. You don't have to impress me, or try to make me feel comfortable. I'm already comfortable. Because it's you. Whatever you want from me, you can just say." Spencer's looking at him like he build the sun in his fucking tool shed, and if Tommy could keep Spencer in his hands, could keep him happy and safe and sleepsoft and pleased, he thinks he might could be happy like that for the rest of his life.

"You're not allowed to be this nice to me," Spencer says stubbornly, pulling Tommy down more so that he can hide his face in the other man's shoulder. A laugh bursts out of Tommy, quickly interrupted by a choked gasp as their bodies align. The soft texture of Tommy's joggers does nothing to hide how the proceedings have affected him physically, and Spencer makes that pleased little humming sound again. He doesn't release his grip on Tommy's shoulders.

"You can have whatever you want, but you're gonna have to tell me what that is, Spence," Tommy coaxes at a whisper, even though he certainly has an idea of what might be wanted from him. He's surprised still when Spencer's fingertips pull at the bottom of his shirt, not trying to pull it up and off, but just a pinch of the fabric, like how a child might get your attention. Tommy smiles. Spencer's entire hand splays across his lower back then, big and warm.

"I've been thinking about it so long, Tommy." he whispers, resting their foreheads together again. Fondness shoots through Tommy like lightning, sweet and hot. He presses a quick kiss to Spencer's mouth before stripping off his shirt, getting up on his knees to do so without leaning too much weight on the man beneath him. God, Spencer is under him. The thought makes Tommy feel on top of the fucking world. Spencer trails his fingertips just underneath the waistband of Tommy's joggers.

"What'd you think about, baby? How do you want me?" Tommy asks, pushing down his joggers but leaving his boxer briefs; Spencer's knees close against his hips not a second later. The barest hint of Spencer's nails scratches across the small of his back.

"God, fuck, Tommy, how don't I fucking want you, dude? The thought of- it sounds dumb because I didn't realize I was- that I wanted you for real til the roast, but God, Tommy, the first time I thought about what you'd look like under me, we hadn't been friends a year yet. And, and, and I thought about getting on my knees for you probably- fuck- it must have been not long after the first time I thought about fucking you. And it took wanting this," Spencer says, pulling Tommy down between his legs more thoroughly, making Tommy moan, "for me to figure out that all that wanting actually was something. I want this. I want your dick in me. This is what I want. But it's just what I want first."

And oh. If the aftermath of this encounter had been Spencer realizing that this wasn't for him, that he hadn't thought it through beforehand, if the result of this was that he and Spencer had a few awkward months before they came back together again as friends, Tommy was ready to deal with that reality. But Spencer wants him. Spencer wants him on top of him and under him and wants to get on his knees for him, the picturing of which nearly derails this entire interaction. The idea that Spencer has wanted him this long, wants him at all, has Tommy chasing the other man's mouth, kissing him hard. Spencer moans pleased and pretty as Tommy finally lets his hands wander, one of his hands migrating to thumb over Spencer's nipple while the other slips to cup and grab at Spencer's ass.

"Fuck, you are so pretty," Tommy says as he breaks the kiss, trailing his mouth down Spencer's jaw, his throat, his collarbones. He stops there to suck and bite just because, Spencer's hand coming to hold his head there like it's the best thing he's ever felt. His hand moves from the back of Tommy's head to cup his cheek instead, pulling him back up and into another kiss. His mouth is hot and soft against Tommy's own, the smooth glide of his kiss quickly overwhelming Tommy's senses. Tommy doesn't think anything of it when Spencer takes hold of one of his hands. It's not til he realizes that Spencer isn't holding it but guiding it that he pulls back to ask.

"Please, Tommy," Spencer says simply, looking up at Tommy with those big dark eyes, and Tommy couldn't tell him no if he tried. He follows Spencer's desire, wrapping his hand around the other man's erection. A punched out moan comes out of Spencer then, like just the touch of Tommy's hand is more than he can handle. The head is sticky with tacky pre-cum, evidence of Spencer's activity before Tommy ever got there maybe, and if he didn't already know what Spencer wanted from him, he'd be moving down Spencer's body to put his mouth where his hand is. It buzzes in Tommy's skull, the idea of looking up at Spencer when he's bringing him that kind of pleasure. He has to table the thought for later.

"How many fingers did you use before your toy?" Tommy asks, not relenting in his slow, loose strokes of Spencer's cock. Spencer's hand moves then from where he had still been holding onto Tommy's wrist, sliding up to wrap around his bicep once more. He squeezes lightly when he gets there.

"I didn't do anything stupid, I used two," Spencer says, smiling like he and Tommy are just having any conversation, like he's just looking at Tommy to look at him. Tommy can't resist giving him another quick kiss before returning to his point. He runs his nose along Spencer's hairline, nuzzling into the other man. He doesn't know that he's ever felt like this.

"I'm gonna take you up to three, and then I'll give you what you want, yeah?" Tommy proposes, pressing a kiss to Spencer's temple. Spencer opens his mouth with an air of obvious protest, but closes it when he catches eyes with Tommy. Instead, he nods. Tommy drops a kiss on his cheek with a muttered thank you beneath his breath, sliding down between Spencer's legs and leaving biting kisses as he goes.

Giving in to impulse, once he has poured more lube in his hand and is ready to begin, Tommy runs the head of Spencer's cock along his tongue. Spencer's fingers clench in Tommy's hair, right up on that line of pulling til it hurts. Tommy moves his hands further down, tracing his fingers along Spencer's sensitive skin. Spencer's grip turns gentle, stroking his fingers over Tommy's scalp. Tommy's glad of it a second later, because it means he's looking up at Spencer's face as he pushes his fingers into him. He's still looking when he curls his fingers with practiced familiarity, when Spencer's eyes shut tight and his teeth bite into his bottom lip. He's so fucking beautiful. Tommy sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of Spencer's pale thigh, reveling in the humming groan it pulls from Spencer.

"Oh my god," Spencer whispers, mostly to himself it seems like, but Tommy grins against his skin either way. The thrusts of his fingers remain shallow, spreading them instead to stretch the muscles around them. Spencer's hand moves from Tommy's hair to the side of his face, his thumb rolling over Tommy's lips, and he understands the decision Spencer had made when he had done it, though it's not the one he makes. Instead, he opens his mouth to it, letting Spencer's thumb roll over his tongue in much the same way as he had done with Spencer's dick. Tommy grins at the noise he makes then as he pulls it out of Tommy's mouth.

"More than you bargained for?" he jokes, his voice falling into that deep, flirtatious tone he gets sometimes; it's gratifying to see Spencer shiver at the sound of it. Spencer strokes the side of Tommy's face, running his thumb along the cut of Tommy's cheekbone.

"You're gonna fucking kill me, babe," he says, his words joking but his tone awed, nearly bewildered. Like he doesn't know how he got here. Tommy feels the same way. He kisses the inside of Spencer's thigh over the bite he had left before, pulling his fingers out of the other man. The quiet noise Spencer makes in response could probably be called a whimper. Tommy presses another kiss to the budding bruise helplessly. This boy is gonna kill him, indeed.

"I'm adding the third now," he warns, squirting more lube onto his fingers just in case. He's not going to hurt Spencer. He remembers his own first time bottoming, the way that both he and his partner hadn't had enough experience to know exactly how much preparation fucking someone in the ass takes. It wasn't awful, obviously, or Tommy probably wouldn't be as fond as he is now of receiving, but Spencer deserves better than not awful. With three fingers inside of him, the tips pressed snugly up against his prostate, Spencer writhes, those whimpering noises coming closer together as Tommy spreads his fingers.

"Tommy, Tommy, Tommy, baby, I'm good. I'm okay. We're good," Spencer stutters out, his voice a little higher than it would be typically. Tommy grins and spreads his fingers just one more time, making Spencer groan. "Please, Tommy." He finally relents then, pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the bedspread- it's going to have to be washed after this anyway. He crawls back up from his place at Spencer's hips, hovering over Spencer's face and just looking for a moment, enraptured, before he kisses the other man.

"Condom?" Tommy asks, pulling back. Spencer points at his bedside table, using this opportunity to lean up and kiss and mouth and bite at the skin of Tommy's throat, the swell of his Adam's apple. It's terribly distracting when Tommy is trying to grab a condom so he can actually fuck Spencer, but he also doesn't want to move out of Spencer's reach because goddamn, his mouth. The image of Spencer on his knees returns to him like a weight in his stomach, pressing down on that desperate feeling he's been determinedly ignoring thus far. Just as Tommy's hand closes around the top in an open box of condoms, Spencer's connects with Tommy's pelvis, rubbing at the head of his dick through his boxer briefs. Tommy fumbles the condom but recovers quickly, now more balanced as he resettles evenly over Spencer. Spencer plucks the condom from his hand.

"Let me. Take these off," he says, running his fingers along the inside of the waistband of Tommy's underwear in much the same way he had with Tommy's joggers. The idea that that was only a little while ago, that he hasn't spent his entire life in the cradle of Spencer's hips, sounds very distant right now. He pulls his underwear down from around his hips, pushing them off the bed with very little regard for where they end up. If he has it his way, he and Spencer won't be getting up for a while anyway.

"Jesus," Tommy breathes out as Spencer's fingers wrap solidly around his cock. He tucks his face against Spencer's throat as the other man strokes him a few times, the foil packet of the condom breaking open a secondary noise to the sound of his own moans. The next down stroke has Spencer rolling the condom down Tommy's dick, tightening his hand around the base for just a moment before pulling it away entirely. He brings his hand up now, holding Tommy's cheek in his broad palm once again.

"You ready?" he asks softly, like Tommy is the one doing something difficult (trusting someone enough to let them inside of you, letting someone hold themself over you and feeling safe with their body so close to yours, all of it) here. Tommy presses a gentle but thorough kiss to Spencer's mouth, telegraphing every bit of wordless emotion running through his body right now. Spencer pulls him in, maintaining the kiss, his tongue running along the roof of Tommy's mouth, but his real goal is pretty obvious. He grabs Tommy's cock in his hand again and guides Tommy til he's resting against Spencer's hole, just at the precipice of pushing in. Spencer breaks the kiss just to look at Tommy, to see him as Spencer uses his hands, his hips, everything to pull Tommy inside of him. Tommy groans, leaning his head down against Spencer's collarbone.

"You feel-" he starts, but he incidentally cuts himself off, his hips snapping forward without his thought or regard. Fully engulfed in the heat of Spencer, the tight and warm grip of him, Tommy bites lightly at the skin in front of his mouth. Spencer's hand curls into the hair at the back of Tommy's neck.

"How do I feel, Tommy? Is it good?" he asks. Tommy can hear the smile in his voice, and somehow that makes it all the better.

"So fucking good, Spence. So fucking good," he repeats. Spencer's free hand, the other one occupied in what seems to be holding Tommy here on this fucking planet, moves to Tommy's hip, slowly encouraging him to pull out before pulling him back in fast. Tommy takes a ragged breath to fortify himself. His first few thrusts are slower, gentle slides of pressure before he finds what he's looking for. Spencer's hand tenses around his fist full of Tommy's hair, and the pleasurepain pulls a noise out of Tommy that he didn't know he could make. He copies the exact angle over and over again, pulling more pretty noises out of Spencer even while he's still not going too fast, obsessed with the feeling of the other man clenching around him.

"This is so much- ah- so much better than I imagined," Spencer says, casual, again like they are not engaging in anything other than their absolute normal. Tommy laughs, and then Spencer is laughing with him, bearing down on his cock in the process. Tommy groans.

"You're fucking incredible," he says, his voice just this shade of too earnest for the occasion. Spencer whines against his mouth and tightens the grip of his legs around Tommy's hips. The hand in Tommy's hair traces down his shoulders, fingernails scratching deliciously down the line of his spine. Spencer is grabbing at him like Tommy would ever want to be anywhere else, like Tommy wouldn't stay exactly where he is, in this intimate place with Spencer, for as long as Spencer would have him. The next roll of his hips is purposefully gentle, teasing, and the grabbing of Spencer's hands is rougher. Tommy loves it, maybe more than he should.

"Need you. Come on, Tommy. Not gonna break," Spencer whispers, his expression so fucking fucked out and happy, and what is Tommy gonna do? Not do everything Spencer asks him to? It's Spencer. Spencer could ask him to do almost anything, and if he said jump, Tommy just knows he'd ask how high. The best part is that he knows Spencer would too. Spencer's his person. Overwhelmed by all of the love and the affection and the staggering lust, Tommy braces one of his hands on the bed next to Spencer's head, fucking into Spencer faster.

He fists Spencer's cock then, and stroking with a tight grip and an efficient pace; he knows he's setting a pace that isn't particularly sustainable. Spencer's nails are buried into the skin of his back now, just enough of a sting to bring everything else into focus. Spencer's pretty little noises are starting to take on a thicker note of desperation, his mouth catching on whatever skin of Tommy's he can reach. Tommy leans down to kiss him sweetly, the sweetness trickling quickly into something hot and dirty that makes Tommy feel like Spencer is trying to climb into him, like he's trying to bond them together even more. On a particularly good stroke, Spencer breaks the kiss just to throw his head back, whining. Tommy grins.

"Come on, pretty boy, you can do it. Cum for me," he says, and he doesn't get through another stroke before Spencer gives him what he wants, shooting white between them. He takes his hand off of Spencer and goes to pull out of him, not wanting to overstimulate his partner, especially not on his first time receiving. Spencer's grip on his hip stays him.

"You could... I'm definitely not opposed. To you fucking me til you cum," Spencer says, somehow both blunt and shy, that shot in the middle where Spencer's sarcastic earnestness finds its place. Tommy raises an eyebrow at the man underneath him, inquiring silently. "Yes, I'm sure, Tommy," Spencer confirms with a groan, grabbing Tommy's ass and urging him forward. He mutters a little oh beneath his breath, like he really didn't think this through but in a really good way. Tommy kisses him, short and sweet. He can't help opening his mouth after that, speaking low into Spencer's ear.

"You feel so good. All fucked out and soft. I love that I did this to you," he says, walking around that word- love- with a dangerous closeness, overwhelmed as he presses into Spencer even faster and harder than before. Spencer is whining every time Tommy hits his prostate, his grip on Tommy's hip tight enough now it's fit to bruise. He doesn't even realize he's making comforting little sounds at Spencer, cooing and coaxing, til the other man presses his face against his throat, muttering himself.

"Please, please, please, please, please, please, please," Spencer is saying, so obviously overstimulated and so fucking beautiful taking Tommy like he was made for him, so pretty and pink underneath him. Tommy drops lower, not taking long strokes into Spencer anymore in favor of being chest to chest, his mouth biting into the top of Spencer's shoulder. Spencer closes the hand in his hair and pulls, ripping Tommy's orgasm out of him like a fucking exorcism. He bites into Spencer's shoulder hard enough that he's probably just short of drawing blood, but Spencer is stroking his hair when he comes back down, holding him like something precious, something delicate.

Laying there, head against Spencer's shoulder and not even out of Spencer yet, a bolt of fear lights its way back through Tommy. Spencer said he liked him. That he had wanted this for a while. Tommy has to trust that. He kisses the rough bite on Spencer's shoulder and pulls out gently, tying and throwing the condom in the general direction of his trash can. Spencer wraps both arms around his shoulders and pulls Tommy back down onto himself. A smile stretches across Tommy's face unbidden, and he kisses up from his place at Spencer's sternum til he's looking the other man in the eye again, a peck pressed against his lips. Spencer rubs his nose again Tommy's gently, letting their foreheads rest together.

"You're fucking incredible," Tommy whispers, tucking it into Spencer's cheek with a kiss. Spencer cards a hand through his hair, his touch so gentle that it sends a shiver down Tommy's spine. Spencer's cum is growing tacky between them, and dealing with it now would mean they wouldn't have to deal with it later. When Tommy goes to push himself up, conscious of exactly how annoying cum can be when you're covered in hair, Spencer whines at him, his hand solid on Tommy's lower back.

"Stay," he says, not so much a command but perhaps a bit more than a request, desperate hands pulling Tommy down. Adoration curls up in Tommy like flames licking through him, warm and beautiful. He kisses Spencer's cheek again before actually pushing himself up, only going so far as Spencer's bathroom. He grabs a washcloth out of the bathroom closet, wetting it with warm water in the sink before bringing it back to the bedroom. Spencer reaches up for him as soon as he enters the room.

"I'm back, I'm back," Tommy teases, pressing a kiss to the side of Spencer's face as he swipes the rag across Spencer's soft stomach. He dips down to kiss Spencer's chest gently, not trying to start anything up again, just wanting to touch him. Spencer settles his hand at the back of Tommy's neck. Done with the cleaning up, Tommy drops the washcloth off the side of the bed without much thought; Spencer doesn't seem to think much of it either, taking the opportunity to pull Tommy fully back over him. Tommy goes willingly, tucking his face into the hollow of Spencer's throat. He takes a deep inhale of the other man's scent, his sweet soaps and spicy deodorant, all of the smells of Spencer that make the other man's arms feel like the walls of a home around him. God.

"You're with me on this, right?" Spencer asks- it takes Tommy a second to figure out what he's asking. Is Tommy with him? Is Tommy as bowled over by this, as disbelievingly happy, as overwhelmed in the most positive and lovestruck of ways? The simple answer, yes, is not what Tommy gives him. Instead, he kisses along Spencer's shoulder, head dipped with honest reverence.

"I'm with you, bub," he whispers, quiet but the most sure he's ever been. Spencer presses a kiss to the top of his head. Falling asleep is the easiest it has ever been laying there in Spencer's arms, the warmth of Spencer beneath him, Spencer's fingers carding through his hair, the smell of the other man surrounding him. He feels so safe it's almost fucking sickening, not used to letting himself have something, someone, like this. It feels like Spencer is holding him to the earth. He loves him. He fucking loves him. Now is not the time to tell him that.

But, one day it will be. Tommy's sure enough about that.

#smosh fic #rpf #spommy #tommy #spencer #hope y'all like this bc i cannot believe i actually finished it #mine

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