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Title: 14 – Permission Granted
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Kink. Sub/DOM. Dirty housecleaning.
Disclaimer: The usual. Has absolutely nothing to do with the real life men the book and movie were based. It's only inspired by the movie and I make no profit. And I do not set forth this type of relationship as ideal or healthy for anyone. Although it works for these two.
Permission Granted
Grimes stumbled on the stairs, clutched at the railing and his chest with equal force.
Fuck.
McKnight licked him.
He took a deep breath and ran his tongue over his lips. He could still taste McKnight, but only the slightest hint of himself.
He’d fully expected the taste of his own come. When McKnight bent down and started licking his stomach and chest, licking up the come, Grimes figured he was going to get a mouthful of it. That was the only way he could explain McKnight’s mouth on him like that.
He’d writhed under the hot tongue, clenched his fists, which still hurt from gripping the bars of the headboard so hard, and tried to stay quiet. He had to stay quiet because he knew that if he let himself make the slightest noise, it would rise and grow to caterwauling in a matter of seconds.
McKnight was thorough. He licked up the come, and spent some time licking around a nipple, which was still tingling - the left one - and then across Grimes’ collarbones and up the side of his neck. He’d kissed, or Grimes thought he’d kissed, things were a touch hazy, Grimes’ jaw, and then his lips were on Grimes’ lips and Grimes opened his mouth.
But there was only the hint of Grimes’ come. McKnight had swallowed it all.
It was a soft kiss at first, with McKnight’s tongue tracing his lips and McKnight’s fingers tracing his shoulder. The fingers moved up to his hair, massaging his scalp, and the tongue moved deeper, harder, faster. Grimes made a noise into McKnight’s mouth and the fingers tightened in his hair.
McKnight’s other hand was resting on his hip, and those thick fingers hugging his bone made him feel small. The other hand sliding behind to cradle his head made him feel safe at the same time.
When he’d stopped kissing, before he got up, McKnight had let his head drop to Grimes’ shoulder. He pressed his mouth against Grimes’ neck and mumbled something that Grimes’ brain still refused to process, but Grimes’ cock was pretty fucking sure McKnight had said something along the lines of ‘you’re so fucking sexy it hurts’, but that couldn’t be right. Grimes must have heard wrong.
McKnight had got up and said, “I think it’s time for dinner,” and left. Still fully-clothed and unsated. Hard. Visibly hard. Straining against his pants.
Grimes had run his hand over his own chest, and found it wet, but barely sticky at all. It was clean. It was saliva cooling on his skin, not come.
It had taken a ridiculously long time to put on his t-shirt and jeans. His hands were shaking. His legs were shaking. His cock was soft, but it was prickling as if it wasn’t quite finished yet, and that seemed to make him a bit dizzy.
Grimes made it to the bottom of the stairs without falling. He took a moment to compose himself.
It was useless. He couldn’t compose himself to save his life.
Grimes tried to smooth out the front of his shirt, where his fingers had been clenching the cotton, wrinkling it. He glanced in the living room. No McKnight. He looked in the dining room. Empty, except for the table and piles of papers and the rather eclectic collection of silver tea spoons he’d found at the bottom of a decrepit picnic basket. He went into the kitchen.
McKnight was standing at the stove. God, no, he was stirring dinner! Grimes’ hands started waving in the air. He was babbling about it being his job and turning down the flame.
“Sir, really, you shouldn’t do that.”
“I don’t want to food to go to waste, Grimes. It smells delicious.”
“I’m sure it is delicious, sir, but you should let me. Really, it’s my…” Grimes’ voice trailed off.
The table was set for two. Two bowls, two sets of silverware, two opened bottles of beer. A loaf of bread between them.
Wrong wrong wrong. “Sir! The chair is only there because your sister was here today,” Grimes heard himself protest. It was true. McKnight’s sister had shown up after school, and Grimes noticed the way her eyebrow quirked up when she looked at the living room and saw that the couch was covered by a spread of ancient Life magazines Grimes was sorting, and the only place anyone could sit was McKnight’s chair. He could tell she was wondering where Grimes sat, and there was no way in hell he was about to admit that he knelt on the floor, unless he was sitting on McKnight’s lap with McKnight’s cock up his ass.
She’d stopped in the dining room to look at some letters, so Grimes had hurried ahead to the kitchen and hastily grabbed another chair from the back porch and put it at the table, so she wouldn’t think Grimes preferred to spend mealtimes on the floor, kneeling between her brother’s legs, nuzzling if not actively sucking his cock.
Not that that’s not what Grimes preferred, but McKnight’s sister really did not need to know that.
McKnight frowned. “Uh, Grimes, look, if we’re going to do this, you know, for a while…”
Oh, shit, no. McKnight had that look. That look Grimes had seen before. Uncomfortable. Ill at ease. Maybe even a little embarrassed. The look people get when the lights are turned on unexpectedly.
Because Grimes wanted to re-enlist. Because they were a permanent thing now. Because a permanent thing is different from a fling, right? Shit!
Grimes centered himself. “Sir,” he explained patiently, “the officer’s mess is always separate from the enlisted men’s.”
McKnight touched Grimes’ forearm lightly. “I know. But you remember what I said a while ago, about you taking care of yourself?”
“So I can take care of you,” Grimes said automatically.
“Yeah… I understand that you …” Another awkward pause.
Just how embarrassed about this was McKnight? Grimes felt a slow panic building up in his chest.
“I can’t have you skipping dinner because I’m home more often. That wouldn’t be fair. I know you liked things at my sister’s place, when it was easier to keep things separate. But if we’re going to live here, in the same house…” McKnight rubbed his fingers around Grimes’ elbow, “…together, then we have to figure out ways to stay out of each other’s way.”
Grimes felt the panic dissipate. McKnight had only been having problems choosing the words. He did understand after all. He always had, hadn’t he?
McKnight put his hands on Grimes’ chest. They drifted down slowly, palms hot as they passed lingered over hard nipples. They drew away from Grimes when they got to waist level. McKnight cleared his throat.
Grimes bit his lip and was determined not to sink down to his knees. Not yet. McKnight wasn’t finished talking.
“Tell you what,” McKnight said as he grabbed a bowl from the table and ladled some chowder into it. “I feel like going outside to have a smoke before dinner. Why don’t you eat,” and Grimes noticed it was a substantial portion McKnight allotted him, “and I’ll be back later for my dinner.”
Grimes nodded and watched McKnight go outside. Okay, he could do this. He sat at the table and started to eat, chewing conscientiously. After all, it was corn chowder, and he didn’t need any inconvenient digestive disorders occurring, not when it was clear that McKnight wanted him to eat dinner so he would have enough energy for whatever McKnight had planned for him for after dinner. Grimes chewed and swallowed some beer and peeked out the window.
Even from this distance, even in the half-dark of evening, Grimes could see that McKnight was far from satisfied. His cock stood out, thick and stubborn, under his pants. That couldn’t be comfortable. Grimes should have gone down on his knees. Just the thought of McKnight’s cock in his mouth made Grimes hard.
McKnight had his face tilted up to catch the last dying rays of the sun. He had his eyes closed, and his hands on his hips, and his feet planted apart enough to make Grimes wish he was between them. Fuck. Grimes closed his eyes, the sensation of McKnight’s hand still on his cock, squeezing and releasing and squeezing, making him weak in the knees.
He finished his dinner and downed the rest of the beer and rinsed his bowl in the sink.
McKnight was beside him, suddenly.
“You finished?” McKnight looked mildly devious.
“Yes, sir. Ate it all, like you ordered.”
McKnight smiled. “Good. Now get in the bathroom. I have to piss.”
Holy shit. Grimes nodded and felt his feet moving toward the bathroom but his head was floating somewhere behind. McKnight had never issued that order before, at least never so overtly.
Grimes managed to keep his hands from shaking too much as he unzipped McKnight and pulled him out. Hard and fat and fucking edible, Grimes thought.
“I don’t think I can piss when I’m this hard,” McKnight confessed with a self-deprecating laugh.
It was a show, all for Grimes’ benefit. Grimes didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, but he was thankful nonetheless as he dropped to the floor.
“I can help you with that, sir,” he breathed over the thick cock. He couldn’t have asked for a better dessert. He spread his knees to get himself at the perfect height and relaxed his throat. He loved the way he had to really open his mouth to fit all of McKnight inside. He loved the way McKnight purred and stroked his head. He loved the tightening of McKnight’s thighs, and the way McKnight urged him on.
“Good boy,” he heard, and his cock jumped in his jeans. “Good fucking boy.”
Grimes twirled his tongue as skillfully as possible, hummed when the fat head was wedged fully in his throat. He never choked on McKnight. His whole body wanted McKnight inside him, as far as he could go.
“Put your hands on your head,” McKnight groaned, and Grimes did, raised them and laced his fingers over his scalp and felt McKnight’s hands tighten around his wrists. McKnight rocked back and forth, fucking deep. Grimes looked up and saw that McKnight had closed his eyes. Thighs shook. Grimes forced his mouth open even more and McKnight came.
“Motherfucker,” he grunted and his cock went huge before it pumped come into Grimes’ mouth.
Grimes closed his throat, pushing the head up and out, so the come would fill his mouth.
It was bitter. McKnight must have had a bad day; he’d had more coffee than usual. Grimes waited until the last few twitches of the softening flesh, the ones that did not produce and semen, and pulled back carefully.
McKnight patted his head. “Hold it,” he growled, and turned to face the toilet.
Grimes mouth was full, so he couldn’t ask. He just shuffled over on his knees and placed his hand over McKnight’s. McKnight lifted his hand away and Grimes held his cock gingerly. McKnight absently scratched at Grimes’ scalp, and then groaned softly. The smell of piss filled the air.
Yeah, lots of coffee. Grimes couldn’t imagine why McKnight was so tense. It wasn’t like he’d been ordered overseas. He hoped McKnight hadn’t been jittery because he was worried about how Grimes would react to him being in town for two years, because Grimes was thrilled. He shifted his grip on McKnight’s penis as the last of the piss dribble out and waited.
McKnight’s hand settled on the back of his neck. “Okay…”
Grimes spat the come out in the toilet and delicately licked the end of McKnight’s cock. Salty, not quite so bitter.
“Jesus,” McKnight hissed under his breath.
Grimes closed his mouth over the head and flicked his tongue over the slit.
McKnight groaned. “Dinner.”
“Sorry, sir.” Grimes tucked McKnight back inside. He was going to zip him up when McKnight’s tongue made a clicking sound.
“Leave it open.”
“Yes, sir!” Grimes got up.
McKnight stared at him with hooded eyes. “Jesus, you don’t even know…” he whispered.
Grimes did, though, and he could feel himself starting to grin.
“Dinner,” McKnight growled again. Grimes washed his hands and went to the kitchen to get the food ready. He slid to the floor easily when McKnight sat down.
This table was much better than the one at McKnight’s sister’s house. It was higher, so there was more room for his head. The chairs were lower, too, so he could actually rest his chin on McKnight’s thigh, but he didn’t. He lay his cheek down and took slow, even breaths.
It was okay. McKnight had licked him, but it wasn’t a problem. He’d just felt like licking. He didn’t want to start cuddling or being best friends or having a regular sort of relationship. He wanted to do something, so he just did it. That was his right. He was the commanding officer, after all. He could do whatever he wanted.
Grimes felt warm inside, warm from the food and the beer and the come in his mouth and the hot thigh under his cheek and the way McKnight ate his dinner without acknowledging Grimes, but Grimes knew he was aware of him at all times. He would always be aware of Grimes, because Grimes was a good boy.
It was easy to feel lazy and satisfied. He gazed at McKnight’s cock, lying in the opening of his pants, softer but not small, still meaty and tempting. Grimes put his lips against the warm skin, let his breath flow over it, let his tongue reach out to lick it. His eyes drifted closed as he licked, slowly, steadily, adjusting his tongue position as McKnight’s cock grew gradually larger. He didn’t even notice when McKnight finished eating.
“Daydreaming?”
Grimes opened his eyes. “Sir?”
McKnight looked amused. “It’s been a long day. I need a shower.”
Shit. Grimes should have realized that. He jumped up, narrowly avoiding the corner of the table. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll get the towels right away.” He hurried to the bathroom and got out fresh towels and the robe he’d bought for McKnight.
McKnight was leaning against the doorway, watching him fuss around the room. “Clothes off. Yours.”
Grimes put down the soap he’d been transferring to the shower stall and shed his clothes.
McKnight closed the door behind him. “Mine,” he said.
Grimes unbuttoned McKnight’s shirt, accidentally letting his fingers trail through wiry chest hairs, over the solid torso. The pants were easy to remove; they were already unzipped. He got on the floor to pull them off each foot. McKnight was naked, and Grimes stayed down on the floor, barely able to look forward, let alone up.
His cock jumped against his thigh. Half-hard all through dinner, he was throbbing now. It was silly to want more after coming so powerfully a little while ago, greedy, but McKnight was looming over him and Grimes was going to get to wash him, so yeah, he wanted more.
Soon they would be in the shower with Grimes spreading soap over the expanse of McKnight’s back. He loved to freely touch all that skin, all that muscle, all that power. Now that McKnight’s hand was better - and it was obviously better after that most spectacular hand job - Grimes didn’t feel the need to be so careful. He would be able to soap up McKnight, and then himself, and then rub his soapy body up against McKnight’s.
He stared down at the floor, willing his cock to stop twitching. He must look like an overeager kid.
“Changed my mind,” McKnight said thoughtfully. “Maybe I’m not so dirty after all.”
Grimes’ heart thudded in his chest. Not dirty at all, he thought. Nowhere near dirty enough.
McKnight grabbed his hair and pulled Grimes close to his crotch. “What do you think? Do I need a shower?”
Grimes opened his mouth and took a hairy testicle inside it. His nose was buried in musky pubic hair. He moved his tongue slowly, until McKnight made a low noise. He let the ball go and nuzzled his nose around McKnight’s cock, between his legs, inhaling deeply. He licked at the inside of McKnight’s thighs.
Sweat and dirt and sex and McKnight, that’s what Grimes tasted and smelled, and McKnight did not need a shower at all, not if he was worried about being offensive, because he was anything but.
McKnight pulled Grimes head back, away from his body. “Well?”
“No, sir,” Grimes panted. “Not at all, sir. But it’s your decision, sir,”
He didn’t want McKnight to think he was opposed to a shower. Or bath.
Grimes eyed the bathtub. He’d scrubbed it that morning, between vacuuming where the new bed was going to go and the arrival of the bed. McKnight seemed to be inspecting it.
McKnight hauled Grimes up to his feet. “You like some things dirty, don’t you?” His face was inches from Grimes’.
Grimes swallowed and nodded.
“Clean house, dirty cock?”
Grimes felt faint.
“Bend over the bathtub.”
What? Grimes stepped up to the high, deep tub and did as he was told. The porcelain gleamed up at him, the taps sparkled chrome.
McKnight reached over and put Grimes’ hands on the grab bar on the far side. Then he reached down and made sure Grimes’ legs were up against the tub. He nudged them wide apart with his feet, and Grimes’ torso lowered until his balls rested on the curved, smooth edge of the tub.
“Good boy,” McKnight breathed in his ear. His cock was hard and insistent against Grimes’ hip. “Now, what can I use for lube?”
Grimes struggled to think clearly. “There’s actual lube, sir. On the top shelf of the cabinet above the sink.” He gripped the bar, feeling the textured surface under his palms. The bar was mounted diagonally, so his right hand was higher than his left. He couldn’t really twist to see what McKnight was doing, but he heard the mirrored door slide open. Shuffling of bottles.
“Yeah, that’ll do fine,” McKnight muttered.
Grimes got even more excited. When McKnight said stuff like that out loud, it was because he was talking himself down, keeping himself in control. And if he had to talk to keep himself in control, it was because he was close to losing it.
Cold, wet fingers stroked down the cleft of Grimes’ ass. Dry, warm fingers played over his left cheek and squeezed him lightly. The first finger inside was a mild shock. The second stretched him slightly. The third followed quickly. McKnight was impatient. Grimes pushed back to let him know it was okay.
McKnight rubbed his hip in slow circles. “Fuck, I love the look of your ass opening up for me,” he said.
Grimes whined.
The fingers twisted and spread. “You’re such a slut for my cock, aren’t you?”
“Oh, god, sir,” Grimes couldn’t help saying.
The porcelain had warmed up under his balls. Now he was wriggling against it and pressing his balls down.
“You’re going to come in the tub,” McKnight said calmly, as he withdrew his fingers, “and then, you’re going to clean up the tub with that pretty tongue of yours.”
Grimes didn’t know what made his face burn more –that he was bent over like that, the way McKnight wiped his fingers clean on Grimes’ hip, or that McKnight had called his tongue pretty. Did he have a pretty tongue, really?
“Your tongue was so pretty, licking my dick after I pissed.”
Fuck! Grimes was going to come without ever getting McKnight’s cock in his ass.
“I’ve always wanted a pretty boy to lick my dick.”
That was it; Grimes had to have the cock right away. “Sir, please, fuck me!”
“No, you have to come in the tub first.”
“Sir,” Grimes moaned. He couldn’t believe it. “I need… please…” Fuck! He was open, he was lubed, he was ready, he had his fucking legs spread and he wanted it so bad he was quivering all over, and McKnight suddenly had the urge to see him do naughty housecleaning?
Something thick and rounded pressed against his open asshole. Not McKnight’s cock, though. He could see McKnight’s cock, beside him, thick and oozing a fat drop of pre-come. His ass was being pushed open. What the fuck was it?
“You want to get fucked? Open up…”
Grimes felt his ass stretching, straining to let it in, whatever it was. It was smooth, and cool at first, warming up quickly, not quite round. It was oval, wider than it was broad. Then McKnight rotated it, so it was broader than it was wide.
“That’s a good boy.”
Grimes breathed deep and tried to relax his asshole. McKnight’s cock was huge, sticking straight out at Grimes, but McKnight was ignoring it. He was stroking Grimes’ lower back and easing whatever it was inside Grimes.
It couldn’t be a dildo. They didn’t own a dildo. A plug? McKnight wouldn’t go out and buy a plug. Hell, McKnight wouldn’t use a plug. It wasn’t his style.
“You’re going to get come all over that nice clean tub,” McKnight whispered. “Can’t let it stay dirty, can you?”
Fuck, shit, can’t, fuck, please! Grimes mind raced around in his head. They hadn’t done any of that sort of thing here. The floors were all old, impossible to get really clean. Too much work had to be done. He hadn’t licked up come from anywhere other than McKnight for so long. He missed it. McKnight missed it too, obviously. This was fucking brilliant. But he wanted McKnight’s come as well. That would make it better than brilliant. That would make it perfect. He could lick that up too.
He squirmed and his ass was filled more. His cock slapped up against his stomach so hard and fast he could hear it.
They both froze.
That had been the distinctive bang of the front door closing. Then McKnight’s sister’s voice, obvious in its loudness, in its warning. “Good evening,” it said.
McKnight hadn’t locked the front door. It was a tacit agreement. She always tried the door first. If the door was locked, McKnight’s sister would ring the bell once. If they didn’t answer, she assume they were out or busy, and would go away. If the door was unlocked, she would open it and call out, just in case they were doing something they didn’t want her to see.
Naked and bent over with his legs spread and something, he hadn’t figured out what yet, halfway up his ass was definitely something Grimes didn’t want McKnight’s sister to see.
Why hadn't McKnight locked the door? She could have walked in any time - while he was kneeling on the kitchen floor licking McKnight's cock, while he was naked on the bed with McKnight squeezing his cock, while McKnight was licking the come up off his body.
Grimes shuddered.
Then he groaned as his ass contracted behind the retreating object. There was a clunk, and Grimes blinked at a lube-slicked shampoo bottle rolling back and forth on the bottom of the bath tub. Fuck, that had been in his ass? He whimpered.
McKnight was pulling his pants on, muttering quietly.
“Sir?”
McKnight draped his body across Grimes’ back, hard cock pressing into his hip. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered in Grimes’ ear. “Don’t move.”
Grimes didn’t.
Continued in: Kiss
Back to: Soldier Porn
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