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Title: 21 - Oral Fixation
Rating: NC-17,
Warning: Sub/dom, kink, uniform!kink, het mentions
Disclaimer: 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.
Oral Fixation
McKnight licks along smooth skin of a taut inner thigh while his hands roam over a full, firm ass. He pauses to suck lightly at the sensitive border between leg and hip.
“Fuck, yeah.”
Tugs on blond pubes with his teeth. Scrapes his blunt nails down the backs of thighs. The thighs spread more.
“Need your tongue.”
And his tongue needs this too. McKnight brings his hands around to hold thighs wide. Licks across a smooth belly. Dips his tongue into a shallow navel. Nibbles his way back down to groin.
His tongue itches for the taste of sweet, fresh come. He flattens it and drags it over the wiry trimmed hair, down to caress the hard little nub… of a clit.
Something is wrong.
His tongue delves through folds of skin, honey-slick and swollen, slides further down into a hot, slippery… vagina?
This can’t be right.
But he’s hard, so hard, and he’s got that clit between his lips and he’s worrying it, flicking his tongue around it, up and down the little shaft, sucking, nibbling.
“Oh, fuck, Danny, don’t stop!”
He’s not stopping… he’s licking… and sucking… and…
McKnight sat up abruptly. What the fuck? He felt the other side of the bed automatically.
No Grimes.
The clock read zero-two-hundred. Grimes should have been in bed. He had been in bed earlier. McKnight had been going through reports from team leaders, and Grimes had been studying a 1903 Treatise on Stairbuilding and Handrailing. McKnight had turned out the light, pulled Grimes against him, and Grimes and sighed and said, “Good night, sir,” peacefully.
Why hadn’t they had sex? McKnight wondered. He supposed they were both tired, and sex wasn’t necessary all the time. Not anymore.
McKnight didn’t know if that was a problem. He’d heard about honeymoons being over. They’d been together, or at least having sex together, for nine months. Was that long enough for a honeymoon to be over?
It wasn’t as if they’d settled into a boring routine or anything. The sex was fantastic. But maybe they’d settled a little. You can’t keep doing brand new things forever, he supposed.
Where the fuck was Grimes?
He pulled on a robe and went downstairs to see if Grimes was in the kitchen. At least he could get a drink. He was parched.
He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, imagining the taste of pussy.
Why would he dream such a weird thing?
By the light of the fridge he could read the quit-smoking chart, which was taped neatly to the center of the freezer door. There were more check marks under ‘Danny’ than there were under ‘John’, but the numbers were steadily decreasing.
He drank some orange juice.
That was the second chart; they’d completed the first one. Grimes had come to him two nights before and shyly asked him to finish filling it out. McKnight’d slowly, meticulously written their names in the appropriate spaces, while Grimes eagerly watched.
That was the last time they’d had sex, he mused. And fuck, had it ever been fantastic. Grimes on his back on the kitchen table with his legs over McKnight’s shoulders. McKnight leaning over with his hand on the top of Grimes’ head so it wouldn’t bang against the wall.
McKnight ran his hand over the surface of the table. He was imagining that it was still warm. Only imagining.
There was a soft flare of light from the back room.
Grimes was sitting sideways on the chair with his knees tucked under his chin. One bare arm wrapped around his folded legs, the other flopped to the side with a lit cigarette dangling between two fingers. His naked back was to the door.
“I hope you marked that on the chart,” McKnight said, teasing.
It was not like Grimes to not respond.
McKnight stepped onto the rug.
Oh. Fuck. Grimes must have been really distracted because he’d put on McKnight’s sweat pants by accident. They were bunched at his hips and drooped down a bit at the side revealing a pale stretch of hip.
McKnight couldn’t look. His dick was already hard from looking at the kitchen table and the smoking chart. And from the dream.
Fucking dream. At least the orange juice had washed away the pussy taste.
“Grimes?”
Grimes jumped. “Sir!” He tried to straighten his legs, but he’d wormed his bare foot between the cushion and the arm of the chair. He managed to shove his ass back against the other arm, which tugged down the pants a bit more, uncovering the top curve of a round ass cheek.
McKnight had never before truly appreciated the roominess of his chair.
Grimes twisted anxiously. “I‘m sorry, sir. I’ll get out of your way.” He sounded distraught.
“Hey, it’s no big deal. I wasn’t planning to sit anyway. I had a weird dream and when I woke up you were gone.”
Grimes turned his head away, but not before McKnight noticed his eyes were a bit puffy.
“What’s wrong? Why’d you get up?”
“Nothing, sir! I don’t want to intrude.”
Intrude? On whom? “What do you think you’re intruding on?”
Grimes shrugged and wriggled his foot free. “I wouldn’t know, sir. But you seemed to be enjoying him.”
Fuck. Grimes was sort of… cute when he pouted like that. But who was ‘him’? Aw, shit. What had McKnight done in his sleep?
“I was having a dream,” he tried to explain. “What ‘him’?” He dropped his hand on Grimes’ shoulder because it looked like Grimes was going to get up and if he did that McKnight wouldn’t be able to speak coherently. As soon as McKnight’s pants slid past Grimes’ hipbones, McKnight would lose it and be unable to explain anything. If he could explain it at all.
“Raymond,” Grimes said gloomily.
Fuck! Shit! How the hell was McKnight going to explain that?
Grimes took a drag off the cigarette and his cheeks hollowed just enough to make McKnight’s cock twitch.
McKnight had no choice. He had to tell the truth. He knelt on the rug, keeping the hand on Grimes’ shoulder.
“She,” he said. “Claudia Raymond. A second lieutenant, when I was a captain and stationed in Berlin.”
Grimes shrugged as if to dislodge McKnight’s hand. Not likely.
“It was years ago,” McKnight added. “And I do not miss her.”
“That must be why you moan her name in your sleep.”
Grimes looked stricken when he realized what he’d just said. He shoved the cigarette in his mouth. The way his lips puckered around the filter was positively obscene.
“Oral fixation,” McKnight said.
Grimes butted out. “Sir?”
“Oral fixation. From cutting down on smoking.”
“You want one?” Grimes reached for the pack, revealing a half-inch more of upper ass.
“No, I need to do something with my mouth. It’s not just nicotine withdrawal. My mouth needs to do things.”
McKnight looked at Grimes’ naked chest and the freckles on his shoulders and the swell of his ass. He licked his lips.
Grimes dropped the cigarette pack.
“I must have dreamt about Claudia because I used to go down on her so much.”
Grimes looked to be in shock.
“Had no choice, really. She demanded it. Often.”
Grimes looked beyond shocked.
“It wasn’t like it is between us,” McKnight explained. “It wasn’t like… it wasn’t anywhere near as good as it is with us. But it was okay. The going down was okay. I mean, it keeps your mouth active and it feels good. You know.”
Grimes shook his head sharply.
“You never went down on a chick?”
Grimes’ eyes got really big.
“Did you ever even sleep with a girl?”
Funny. McKnight had never thought to ask. He’d assumed Grimes must have. Good-looking, great ass, great cock. He must have had a girlfriend in high school. Or maybe girls didn’t pay attention to that sort of thing.
Grimes gave a short, harsh laugh. “Ha, well, that’s what got me into trouble.” He snapped his mouth shut.
What the hell? McKnight raised an eyebrow. “Grimes?”
Grimes wriggled nervously.
“What kind of trouble?”
Grimes stared up at the ceiling.
McKnight cleared his throat.
“Oh, you know,” Grimes said. “The usual kind of trouble.”
Grimes knocked up a chick?
“Only not. She lied to get me to marry her.”
Grimes was married?
“She got an annulment after six weeks. She… said I was no good in bed.”
Well. If he never went down on her…
“I wanted to go down on her. I know I could have done it well. But she thought it was gross.”
Gross? Grimes’ mouth on someone’s genitals? Impossible.
Grimes was bright red with embarrassment.
“It’s not gross,” McKnight said, a little bit stunned.
Grimes pouted.
The pout was definitely sexy.
“Obviously,” Grimes said.
Damn. Not the dream again!
“It’s just like using your mouth on anyone,” McKnight said, wanting desperately to use his mouth on Grimes.
“I’m sure you’re very good at it, sir.”
“Why?”
Grimes turned an even brighter red. “Well, you’re good at everything, sir.”
McKnight guffawed. No he wasn’t.
“I meant, because you’re so good at kissing.” This was said in a quiet voice, as if talking about kissing was the most personal thing Grimes could do. Which was ridiculous, since Grimes regularly said stuff about having his ass fucked and wanting to suck McKnight’s cock and other way more dirty things. But kissing was intimate.
Now that was a perfect opportunity to kiss Grimes. First, though, McKnight tilted Grimes back and pulled his legs over the arm of the chair so he was laid out across it like dessert.
The fucking honeymoon was back on.
McKnight wanted this to be slow. Controlled. To savor every second of it. And he would, as long as he didn’t look down. Because if he looked down, he would see where his own sweat pants were shoved down to reveal a hipbone. Smooth, pale and a little bit jutting.
He wanted to lick it.
“Ahhh! Sir!”
He’d given into the impulse almost immediately. He licked across it, then fastened his lips to the skin at the highest point and sucked. He could tell he was bringing up a mark. He sucked a touch harder.
Grimes squeaked when McKnight let go.
“Was that…” Grimes panted. “Is that part of the oral fixation?”
McKnight looked down at the reddened hipbone. Panned up Grimes’ chest. Noted how tempting that little indent in his chin was. Settled his gaze on Grimes’ mouth.
“Stick out your tongue.”
Grimes stuck it out. Pink and moist, a little bit pointed, the tip curled slightly upward.
Sucking on it proved to be immensely satisfying.
Grimes flailed beneath him. McKnight squeezed Grimes’ shoulder and put his other hand on his cock.
Grimes stopped flailing and started pushing his cock up into McKnight’s hand.
So satisfying McKnight was tempted to come right then.
This was so much better than any dream. In fact, he now knew the dream had not indicated a repressed desire for Claudia, or for pussy in general, but that he should use his mouth more. It ordered him to do so.
McKnight was a military man. He lived to follow orders. And issue orders.
“Do you trust me?” he asked after breaking away from Grimes’ mouth but not breaking contact with his cock.
Grimes nodded.
“I mean, really trust me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So you would follow any order?”
Grimes’ face screwed up. So perplexed. He couldn’t possibly calculate all the options.
Grimes’ face relaxed and he looked at McKnight trustingly. “You would never knowingly order me to do anything that would hurt me,” he said, close to breathlessness.
“Good boy,” McKnight whispered.
Now what? McKnight could order anything he wanted.
“I order you to stop doubting.”
“What?”
“Stop doubting me.”
“You can’t order that!”
That’s what Grimes had said about McKnight ordering Grimes’ asshole to go on two weeks leave. And look how well that had turned out.
“You can’t order emotions.”
“Yes, I can.” Besides, doubt wasn’t an emotion. It was a reaction to emotion. You get scared in battle. No one orders you not to be scared. You overcome it. “I’m ordering you to never doubt me, because no matter how you misunderstand something or worry, there is no reason for you to suspect me, or worry about us, or feel like I want anyone else in the whole world.”
Couldn’t get any clearer than that.
“And if you do ever feel the slightest bit threatened or suspicious or nervous, I order you to tell me so I can allay your fears.”
Grimes nodded wordlessly.
McKnight studied him, all laid out across the chair. So delicious.
“So. Got any negative emotions you need allayed?” McKnight asked with an exaggerated waggle of his eyebrows.
Grimes’ eyes grew huge.
“I sense a little disbelief,” McKnight said. Good. He couldn’t wait to allay it.
He tilted Grimes’ head back over the arm of the chair and attached his lips to Grimes’ throat, just beneath his jaw. Grimes’ purr vibrated under his lips as he slowly sucked a dark mark on the faintly stubbly skin.
He didn’t care if anyone really believed his sister put it there. He rocked back on his heels and watched it move as Grimes’ swallowed.
“See?” Grimes said weakly. “Good with your mouth, sir.”
Fucking right he was. And he was going to get better and better. With practice.
He thought about ordering Grimes to stand, so he could watch his sweat pants fall. They would cling, at first, to narrow hips. Maybe their descent would be hampered momentarily by the upper swell of Grimes’ ass. But fall they would.
Then McKnight was nearly bowled over by a series of visions.
Visions of Grimes in uniform.
McKnight’s uniform.
Grimes in loose khaki – no, desert camo – with the sleeves rolled up and the waist cinched tight with a belt. Nothing underneath. McKnight wouldn’t want to waste any time.
Grimes barefoot and bare-chested, wearing nothing but a pair of dress trousers, which hung precariously off his hips, and slipped as he reached up to adjust McKnight’s hat on his nonregulation hair.
Grimes wearing just the jacket of a dress uniform, medals and shit pulling it sideways on his slender frame, the buttons done up at the top, but not at the bottom, giving him an opening from which to protrude, just the tip of his penis peeking out, framed by dark blue.
Khaki shirt and boots. Maybe a pair of kneepads. No, scrap the shirt. Just the boots and the kneepads.
Grimes in a desert camo hat. The floppy brim shading his eyes. Nothing else. Lying on his stomach on the bed.
McKnight bent over and tongued Grimes’ navel. Abs tightened under his lips. Grimes stifled a giggle and squirmed.
“Would you be more comfortable if I licked you somewhere else?” McKnight asked, barely pausing his task.
“I’d be more comfortable if I was doing the licking, sir!” Grimes answered, with a hint of panic in his voice.
McKnight thought about that for about a half second.
Tough. McKnight poked his tongue back into Grimes’ navel.
“Sir! It tickles!”
All this time and McKnight hadn’t even known Grimes was ticklish there. Or at least ticklish there when licked. That was gross misconduct on the part of McKnight.
Grimes’ hand flew to his mouth, hiding his giggle.
No, that was the gross misconduct. Hiding something that make Grimes look like that.
"Sirrrrrrrrr," Grimes whined.
“Quiet, Grimes, I’m satisfying my oral cravings.” He went back to tongue fucking Grimes’ navel. The giggle returned, but swiftly changed to a full-throated moan. Grimes arched his back, offering himself to McKnight.
McKnight thought about all the times he’d tried to suck Grimes’ cock. It almost put Grimes into a panic every time. It made no sense.
Grimes loved to serve, and if what McKnight wanted was to suck Grimes’ cock, then Grimes should gladly give it up. He certainly had no trouble spreading his legs and letting McKnight do whatever he wanted when it came to fucking.
But then, there was that time McKnight had been touching Grimes’ ass and had playfully slapped him and Grimes had jumped a mile and acted like McKnight had threatened him and McKnight got him to admit it freaked him out a bit because of something bad that had happened. He wouldn’t go into details about the bad thing, but he did say he wasn’t sure if he could ever be comfortable with that sort of thing and that wasn’t a problem for McKnight at all because he wasn’t into the spanking thing.
Or at least he wasn’t into the spanking thing as far as he knew.
He couldn’t really be sure, because he was, apparently, into all sorts of things he’d never known he was into.
A year before, he would have had a hard time believing that it was incredibly mindblowingly erotic to have someone hold his dick while he pissed. And it wasn’t like no one had ever held his dick when he pissed before; when he hurt his shoulder and his other hand was burned, he’d needed help pissing. Of course, the nurse had been an okay-looking woman, and she’d been very dispassionate and clinical about things. And Grimes was an extremely attractive man who’s dick-holding manner was anything but clinical. His fingers teased when they held. His palm caressed. And he watched. Avidly.
McKnight, in spite of his commanding tendencies, had never actually thought about watching someone jerk off onto the floor. He certainly hadn’t thought about anyone jerking off onto the floor just so they could lick it up. Now it seemed normal. Even mundane. But not, because nothing was ever really mundane when Grimes was involved. Grimes was always, endlessly fascinating, even if he was doing something totally mundane, like washing the floor or making dinner or breathing.
McKnight had never, in all his years in the military, considered battle dress sexy. It was required gear, not flattering. But the mere thought of Grimes in McKnight’s uniform, or his own uniform, or anyone’s uniform… he loved the look of Grimes in plain jeans and a t-shirt, but in uniform he would be… for fuck’s sake, McKnight wanted Grimes to wear McKnight’s uniform and act all slutty.
He wondered if Grimes had kept any of his gear. If Grimes would consent to trying on one of McKnight’s uniforms. If he had a helmet lying around anywhere.
All those things he’d never considered sexy now drove him up the wall.
Grimes draped over the chair like this, in McKnight’s sweat pants. They were army issue, actually. Like a uniform. Close enough to a uniform.
But McKnight discovering he liked new things had nothing to do with Grimes being reminded of bad experiences.
He tried to imagine something that could have happened during a blowjob that could have turned Grimes against having his dick sucked. Maybe someone bit him.
No, Grimes would know McKnight would never do anything like that. He would be scared of teeth, not blowjobs.
After all, he could understand someone having a bad experience and getting turned off the spanking thing. Someone could have been overeager, got carried away. But it didn’t stop Grimes from enjoying it when his ass was touched. In fact, he seemed to really like it.
That was convenient, because McKnight loved grabbing Grimes’ ass. He loved rubbing his hands all over that pale soft skin, and squeezing firm muscles, and tracing the exquisite curves of it with his…
McKnight wanted Grimes’ ass. Immediately.
But not in the chair.
He stopped licking Grimes’ belly and got up. “Upstairs,” he said thickly. His tongue felt swollen, like it had a hard on. “Upstairs on the bed.”
McKnight’s tongue ached, itched, yearned, tingled. More more more. His lips actually twitched when Grimes got up clutching the baggy sweats to his stomach. McKnight followed him up the stairs, watching the soft gray fleece hug Grimes’ ass.
He was thirsty. And hungry. It was time for dessert.
Continued in: 22 Clean
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