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Title: 25 - Let Go
Author: Haleth
Fandom/Pairing: BHD, McKnight/Grimes
Rating: NC-17,
Warning: Sub/Dom. Ingestion of body fluids. Position which, in most of use, would result in at least a pulled muscle, but Grimes is limb
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.
Let Go
Motherfucker.
Jesus Fucking Christ.
This was going to be Grimes’ first blowjob, as the recipient, and it was up to McKnight to make it really good.
It was also McKnight’s first blowjob, as the blow-er.
Fuck.
He couldn’t fuck. It would be easy to fuck. Too easy. Grimes would love it. McKnight would just flip him over and plunge right in and Grimes would flail a bit and spread his legs and beg for it harder.
He couldn’t jerk him off either. Also too easy. Wrap his meaty hand around that slender cock and squeeze, stroke, tease, order him to come, will him to come, make him come all over McKnight’s hand so McKnight could watch him lick the come off, feel lips and tongue and teeth on his fingers, his knuckles, his palm.
Nope. McKnight was going to suck Grimes’ cock.
McKnight just hoped he wouldn’t come in his pants before Grimes came in his mouth.
That would be very non-commanding-officer-like.
He wasn’t going to get off easy with a frenzied rush to the bedroom and fumble in the dark, either. The lights were on. They were looking at each other.
They had not gone upstairs right away because they were both sort of shaky and even though Grimes had said what he wanted and McKnight wanted it too, they were being cautious. Maybe too cautious. McKnight suspected Grimes was giving him time to back out of the deal. McKnight wouldn’t allow that, but every passing moment added to his anxiety.
McKnight made a cup of tea for Grimes. Which was funny because McKnight, and everyone else, associated Grimes with coffee. That was only natural, since Grimes did make the best damn coffee McKnight had ever tasted. But Grimes associated tea with calmness, with the end of traumatic experiences, and McKnight wanted him relaxed and receptive, so tea it was.
While the water boiled, Grimes sat silently, watching McKnight mop up the beer that he’d exploded all over the table. McKnight insisted on doing it himself, although he knew Grimes would be cleaning it again in the morning anyway, doing it properly.
Grimes drew one foot up onto the edge of the chair, which made his bathrobe fall open to expose his leg, right hip, and the shadow of his balls and cock, barely visible.
McKnight dropped the whole paper towel roll in the spilt beer.
Fuck, he was beautiful. A bit too slender, but it suited him. His collarbones stood out, looking delicate next to the strong shoulders. His limbs were wiry, but not thin. The muscles stood out when they were taxed. Solid, if not huge. It was around his ribs that the skinniness was noticeable. They stood out, but not outrageously so, and his stomach was flat and a bit furry, and McKnight wanted to kiss it but Grimes was hugging his knee to his chest and staring at the kettle. Which was whistling really loud.
McKnight poured the water into the teapot, with Grimes giving instructions. “Water first, just a few ounces… swirl it to warm the pot… empty it in the sink… two tea bags… now the water… don’t forget the lid.”
Had McKnight really never made tea before? He’d boiled teabags in water over open flame, warming his freezing fingers over the tin cup. He’d tossed a teabag in a mug. Tea in a teapot? He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter anyway. Just the sound of Grimes’ voice was giving him shivers. He tried to think of a dozen other things he could do for the first time, just so Grimes could instruct him on the proper procedure.
Like giving a blowjob.
He didn’t want Grimes instructing him on that. He wanted Grimes in so much bliss that speech would be impossible.
McKnight poured the tea and put the cup in front of Grimes. “Uh, milk?” he asked.
Grimes shook his head and took a sip. He jumped a bit, burned his tongue. McKnight bent down to lick across Grimes’ tea-flavored lips, soothe the burn. Grimes went weak beneath him and licked back, their tongues touching delicately.
Kissing could go on all night, McKnight decided. He could ignore his cock, ignore the ache in his balls, ignore everything but Grimes’ mouth and lips and the way he hummed when McKnight sucked lightly on the tip of his tongue.
Maybe another night. McKnight straightened up and ran his hand through Grimes’ hair. It was sticking up wildly, which always made Grimes look so boyish it made McKnight feel a bit old. “Drink up. You’re going to need your fluids.”
Grimes’ leg dropped to the floor and his hips rose off the chair, just enough to make McKnight groan. He could see Grimes’ cock clearly, half-hard and resting between his legs as if seeking shelter. McKnight dropped and nuzzled the warm vee at the top of Grimes’ thighs. Smelled so good. Clean with a hint of sweat and all Grimes.
He kissed the shaft, buried his nose in the dark curls, resting his forehead against Grimes’ belly.
“Don’t change your mind now. You said I could have anything…” Grimes’ voice was hushed. “Unless…”
Unless he didn’t want to. That was ridiculous. Absurd. He’d been trying to get his mouth on Grimes’ dick for months. Since the night he broke his arm. Forever. Not consistently, but he’d thought about it ever since then. Sometimes when he was alone, away, alone in his quarters, missing Grimes, he would think about it. He rubbed his palms up and down Grimes’ thighs and felt the muscles tense.
“Sir, I’m really not comfortable with you on your knees.”
Fair enough. McKnight wasn’t all that comfortable on the hard kitchen floor. He thought about Grimes spread out on the bed, legs wide, arms up over his head… no, he didn’t want Grimes restraining himself too much for this, not in what would seem like such a formal manner. He was going to suggest going upstairs when Grimes’ eyes flicked, probably unconsciously, toward the back room.
McKnight saw, in a flash of brilliant lust-induced vision, Grimes sitting in the armchair naked, with his legs slung over the sides, and McKnight on the nice, thick, comfortable rug, with his head in Grimes’ lap. And he was almost floored by the vision.
But Grimes didn’t want McKnight to kneel.
Tough.
Grimes got to have what he wanted, but McKnight had never said anything about how he would get it. That should be up to the commanding officer, damn it. And he was going to get Grimes in that chair if he had to order it directly.
“I’d like a smoke,” he said, trying to sound mild and nonchalant.
Grimes wouldn’t deny him a cigarette, would he?
Grimes nodded. “But I do the kneeling.”
Okay. Well. McKnight couldn’t argue. By the time he’d opened his mouth to disagree, Grimes was already in the back room, and the bathrobe was on the floor, halfway between the kitchen table and the door. By the time McKnight got to the doorway, Grimes was kneeling, naked, on the rug, stretching his back so the line of his spine stood out starkly.
There was no rule about Grimes not going down on McKnight first, was there?
As soon as McKnight sat down, Grimes dove into his lap. Aw, fuck, this was just going to make McKnight feel inferior, because he would never, ever be able to suck a cock like that.
Grimes was groping for the cigarette pack at the same time he deepthroated McKnight. And there was a lot to deep throat, because the instant McKnight saw Grimes on the floor, naked like that, every spare cc of blood in his body had rushed to his cock.
There was a cigarette being held up in front of his face.
Right. That’s why he was supposed to be here in this room. Motherfucker. How the hell did Grimes get his tongue to do that around the head of McKnight’s cock when his lips were securely fastened so near the base?
Grimes’ mouth stopped moving.
He was waiting for McKnight to light the cigarette.
McKnight fumbled for the lighter and inhaled deeply. The smoke was grounding. Familiar. Calming. Suck, inhale, exhale.
He stubbed out the half-finished smoke. Damn it, he’d come in here to do a job. Grimes had completely distracted him, and while McKnight would defy any man on earth to not be distracted by Grimes’ mouth, it irked him that he could see this being an ongoing thing, him saying he’d suck Grimes’ cock and Grimes agreeing but then letting him off the hook, distracting him with sheer suction power, and that was not going to happen.
“On the fucking chair,” he ordered. “Now.”
Grimes pouted a bit when he drew his lips up and off McKnight’s cock, but he got up on the chair as McKnight slid off it and down to the rug.
“Spread your legs.”
That was an order Grimes seemed to have no trouble obeying.
“Wider.”
He spread them. Oh, did he spread them. McKnight helped, pushing thighs up until they were firmly on the arms of the chair, spread them further until Grimes’ ass lifted up off the seat and he was displayed for McKnight, perfectly.
His cock was still only semi-erect, but McKnight didn’t take that personally. Grimes was conflicted. In a very unfamiliar situation. Everything was in disarray. He couldn’t be expected to have a raging hard on. His cock draped over his large balls warmly. Heavily.
McKnight settled into a comfortable kneeling position and put his palms on the insides of Grimes’ thighs. “Good boy,” he said firmly.
Grimes whimpered.
“Can you put your hands on your knees?”
It would put more of the stress on Grimes’ thighs, but he did it.
“Keep them there.”
The effort would keep Grimes from freaking out. He would have to concentrate on not letting go.
Just listening to Grimes talk about his training had made McKnight want to test it. It had seemed wrong, exploitative, to think about Grimes restraining himself when Grimes had just revealed his abuse at the hands of another, but Grimes obviously found it acceptable because his cock was starting to fill up.
There could have been a million reasons for that, but McKnight would have put his money on three of them.
First, Grimes was obeying. And obeying made Grimes hard.
Second, he had his legs spread obscenely wide, and being put on display, particularly with his legs spread, made Grimes really hard.
Third, McKnight’s face was inches from Grimes’ cock, and McKnight was letting out puffs of warm, moist air and breathing in Grimes’ scent, and McKnight knew how that felt.
He blew over Grimes’ balls and watched them, the testicles squiriming within the loose sac.
Grimes’ cock moved to the left as it filled up.
Everything was in slow motion.
McKnight did think about ordering Grimes to tell him what to do next. It would certainly help McKnight, who wasn’t entirely sure how to proceed, but it would have been too much for Grimes.
McKnight touched Grimes’ cock lightly, enjoying the satiny skin, the firmness, the gentle curve, the heat. The skin stretched as Grimes grew, the head was shiny. When McKnight squeezed it there was a familiar sponginess, springing it back to shape when his fingers left it. He squeezed again and a drop of fluid came out, clear and shining.
Grimes twisted his hips slightly and whined.
McKnight stuck out his tongue and touched the slit.
Grimes thrashed.
“Sir, I don’t know if this is such a good idea after all.”
No, he couldn’t change his mind now. Not now that McKnight had taken that tantalizing first taste. This was a great idea. It was a fucking brilliant idea.
Grimes was just worried about exploding and coming all over McKnight’s face, that was all. McKnight could understand that. Come all over his face would hardly be dignified, even if Grimes licking the come off his face would be incredibly hot. No, he didn’t really want come all over his face.
There is a solution to every problem. If he kept the head of Grimes’ cock in his mouth at all times, then Grimes’ come could not go anywhere but in his mouth, which was where McKnight wanted it. Never one to let a solution wallow in bureaucracy, McKnight implemented his plan without delay.
Grimes moaned.
Grimes wasn’t all that wide in the head, and McKnight was grateful for that because he was finding even Grimes’ elegant, slender cock a bit hard to handle. How the hell could Grimes’ get McKnight’s beer can of a cock all the way in his mouth like that? Jesus. McKnight refused to think about what kind of practice Grimes might have had.
McKnight drew on his personal history. He’d done his share of chemical and biological warfare training over the years. Some of the breathing apparatus fit inside the mouth, strange attachments to gas masks and the like. He knew that sense of being suffocated by the very apparatus that was delivering the clean air. It was a sensation that simply had to be overcome, like cold or pain or fear. Plenty of air was present; he only had to know how to access it.
When he breathed calmly through his nose, he felt his throat relax. Much better. That was the trick. He relaxed his jaw, let his tongue slide under the head.
He could feel the blood, the energy, surging through Grimes. The steady pulse. The quivering in his balls. The tightening of his thighs. Every time he moved his tongue, Grimes’ body hummed. Zinged. So fucking alert. On edge. Responsive.
McKnight got so into it he never wanted it to end. He wanted to spend the whole night sliding his lips up and down the hard shaft, listening to Grimes whimper and gasp. He touched skin and hair, stoked hard and soft, petted and soothed and pushed and exacerbated.
But he did want it to end because he wanted Grimes to come in his mouth. He could always do it again, after Grimes recovered. He could do it over and over all night. Maybe not here. Maybe he could move Grimes upstairs and lay him out on the bed properly, and while he was recovering, McKnight could taste him all over, starting at his toes and working up to the cock again, all the way up to kiss his mouth and suck his tongue and then back down. He wanted to make Grimes dizzy with pleasure. He would love to make Grimes pass out from pleasure, but not, because that would be too scary, and the only thing that scared him was something bad happening to Grimes.
What if he didn’t like Grimes coming in his mouth? He didn’t know why he wouldn’t, since he certainly liked making Grimes come with his mouth, but if he didn’t like it, he didn’t have to do it again. Grimes would understand. And if he did like it, he could do it over and over and over again.
He pulled his mouth off Grimes.
“Good boy,” he said, taking a big breath. “You’re such a good boy, obeying orders, keeping your position so well, such a good soldier.”
Grimes strained, head tilted back, abdominals tight, hands gripping his knees.
McKnight slid his hand under Grimes’ ass.
Oh, fuck, why hadn’t he thought of this before? The feel of ass, muscles clenched as they held him in place, hard globes hovering in the air. Grimes’ asshole was going to be so tight.
McKnight slid his fingers in his mouth, kept his other hand on Grimes’ cock, stroking gently, almost too gently.
“Now, keep being a good boy for me. I need to taste your come.” He put his mouth back on Grimes’ cock at the same instant he drove two fingers up into his asshole.
“Sir! Oh, fuck! Sir!”
McKnight curled the fingers and stroked.
Grimes shook and howled.
Oh, fuck, it was unbelievable. McKnight’s cheeks hollowed to touch the sides of Grimes’ cock, and that made the head touch the roof of his mouth and the tight ring of muscle clench around his fingers.
McKnight growled. This was so intimate, so personal, to have Grimes in his mouth, to hold Grimes’ desire and his need and his lust and his soul inside, to feel them tremble under his lips, against his tongue.
Grimes was pulsing his hips, not in and out of McKnight’s mouth but up and down on his fingers. McKnight wished Grimes would push into his mouth. He wanted to be fucked. He moved his head so Grimes’ cock would go in and out, so he was fucking Grimes with his mouth.
Grimes writhed and moaned McKnight’s name and came.
McKnight could not have adequately prepared for it. He was glad he hadn’t tried, because it exceeded any expectations his imagination could have come up with. Even though he knew exactly what was going to happen, he could never have known how it would feel to have that cock throb in his mouth and the come flood out and to have Grimes’ hands fly to his shoulders and squeeze hard, to have Grimes’ come warming him and filling him.
He felt like he would never be hungry again.
Grimes’ cock was still hard, but in a different way. McKnight drew his lips off it gently, knowing how sensitive it would be, and placed it carefully so that is hung between Grimes’ still-spread legs, swollen, wet, vulnerable.
Grimes’ started to breathe again, gasping for air.
McKnight licked his lips and found a drop of come at one side. He swallowed it greedily.
He delicately pulled his fingers out of Grimes’ ass.
“Oh,” Grimes said. “Oh.”
McKnight shifted his knees. The carpet was pretty comfortable, actually.
Grimes slithered down onto his lap for the second time that night. His genitals pressed damply against McKnight’s stomach. He flexed his fingers against McKnight’s delts.
McKnight was going to do this again. Soon. Not yet. Grimes was so peaceful in his arms, he couldn’t bear to let him go. He hunched his hips so his hard cock wouldn’t poke up and make Grimes think he had to do anything about it just yet.
“John, I want to take you upstairs.”
Grimes nodded.
“I want to touch you everywhere.”
“You just did.” Grimes sighed across McKnight’s chest. “Oh, sir. You have no idea.”
McKnight smiled. Oh, yes he did. He knew exactly. Grimes had been doing that to him since day one. McKnight was the one who had been surrendering all along. Grimes had to know that. He had to know how utterly helpless he made McKnight. But maybe not. Maybe Grimes was so used to being taken from.
No, he knew. McKnight had told him. He’d always found ways to tell him, but tonight he’d told him so clearly he would never forget it. Or so McKnight hoped.
Grimes shifted, hands restless on McKnight's shoulders. “I’m sorry, sir,” he whispered.
“For what?”
“I let go.”
“You sure as hell did, John,” McKnight said and gathered Grimes in his arms.
Upstairs could wait a few more minutes.
Next: 26 Solo
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