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Title: 29 - Too Far
Author: Haleth
Fandom/Pairing: BHD, McKnight/Grimes
Rating: NC-17,
Warning: Sub/dom,
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.
Note: Mlyn wanted McKnight to wank. McKnight was happy to oblige.
Too Far
The paper booties were going too far. McKnight felt ridiculous, shuffling around his own house with the elasticized paper over his combat boots. It was overkill and unnecessary to treat the house like a crime scene.
Not that it wasn’t a crime scene. Anything that attacked Grimes deserved to be investigated, hunted down and prosecuted to the full extent of McKnight’s considerable ire.
But the kid had a tendency to go overboard.
“Colleague from the university”. Shit. He was younger than Grimes, skinnier than Grimes, too, with twig-like limbs and mad-scientist hair, and the highly suspect surname of “Bandhu”. McKnight would bet his new insignia the kid was a cousin or nephew of the doctor, and he was no mycologist. He was a mycology student.
But Grimes and Linda seemed to like Ravi, and he had sworn he could clear the mold out of the house better than anyone else. All he’d asked for was a few days to take core samples and study the spread of the organism in the dirt of the cellar floor and through the rest of the house.
There was a spider’s web of string and tagged stakes spread out from where crates of old paperwork dating back to the Civil War had sat on the dirt floor safely for years. Safe until the flood. It was a testimony to the solidity of the cottage that a building so close to water could stay so dry so long. The mold had been there, insidious, waiting all those years, until it got wet enough to reproduce, with devastating results.
Roz bewailed the destruction of the documents, which evidently included discharge papers from the Confederate Army. McKnight would have been happy to torch the crates. But Ravi hauled them away, sealed in plastic, to do whatever you do to test for mold and shit in the lab.
Linda refused to let McKnight blame himself. She’d hauled him home from the hospital and sat him at the kitchen table with a shot of Bourbon and it hadn’t taken long for him to confess.
Not everything. He hadn’t said why they’d both been too distracted to turn off the tap. He hadn’t gone into details about Grimes on his hands and knees in the dirt, mud-covered ass in the air, and how one fuck hadn’t been enough at all, and how they didn’t even notice that the shower wasn’t very strong because, really, they weren’t about to notice the low water pressure when Grimes was on his knees, still wearing the shredded jeans, sucking the cock that had just fucked his ass… twice.
But he did take full, crushing responsibility for the mishap. And he told her that he not only felt responsible for Grimes’ illness, but he felt responsible for Grimes in general, and that he liked feeling that way because he was totally, hopelessly, helplessly in love, and he would rather have his fingernails ripped out one at a time than ever see Grimes sick or scared or in pain ever again.
Linda seemed to understand. “He’s a wonderful man,” she’d said. “I’d probably fall for him too, if he wasn’t so in love with you.”
McKnight had not really dared to consider that. The thought that Grimes might be in love with him too seemed… volatile. It made the inside of his head burn.
But Linda insisted it was obvious.
She might have been mistaking obedience and willingness to please for love. To an outsider, they might seem the same.
But Grimes’d told her. In the ER, when they started doing test for things that sounded scary, he’d told her.
“You have to make sure Danny knows how much I love him.”
And she’d told Grimes to tell Danny himself.
And he’d said that was pretty clichéd, coming from an English teacher.
And she’d said it was pretty cheesy to be professing his true love for someone in case something bad happened when it was obvious he was going to be fine, even though at that point it hadn’t been obvious he was going to be fine, and that he wasn’t that sick and certainly wasn’t anywhere near…
At that point in the story, Linda had started crying and McKnight had to comfort her, which, in retrospect, she’d probably done on purpose so that McKnight would have to take charge and be all manly.
McKnight really loved his big sister. She always knew just what to do to make him feel better.
When they’d brought Grimes home the next afternoon, Grimes had sat in the living room while the McKnights made sure his room was safe. Fresh sheets, laundered in hot water and fragrance-free detergent, dried to within an inch of their existence, rug vacuumed, no dust, and new, hypoallergenic pillows that Roz brought over after work.
Grimes had fallen asleep in the chair, watching the fish swim around and around in the tank. McKnight had considered carrying him up the stairs, but Grimes would have woken and been mortified, so McKnight woke him gently and helped him up the stairs.
“You should have carried him up the stairs,” Roz said when McKnight came down to get a supper tray for Grimes.
“He’s heavier than he looks,” Linda told her.
But not as heavy as he used to be. So McKnight was wracked by guilt once more.
Grimes ate the plain, rather unexciting food dutifully. Nothing with any kind of mold or fungus or yeast. No cheese, no mushrooms, no bread, even. For a little while. McKnight hovered anxiously.
“Sir, please, don’t fuss. I’m just tired,” Grimes said, pouting.
McKnight tried to be less obtrusive.
Grimes slept while McKnight watched. Eventually, McKnight must have fallen asleep, on top of the covers, with one hand laid protectively on Grimes’ hip. He woke in the morning to the exquisite sensation of Grimes’ breath on his neck, and soft hair tickling his nose.
Grimes mumbled something in his sleep and nuzzled McKnight’s throat.
The stubble.
Grimes still hadn’t shaved.
“Motherfucker,” McKnight muttered.
Grimes looked up at him groggily. “Sir?”
“Don’t shave.”
Grimes pouted.
Fuck. The pouting was going to KILL McKnight.
“It looks scruffy.”
“I like it,” McKnight explained.
“It’s sharp.”
“Only for a little while,” McKnight said. Silently adding, ‘and I like it.’
“And it’s so… it’s so red.”
“It’s golden,” McKnight assured him. “And I want to feel it on my thighs.”
That was the selling point.
Grimes sighed. “I have to go…” He struggled to sit up, but got hit by dizziness and lay down again.
McKnight got up and grabbed the portable urinal Linda had swiped from the hospital.
Grimes did not look amused.
Then he looked really amused.
Now McKnight knew why, because he’d been walking around all fucking day with a huge fucking hard on.
It wasn’t like it was sexual or anything. But Grimes had given him one of those innocent smiles as he shoved McKnight’s old sweat pants down over his hips and said, “Could you help me, sir?”
Okay. So it was sexual.
Incredibly sexual.
Grimes wasn’t hard, though. McKnight had held the handle of the urinal with one hand and the almost flaccid penis with the other. He had felt the heat rise and listened to the piss fill the container and he was still hard from it, hours later.
He couldn’t do anything around Grimes. He didn’t want to tire him out, go too far. Linda would kill him.
But he had to do something. Grimes, even when he was weak and dizzy in the bed… his cock, even his limp cock, felt so good in McKnight’s hand. Soft warmth, and the curl of his pubic hair had tickled the side of McKnight’s hand. After he’d pissed, Grimes had stretched out on the bed and put his hand on his flat belly and closed his eyes. He’d looked content, even if the circles under his eyes were still too dark and his cheeks were still too thin and his bones were too visible.
He’d opened his eyes lazily and said, “I’m so glad you’re home, sir.”
McKnight groaned and opened drawers and grabbed t-shirts, Grimes’ hooded sweatshirt, jeans, socks… where the hell was his underwear? He didn’t wear it all that often, but McKnight knew Grimes had some, somewhere. It would all have to be washed, of course, but he needed clothes. All Grimes had were McKnight’s sweats, and he couldn’t keep wearing them around Linda’s house. McKnight’s dick would fall off from the constant erection.
McKnight found the underwear and then his fingers jumped because he felt something else in the drawer.
The jeans.
Laundered and neatly folded, at the back of the drawer.
The jeans with the ass ripped right out of them. Motherfuck. McKnight must be some kind of animal. Grimes must have kept them for a reason. He wouldn’t clean them and put them away if he wasn’t intending to…
McKnight’ pants were down around his knees before he could finish the thought. He had the jeans crumpled in one hand and his rock hard cock in the other. He looked in the mirror and wondered if Grimes saw the same thing he did. Fuck, his cock looked huge as he pumped it brutally. How did he ever fit that inside Grimes’ ass?
He pictured Grimes, in the jeans, on his knees, arms behind his back, gripping his elbows.
No, no, he didn’t want him like that. Not in that submissive pose.
But he did, because it presented Grimes to him so beautifully – the arch of his back and the stretch of the muscles in his chest and the way it put his cock at attention. And Grimes always looked so sinful, his eyes got so smoky when he did that.
McKnight grunted and fisted his cock harshly. Goddamn, he had things to do; he didn’t have time for this. He had to get back to Grimes, who was sick and needed care, not this imaginary healthy Grimes on his knees, licking his lips, opening his mouth to take McKnight inside… aw, motherfuck!
McKnight groaned. He’d better clean that up, because when Grimes was well enough to move back to the cottage, he was going to be furious if there was dried come all over the dresser.
McKnight looked in the mirror. Luckily, the mirror was above the dreser, so he couldn't see the silly paper booties. He looked at his still-swollen cock and his rumpled fatigues. Damn. He’d washed them to make sure there were no dangerous mold spores on them, and he would have to wash them again, after being in the house. He only had so many clothes at Linda’s place. He grabbed some of his own clothes to take back as well.
He would go to Linda’s, take all the clothes downstairs and wash them immediately. No, first he would write down the sizes, because Linda said Grimes needed some new clothes anyway. Then he would wash the clothes. By then, Grimes would be awake from his afternoon nap, and McKnight could go in and sit with him. But first he would have to take a shower, so he didn’t have any mold on him. That was fortunate; he could jerk off again in the shower, and maybe then he would be able to sit quietly with Grimes without having dirty thoughts.
Aw, fuck, it was impossible for him to sit beside Grimes and not have dirty thoughts.
But he would try. For Grimes’ sake. And so Linda wouldn’t kill him.
Roz was in the kitchen when he got back. They jotted down the sizes of the clothes before McKnight put them into the washing machine. He took a shower in the basement bathroom and threw on a pair of freshly laundered fatigues before going up to the kitchen, where Roz was making a shopping list. McKnight said he could maybe go out that evening and pick up a few things for Grimes.
“Really, Danny, you can’t be seen buying clothes for John. Especially not when you’re in uniform like that.”
“Jesus, Roz, who’s gonna notice?” McKnight said testily.
Roz looked at the list, full of “smalls” and numbers far too small for McKnight. Her right eyebrow quirked up halfway to her hairline. “Linda and I will do the shopping when she gets home,” she said firmly.
That suited McKnight fine. If they went out to shop, then he and Grimes would be alone in the house.
Not that they would be doing anything requiring privacy.
Linda came in with Ravi, and they were talking about the various ways to kill mold.
Killing sounded good to McKnight.
“Ah, Colonel McKnight,” Ravi said. “We were discussing the slab.”
Huh?
“Concrete slab, Danny. We’re going to finish the basement. It’ll be safer.”
“First removing the top eight inches of soil.”
“We’ll have to do a bit of underpinning of the foundation,” Linda added.
“It is okay. I have cousins in the business,’ Ravi said.
Did McKnight really want more Bandhus around? He didn’t much like this one. Ravi was young and enthusiastic about his work, but he was careless when he wasn’t working and he’d dropped crumbs on the table and the floor when he’d eaten his breakfast danish that morning while gesticulating and pontificating on the incredible variety of molds in your average house.
It was okay as long as Grimes was upstairs in bed, but once Grimes was up and around, Ravi’d better not make a mess. The thought of a whole crew of Ravis hanging out at the cottage, digging and pouring cement and eating their lunches, leaving messes that would need to be swept up…
McKnight heard the bathroom door close upstairs.
Grimes didn’t look surprised to see McKnight waiting outside the bathroom. “I’m fine, sir. I can walk to the toilet by myself,” he grumbled, but then his face brightened a bit. “Unless you prefer me to stay in bed. I could do that, as long as you’re there to hold the urinal and my…”
McKnight put his hand over Grimes’ mouth.
Big mistake.
It was always a mistake when McKnight did that. Grimes got this worse-than-smoky look in his eyes and his tongue flicked out at McKnight’s palm like fire. It was worse than listening to Grimes talk about his cock.
McKnight snatched his hand away.
“You always do that,” Grimes mused. “Like you want to, but you’re afraid to see it through.”
McKnight sputtered. He wasn’t afraid of anything. It was just… “Linda and Roz and Ravi are downstairs, and you’re not supposed to be doing anything strenuous, and…” McKnight struggled to find a phrase that would adequately describe why it was so dangerous for him to put his hand over Grimes’ mouth like that. “It makes me want to fuck you so bad my teeth hurt,” he ended up saying.
McKnight discovered what had been missing so much since he’d gone away. He hadn’t seen Grimes smile like that. Just like that. So open and joyous and he looked much healthier when he smiled like that. It was beautiful.
“We’re going out for dinner and shopping," Linda called up the stairs. "There’s soup on the stove.”
They both heard the front door close.
“You hungry?” Grimes asked.
McKnight shook his head. “You?”
“No.”
“You should eat.”
“In a while.”
Grimes turned and headed to the bed. He was walking fairly steadily. He didn’t fall or anything when he sat down. He took a deep, even breath. “I’m feeling better,” he said and he patted the bed beside him.
McKnight approached cautiously. He couldn’t go too far, do anything too…
Grimes swung his legs up and rolled over so he was lying on his stomach, across the bed. McKnight’s pants twisted around his hips and were tugged down so a patch of skin showed between shirt and pants, a couple of inches of pale soft skin, the top of the curve of his ass. Grimes looked up at him seriously.
“I’ve never sucked off a full colonel before,” he purred.
Aw, fuck. How they hell was McKnight supposed to behave responsibly when Grimes was saying shit like that? And looking like that. Looking like he wanted nothing more than to suck off a full colonel.
“No. You’re sick. This is… we can’t… Linda’ll kill me… you’ll get tired and then…”
Grimes rolled over again, so he was looking up at McKnight upside down. He put his hands on his chest and slowly, so slowly, slid his fingers down the front of the olive drab, regulation undershirt. His nipples were visible through the well-worn cotton. His fingers reached the hem of the t-shirt and slid down into the pants.
“Okay, but I do all the work!” McKnight grabbed Grimes’ shoulders and hauled him so he was the right way on the bed. McKnight stood for a second just looking down at him. “Oh, fuck, you’re… you lost so much weight.”
“Don’t worry about that now, sir. Worry about how long it’s been since I had my mouth on your cock.”
McKnight’s fingers squeezed Grimes’ arm.
“Sir. Sorry. Worry about whatever you want…”
McKnight loosened his fingers. “No, it’s my fault. I’m sorry. I feel responsible.”
“You’re not.”
“And I’m worried about you.”
“I’m okay. I feel a million times better already. Ravi’s going to clean up the house. Everything is going to be great. We’ll be able to move back in. Back to our house, with our bed, and your chair…” Grimes was wriggling out of the sweat pants. They were so loose he didn’t even have to use his hands. The friction from the blanket was enough.
“My chair…” McKnight said. He’d been terrified that the chair had been to blame. He’d been so relieved when Ravi told him it was definitely the crates in the basement.
“They might not be gone for very long, sir.” Grimes had the pants over his narrow hips and his cock, semi-hard and so beautiful, was out. McKnight slid off the bed to the floor and grabbed Grimes' hips, turning him sideways so McKnight’s mouth was inches from his cock.
Grimes was stunned for a moment. “Sir!”
“Shhh, John. You’ve never been sucked off by a full colonel either.”
McKnight lapped up the length of Grimes’ cock and licked the slit. “Missed that taste,” he said hoarsely, right before he opened his mouth and slid his lips over the satiny skin.
Grimes moaned, but he didn’t protest.
McKnight worked one hand up and down the shaft and worked his tongue around the head. Jesus, it was good. It was so good to have Grimes in his mouth. He sucked gently and stroked Grimes’ inner thighs and his balls. So fucking good. Grimes started to shudder a bit and his hands came down on McKnight’s head, fingers ruffling the longer hair on top of his head, scratching at closer shaved parts at the sides. They didn’t try to guide him or even suggest anything. They just wanted to be there.
“Oh! Sir!” Grimes finally exclaimed.
Yeah, McKnight thought. Oh, definitely, yes. Now. He sucked harder and swirled his tongue, the way Grimes had taught him without knowing it. And he nudged his face against Grimes’ quivering belly. Grimes’ jerked in his mouth, and his whole body flailed a bit, and McKnight had a mouthful of come.
Grimes was panting harshly.
Fuck. Too far. McKnight let go of the softening cock and moved up the bed.
“You okay?”
Grimes nodded, breathless. “I’m… it’s okay. I’m just a bit winded.”
McKnight pulled the blanket from under Grimes and covered him with it. “You need to rest.”
Grimes pouted.
“And you need to stop pouting. It’s fucking killing me.”
Grimes grinned.
“You need to have a nap.”
“I just had a nap.”
“No, you just got sucked off by your commanding officer, so you need to have another nap.”
Grimes nodded sleepily. “My turn next, okay sir?”
McKnight nodded. “Sure.”
When he was well enough.
Continued in: 30 Well Enough
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