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Title: 31 - Prickle
Author: Haleth
Fandom/Pairing: BHD, McKnight/Grimes
Rating: NC-17,
Warning: Sub/dom, beard porn, stealth. Failed stealth.
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.
Prickle
Short, bristly facial hairs scraped over the sensitive skin of McKnight’s inner thigh.
McKnight groaned.
He would never get tired of that.
He was on his back with one leg, the one that was being scraped, lying flat on the mattress, and the other one bent, pushed out to the side. Grimes was lying between his legs, which was why McKnight had to keep them spread so wide. Grimes’ cheek, soft at the top, bearded at the jaw line, was on McKnight’s thigh. His lips were less than an inch from McKnight’s balls, warm air flowing past them, washing over McKnight.
Grimes was sleeping.
He’d earned it. And McKnight was not about to complain about the mild discomfort of keeping his legs spread like that for so long. Every time Grimes shifted or sighed in his sleep, those hairs prickled McKnight’s skin and sent waves of heat rushing through his nerves.
McKnight’s cock started to get hard.
Again.
And after Grimes had sucked him off not once, but twice.
Well, the one in the kitchen wasn’t really sucking off. Grimes had been shaking after McKnight pulled him off the table and held him. He’d fumbled blindly at McKnight’s cock, babbling something about him being a colonel. Grimes’ warm naked body and his grasping hands and his hot, wet mouth on McKnight’s chest were electrifying, but Grimes had been in no shape to do anything beyond that, so McKnight had grabbed his own cock and started to jerk off against Grimes’ belly.
“Sir, I should do that.”
But Grimes hadn’t been able to coordinate his hands well enough, and the way his eyes were all glazed over and his legs were still quivering made it absolutely imperative that McKnight come.
McKnight must have made some kind of warning noise, because Grimes had flowed to the floor when McKnight started to spurt. The first shot hit him in the chest, the second smeared across his chin and cheek. The rest Grimes managed to actually catch in his mouth.
His lips had worked feverishly to suck out the last drops.
McKnight’s cock twitched at the memory.
When he hauled Grimes up to his feet again, Grimes’ eyes were closed and he had a blissed out expression on his face. Blissed out and smeared with come. A good look on Grimes – McKnight wanted to see it more often.
McKnight had licked the stickiness from Grimes’ cheek, then lapped at the wet hairs on his upper lip, and soon he’d been sucking come from all over Grimes’ beard. The stiff hairs were just long enough to bend when McKnight pressed them in the right direction with his tongue.
Grimes was the first guy with a beard McKnight had ever kissed. Grimes had smiled beautifully when McKnight told him that.
“Shower, then bed,” McKnight had ordered, but Grimes had just leaned against him, still shaking.
Fuck it, McKnight had thought. There was no one there to see. He’d picked up Grimes. Grabbed his ass, wrapped his legs around his waist, and carried him all the way up the stairs, while Grimes licked at the scar on his neck and half-moaned, half fucking giggled.
“You’re like my hero,” Grimes said drunkenly when McKnight set him down on the counter in the bathroom. He’d looked as drunk as he’d sounded, even though McKnight knew he hadn’t had any alcohol. Doctor’s orders.
“You look drunk,” McKnight joked as he turned on the shower.
“Drunk on sex,” Grimes had murmured, then giggled. Fucking giggled. It was too light to be a chuckle, too light to be a laugh. It was a goddamn giggle.
But then he’d sobered up and pulled McKnight close. Foreheads together, Grimes’ legs back around McKnight’s waist, soft cocks pressed warmly together. “Sir,” Grimes breathed out across McKnight’s lips.
McKnight’s cock was rock hard as he lay in bed remembering, replaying the way Grimes had kissed him so deeply, so passionately, before sliding off the counter and tugging McKnight into the shower.
It wasn’t as comfortable as their real shower. At home, there were grab bars and a big, level tiled floor. Here, the shower was in the bathtub, smaller, with curved sides and they had to be wary of slipping.
But it was incredibly good when Grimes soaped up McKnight and slid his hands all over muscles and cock and balls. And McKnight’s hands were on fire as he did the same for Grimes. Then he’d told Grimes to put his hands on the wall and he’d slipped a couple of soapy fingers in and out of him and Grimes had arched and hissed.
“In bed,” McKnight had to order, because he didn’t have the control to fuck in the shower.
Grimes hadn’t even properly dried himself before he fell on McKnight’s cock, devouring it. McKnight had stretched out and done nothing but enjoy, which had put Grimes into even more of a frenzy. Grimes ended up sucking McKnight furiously while he drove his own hard cock between McKnight’s calves.
“Don’t come like that,” McKnight had ordered, right about the time the room started to spin.
Grimes had made a deep noise, something primitive, and lurched up the bed to straddle McKnight’s thighs and fist his cock desperately.
“That’s it, good boy,” McKnight had encouraged him. “Come on my cock. I want to feel your hot come on my cock.”
Grimes had twisted and groaned and it was more than hot; it sizzled as it splashed on McKnight’s dick. Grimes’ mouth was almost cool in comparison. Rough velvet his tongue felt like, next to the sandpapery rasp of beard and the petal-softness of lips.
Coming was easy. Not choking Grimes, not thrusting violently into his mouth, that had been difficult.
McKnight moved his left leg, the bent one. He was starting to get a cramp in his hip joint. Grimes nuzzled his thigh and pressed his face against McKnight’s balls.
The front door opened. Linda was home. Good thing she hadn’t been home earlier, when Grimes had been doing all that howling while he jerked off onto McKnight.
McKnight grabbed the sheet and pulled it up between Grimes and his leg. He had to push Grimes’ mouth away from his nuts, barely getting his cock covered by the time the door opened a crack.
“Danny, is everything all right?” Linda asked quietly.
“Yeah,” he whispered, not wanting Grimes to wake.
Linda pushed the door open a bit more. “There’s coffee all over the kitchen floor.”
Shit.
“I was worried something bad happened.”
Fuck.
“Then I saw John’s clothes on the floor as well.”
Motherfucker.
“We’re fine,” McKnight mumbled.
“I would have to be blind to miss that,” Linda said, and stepped into the room.
McKnight tried to pull the sheet up so he’d be covered a bit more, but all that did was tighten the cloth around his erection, which would not go the fuck down, even with his sister in the room, because Grimes was a restless little bugger when he was sleeping, and the prickle against McKnight’s thigh was torture of the most exquisite variety.
“So,” McKnight asked, practicing his nonchalance in sexually charged situations, although not nearly so satisfyingly as when he smoked a cigarette while Grimes went down on him, “how was the drama competition?”
“Excellent. You’re not the only one who got lucky tonight.”
It was so unbecoming a woman of Linda’s age and stature to make bad sex puns and fucking smirk like that.
“That’s great,” McKnight said, thankful that at least the lights were off, and the only illumination came from the light in the downstairs hall.
He wasn’t sure which was worse – being naked with a massive erection and his lover sleeping in his lap while his big sister was standing next to the bed, or having his big sister act completely oblivious to the fact that he was naked with a massive erection and his lover sleeping in his lap.
“Look, Danny,” Linda said, coming even closer to the bed, for the love of God. “I can’t pretend to understand…”
“Understand what?”
Linda gestured toward Grimes’ thoroughly sex-tousled hair.
“There’s nothing to understand,” McKnight said defensively.
“Danny. Please. His discharge was almost a year ago and he still calls you ‘sir’.”
Yeah. Well. So?
“And he gets so excited when you’re in full uniform.”
McKnight stifled the moan that was rising from the prickle prickle prickle of Grimes’ beard by going ‘mm-mmm’ in a distracted, agreeing sort of way.
“And he keeps the floors so clean you could eat off them.”
Did she even know what she was saying?
“So, I expect you to get up early and clean the spilt coffee.”
“Sure.” He could do that.
“And, unless I’ve read the situation incorrectly, I think it might be a good idea to disinfect the kitchen table before breakfast.”
“I’ll clean everything,” McKnight croaked.
Humiliation complete. Mission accomplished. No one could take him down a peg like his big sister.
And he still had a raging hard on. There had to be something wrong with that.
Finally, Linda went for the door, pausing just before she left. “He’s lovely,” she said. “Do not fuck this up.”
McKnight’s jaw dropped at the completely uncharacteristic vulgarity.
He didn’t think he’d ever heard Linda say ‘fuck’ before. Except for that time when he was eight, and she’d told him ‘fuck’ was a dirty word while she washed his mouth out with soap.
McKnight ran his tongue over his teeth and could almost taste the soap.
Actually, there was a slight taste of soap, since Grimes had washed his face and beard when they were in the shower, and he hadn’t had time to rinse properly before McKnight started kissing him and tugging on his beard with his teeth.
McKnight had discovered that, in spite of the soapy taste, he loved chewing on Grimes’ beard.
And it certainly made Grimes writhe.
Grimes was staring at him, hands under his chin, elbows on either side of McKnight’s outstretched thigh.
“Am I, sir?”
“What?”
“‘Lovely’.”
Aw, shit.
“Do you often have these little heart-to-hearts?”
Oh, Grimes was really fucking enjoying this.
“Do you think she knew I was awake?”
“Hell, I didn’t know you were awake!”
Grimes’ bright eyes and grin lit up the dim room. “I didn’t want to disturb you, sir.”
“Oh, really,” McKnight mock grumbled. “Is that what all that prickling on my thighs was about?”
Grimes ducked his head and scraped across McKnight’s hip. “I was trying to get my beard hopelessly tangled in your leg hair.”
McKnight gave him tangled. Fingers, tangled in his silky hair, dragging him up the bed.
Grimes moaned when McKnight’s erection pressed into his thigh. “Oh, sir,” he whispered in McKnight’s ear. “Can you…again…”
“Perpetually, when you’re like this,” McKnight confirmed, flipping Grimes on his back.
Grimes wriggled against McKnight, maybe to let him know he wasn’t the only one.
Or maybe to set McKnight’s cock on fire.
“Shhh,” McKnight hissed when Grimes genuinely started to moan.
This was impossible. He couldn’t properly ravish Grimes with other people around. McKnight was going to phone Ravi and order him to get rid of the damn mold, asap, NOW. McKnight would call him first thing in the morning.
Right after he mopped up the spilt coffee.
But for tonight, he would have to practice stealth.
And he would have to impose stealth on Grimes.
“On your hands and knees, soldier.”
Grimes actually squeaked when he rolled off McKnight.
Fucking hell. Was there anything on earth sexier than John Grimes on his hands and knees? His back arched beautifully, and his ass was a work of legally obscene art.
McKnight didn’t have any lube. He hadn’t thought it necessary. Grimes had been so ill, and he hadn’t wanted to tax him, but not taxing him, and not fucking him, had caused all this need to build up inside him, and now he was stuck without lube and with a giant, rock-fucking-hard…
“Top drawer on the left, sir!” Grimes panted.
Oh, such a fucking good boy. McKnight should have known Grimes wouldn’t do all that seduction without stocking up first.
McKnight had to get up to get the lube, but that was okay because the trip back afforded him a spectacular view of Grimes’ ass.
And the dark purple mark McKnight had sucked right next to his asshole.
McKnight bent to kiss it.
Grimes jumped and swore.
Now, that would not do at all. Time to enforce the stealth.
“I need you absolutely quiet,” McKnight whispered.
Grimes only breathed hard when McKnight penetrated him with two fingers.
“Maintain silence.”
Grimes whimpered.
Okay. That was permission. Or an admission that aid was required.
McKnight rose behind Grimes, sheathed himself fully with a single, perfectly-aimed thrust, bent over the arched back and clamped his hand over Grimes’ mouth.
Furnace. Fucking blast furnace. Still virgin tight, but the hips were swivelling in an anything but virginal manner.
McKnight had to hold on with one hand to stay seated. His fingers curved around Grimes’ hip. His other fingers were prickled by the beard.
“You okay?” McKnight grunted.
Grimes nodded, slathering McKnight’s palm with saliva.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” McKnight kept his voice steady and quiet, so it wouldn’t carry. “And I’m going to fuck you hard.” The grind of ass into pelvis was brilliant. “And you are going to maintain silence. Understood, soldier?”
Grimes nodded again and this time he almost made McKnight come when he ground his ass back. But this was McKnight’s… what? Fourth time?
Jerking off in the afternoon. Jerking off on Grimes in the kitchen. Grimes sucking the life out of him in bed after the shower. Now this. Fourth time in less than eight hours.
He wasn’t an old man, but he wasn’t exactly a teenager either, so he was hard as hell but able to control himself. Admirably.
Grimes couldn’t. He was openly flailing, despite McKnight’s considerable weight holding him down. He clutched at the sheets, the pillows, the headboard.
Headboard.
McKnight grabbed a wrist and put Grimes’ hand on the top of the headboard. Grimes, quick study that he was, raised his other hand and his upper body. He was almost kneeling upright, with McKnight plastered against his back. The angle changed, and his head went back, so McKnight’s hand on his mouth pressed the back of his head into McKnight’s shoulder.
“Quiet,” McKnight warned, and jerked his hips up and forward. He fucked hard and fast. Grimes’ whole body lifted off the bed with every thrust. The sweat glued them together, the sweat and McKnight’s arm wrapped firmly around Grimes’ waist.
McKnight had Grimes’ lower legs trapped between his knees on the mattress, his mouth covered by a wide palm. Grimes couldn’t flail. He couldn’t yell.
So he came. Grimes shimmied against McKnight and came hard, shooting onto the headboard and pillow, clenching around McKnight’s cock, sinking his teeth into McKnight’s hand.
The teeth on McKnight’s fingers didn’t hurt at all. They just made him fuck harder. Grimes wriggled his legs back so he could hook his ankles around McKnight’s calves. McKnight rammed into Grimes and opened his mouth. Grimes wrenched his head to the side, so McKnight’s scream would be at least muffled by his cheek. McKnight felt smooth skin against his upper lip and rough beard against his lower lip. He let his teeth graze the cheek, felt the prickly hairs on his gums. He wasn’t biting hard enough to leave a mark, but he wished he could.
That realization was what made him come.
Grimes rubbed his face against McKnight’s still-open mouth and moaned into McKnight’s hand.
It didn’t matter if he made noise now. If Linda hadn’t heard McKnight, she wouldn’t hear any sound Grimes could make.
McKnight put both arms around Grimes and eased him down onto the bed. Grimes went liquid against him. There wasn’t any skin between them not touching.
McKnight buried his face in Grimes’ soft hair and murmured.
Grimes turned his head weakly. “What was that, sir?”
McKnight kissed his cheek. “I said, ‘lovely’, John. Lovely.”
Continued in: 32 The Massage
Back to: Soldier Porn
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