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Title: 33 - Steele
Author: Haleth
Fandom/Pairing: BHD, McKnight/Grimes
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Sub/dom. Role playing, of sorts, an explicit het kiss but all the sex is gaygaygay.
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.
Steele
There is a moment, an instant, sometimes a literal blink of the eye, at which ‘short’ hair becomes ‘long’ hair. It does not, as one would expect, happen gradually, over time, at the speed of six inches per year, a mere half inch a month. It happens in the same amount of time it takes for long hair to become short. It is a particular moment, which can go unnoticed if unobserved.
For John Grimes, that moment occurred as he stepped from the third to the second tread of the front hall stairs of Linda McKnight’s house. The piece of hair that usually fell across his forehead suddenly fell all the way to his eye and became caught on a lash. He had to blink furiously to free it.
Fortunately for Colonel Danny McKnight, he was standing in the hallway to observe this momentous and highly arousing event.
Unfortunately for McKnight, Captain Mike Steele was standing not two feet away when it happened, so McKnight could not, as he so deeply wished he could, drag Grimes down to his knees and order him to open wide.
All he could do was stand, mute, and look.
Grimes. Had. Long. Hair.
All McKnight could do was stand, mute, and look, and hope he didn’t pass out as a result of the speed at which his cock was draining the blood from the rest of his body.
And if the long hair weren’t enough, Grimes’ face was shaved perfectly smooth. Not a facial hair in sight. He must have just shaved, maybe minutes before, perhaps at the same time McKnight had been sitting in the passenger seat of Steele’s jeep while giving directions and engaging in small talk and fervently wishing one thing and one thing only:
Not the fuck-me jeans. Please, do not let Grimes be wearing the fuck-me jeans.
Of course, Grimes was not wearing the fuck-me jeans. He was wearing an ordinary pair of jeans, of the sort millions of Americans wear everyday. Except on Grimes they looked a million times better. That wasn’t because of the jeans, though; it was because of the ass.
McKnight couldn’t actually see the ass, but he could see, by the teasing outline of cock and balls, that Grimes was not wearing anything under the jeans, which, in McKnight’s opinion, made them look all that much better, so he had to look up, into slightly mischievous eyes, which were far too enticing to look into for long, so he looked back down again to the smooth jaw line.
It had made McKnight sad, shaving off the beard, but Grimes was adamant about helping to finish the plastering and painting at the cottage, and he needed the dust mask to fit perfectly, so the beard had to go.
Grimes had kept absolutely still last weekend, while McKnight had carefully shaved his face. He hadn’t even flinched when McKnight nicked the skin on his upper lip. That tiny cut was healed now, and Grimes looked boyish and almost pretty, with his stubborn jaw and the little cleft in his chin and the hairless upper lip and the moist, red lips...
Grimes had made up for the loss of texture by rubbing his newly-smooth face all over McKnight’s belly before hoovering McKnight’s dick down his throat.
But McKnight couldn’t think about that now, not with Steele standing next to him, staring at Grimes with narrowed eyes, like he’d never quite realized how young or how beautiful Grimes was.
Fuck. McKnight would do well to shut his brain off completely and pretend he was on base and act like a strict, regulation, by-the-book officer – of the non-sexual, not kinky sort – because any thoughts about Grimes were going to lead to trouble, but thoughts like that would mean certain disaster.
Steele didn’t seem to notice anything unusual, other than Grimes’ much changed appearance. Steele would have last seen Grimes at the bar the night McKnight and Grimes had met for their first ‘date’. That was what, half a year ago? But Steele would have only seen Grimes briefly that night, so Steele was probably comparing him to the man who’d left the army a year before.
Grimes’ hair had grown considerably since then, but that wasn’t all that had changed.
Grimes was different all over. He was more relaxed in a lot of ways. That constant tension, the need to put forth an aura of cockiness and bravado was gone. Part of it was replaced by a new kind of confidence, which McKnight thought – hoped – came from Grimes knowing that he was loved for who he was. Strongly loved. Passionately loved. And desired.
He was healthier now, even considering the recent illness. Grimes had spent the last part of his tour injured, recovering, not-sleeping at night, not eating, not talking about what happened, haunted – typical stuff for someone coming out of combat, even if the army doesn’t like to talk about it.
Now he slept well. McKnight made sure of it. He ate well. He looked firmly to the future, and it looked good, so he looked good. Really good. And then there was the youthfulness. Without all that pressure, without the constant danger of being outed and the constant need to perform, Grimes had grown younger looking. He fidgeted and bounced on his heels when he was nervous, he almost seemed innocent at times, as laughable as that might seem, and his slenderness no longer looked like the product of hardship, even though McKnight knew some of it came from his recent illness.
He looked like a fucking kid; that’s what it was.
And that wouldn’t do at all. There was no way Steele was going to buy Grimes as Linda’s lover. She was ten years older than McKnight, and Grimes looked barely legal. At least he looked barely legal to McKnight.
McKnight had to remind himself that no matter how young Grimes might seem, or how pretty his eyes looked, or how achingly beautiful McKnight found him, Steele did not see the same thing. Steele was an outside observer.
So while Linda played charming and genteel host, showing Steele around the house and making sure the dinner was to his liking, and while Steele assured her that any home cooked meal would be more than welcome and that this particular meal smelled delightful, McKnight took a moment to imagine how Grimes must look to others.
And failed.
How could they not see how enticing he was? How could they miss the way his hips moved, even when he was simply walking? Or the way his lips curled into a smile to suggest things far more illicit? Or the sparkle of his eyes that could heat up at a moment’s notice? Or the movement of his hands, with their long elegant fingers, which constantly suggested sex sex sex?
McKnight shook his head. Stop thinking about John! he told himself. Think about Steele.
“What’s he doing here?” Grimes whispered when Linda sent him and McKnight out to the backyard to set up chairs and the table for dinner.
“My transmission crapped out; he offered me a lift home. It would have been impolite not to invite him for dinner.”
“It’s… unfortunate.”
“No kidding. Do you realize how much a new trannie’s gonna set me back?”
“I meant Steele being here,” Grimes grumbled.
“Linda said it was okay.”
“Did you tell her who he is?”
“I told her he was a captain in my training program, and I told her his name.”
“But does she know he used to be my commanding officer?”
“Why? You think she would have said ‘no’?”
Grimes huffed as he unfolded a chair. “She might have wanted to, I don’t know, protect me or something,” he muttered.
As if McKnight couldn’t protect Grimes. As if Grimes needed protection at all! Of course, it was McKnight who needed protection from Steele. The captain posed no danger to Grimes.
“From what? Come on. He’d going to have dinner and coffee or something, and then he’ll head home. Nothing bad’s gonna happen.” McKnight managed not to laugh as he said it.
Fuck, the tension was going to give him an ulcer. Steele was a stickler for regulations. Morally incorrupt. If he even suspected about the two of them…
But then, Grimes claimed Steele and Sanderson…
Grimes had to be mistaken, because when Roz breezed in, impressive cleavage presented prominently in an uncharacteristically floral sundress, Steele was rapt. He stared in an almost overt manner and even gave McKnight one of those manly ‘good for you’ sort of looks when Roz pressed her tits up against McKnight’s chest and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She was being a little too obvious about it, and it was enough for Steele to give him a stern look when she whispered in McKnight’s ear.
Steele probably thought Roz was saying something naughty. How could the captain know she was saying, ‘You could at least try to look as if you like it, Danny’?
McKnight kissed her forehead and gave her a squeeze and she responded with a girlish giggle.
Linda was flirting with Steele in a nonsexual way. She’d grumbled on the phone about the short notice and her long day at work and the haggling with Ravi about the best way to finish the basement floor (ceramic vs. vinyl tile) and about how Grimes had been working too much again, but she’d pulled herself together beautifully. She had her hair down in waves around her shoulders and wore a dress that would make any other woman of her age look desperate, but on Linda it looked good, and it showed off an impressive pair of legs. McKnight still couldn’t see Grimes going for her, but without his knowledge of Grimes’ taste in men, maybe it wouldn’t have seemed so odd. Not impossible, anyway.
She was working it to the max, charming Steele and making him feel totally welcome, and making him believe Grimes was her young, not-so-secret lover. It was a magnificent performance, and it behooved McKnight to do his part to make it all seem real.
This was for McKnight’s benefit, after all - to put to rest any doubts about the unusual living arrangements, about Grimes living in the same house as McKnight, about McKnight’s sexuality which, as far as McKnight was concerned was none of anyone’s business, but the army was particular about these things and even a Colonel could get nailed for being inappropriate. So McKnight was going to play along and behave and do his bit to present a seamless, all-out, all-American, all-heterosexual kind of evening.
Damn, McKnight thought, Linda was a lucky woman. Roz really did have a nice rack.
There – he could be one of the guys after all!
But then Steele offered to help Linda carry the food outside, after Linda asked McKnight to get a bottle of wine from the basement, and Grimes was downstairs getting something else, so McKnight had time to pull Grimes behind the door, grab a handful of that hair, and kiss him really hard.
Grimes arched against him.
Roz opened the door and hissed at them.
McKnight slid his fingers out of Grimes’ hair.
Grimes ran his hand over McKnight’s chest. Very suggestively.
Roz snickered. “Dinner’s ready.”
McKnight sat beside Roz, across from Linda and Steele, with Grimes to his left. That was good, because it put McKnight and Roz together, in Steele’s view. It was bad because Grimes was right there, within touching distance, and touching him was forbidden.
McKnight noticed that Steele and Grimes both called Linda ma’am, which was perfectly acceptable from Steele but you would think would be a dead giveaway in the case of Grimes, except Grimes wasn’t saying it the way he normally said it. He was saying it in a teasing sort of way, in quotation marks. Flirting.
And when Steele said, “This is the finest meal I’ve enjoyed in a long time, ma’am. Everything is delicious, especially this chowder”, Linda thanked him graciously and patted his arm in a friendly way, and Grimes managed to look proud of his girlfriend’s talents in the kitchen, even though that chowder was one of Grimes’ specialties, and everyone at the table but Steele knew it.
McKnight knew for a fact that Linda couldn’t make biscuits to save her life – McKnight had grown up thinking that biscuits were supposed to be hard enough to chip your teeth, which had been a useful delusion to be under when he went to boot camp, however incorrect it had been – but Linda didn’t even flinch when Steele complimented her on the lightness of them, and Grimes once again puffed up a bit, every inch the proud, younger, not-so-secret boyfriend.
Linda and Grimes were good. A little too good.
McKnight watched Linda pass the salad dressing to Grimes, watched her fingers trail over his, watched him smile at her coyly. McKnight could have sworn Linda blushed. Grimes poured her a glass of wine and brushed his fingers over the back of her hand.
Fuck, he could be a seductive little bugger when he wanted to be. And this wasn’t the innocent, oblivious sort of seduction that so often happened, when Grimes didn’t even realize how fucking sexy he looked in a hooded sweater, or when he had that surprised expression as if he really didn’t think that McKnight would take his kneeling on the floor to scrub the tile as an invitation. And this wasn’t the dancing to T. Rex sort of seduction either – the kind during which Grimes offered himself to McKnight on a platter, or in a pair of fuck-me jeans. No. This was totally different.
To start with, Linda was a girl. Woman. Older woman, yet while Grimes couldn’t hide the age difference, he was not deferring to it. He was not taking the innocent or submissive role at all. He was deliberate and confident and uncompromising.
Aggressive.
Masculine.
Grimes was definitely in the ‘male’ role, and Linda was playing the ‘female’, and it made McKnight sweat to think about Grimes actually turning that charm on the sort of woman who might be swept off her feet by him.
But this was Linda, his big sister. And they were both doing this for the benefit of Steele, who seemed to buy it, so everything was okay.
Right?
Steele was remarkably relaxed and social. He told a few mild war stories, mostly stuff about training. He mentioned Grimes’ surprising heroism in Somalia. Surprising to Steele, maybe, not to McKnight. Steele asked about Linda and Roz’s work, and they talked about teenagers and how the world is different today and all the usual stuff, and McKnight almost forgot his career was on the line.
But then Linda repeated something funny one of the kids said at school, and Grimes laughed, and McKnight couldn’t not look. Grimes’ eyes danced, and the reds and blonds and browns of his hair shimmered every time he moved, and his mouth, with its broad grin, was begging to be licked. Grimes was stunning.
Steele’s eyes narrowed once more.
Roz kicked McKnight under the table. He ducked his head down and she pinched his thigh. He put his arm around her waist and nuzzled her neck. Crisis averted.
McKnight would have to stop looking at Grimes for the rest of the night. No problem. He could wait until later when they were alone. And Grimes was naked. And McKnight could teach him a lesson about being so flirtatious in public.
He totally missed what Roz was saying.
Oh, she had to work early. And she was kicking him under the table again. “Yeah,” McKnight said. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
McKnight leaned against the hood of Roz’s car, because Roz told him to.
“You’re not supposed to look at John like that in front of people, you know,” she said without actually opening her mouth.
McKnight shrugged. He looked over Roz’s shoulder and noticed that Steele was watching them. There was an unimpeded sightline from Steele’s chair, through the gate, to the car. McKnight wondered just how much of this had been planned and by whom.
“Consider me your get-out-of-a-dishonorable-discharge-free card, Danny,” Roz said. “You’d do well to make this look good.”
“Oh, really?”
“Nothing like a passionate good-night kiss to make you look straight.”
McKnight lifted his hand to Roz’s cheek. It was softer than Grimes’ cheek, but it didn’t feel as good against his fingertips. “You sure about that?” he asked, only half teasing. “You sure you want me to really put on a show?”
Roz gave him a wicked smile. “You want your captain friend to think I’m the one you’re fucking, right?”
Did he? Well, it was the easiest way to prove his heterosexuality to the army, wasn’t it? “I wouldn’t want to scandalize you.”
“You think you’re that good?” she challenged.
“You think I’m not?”
“I’ve seen the way John responds to you, but I don’t know if you’ve got it in you to do that with a woman.”
“I could try.” He could. So why was he stalling? “But I wouldn’t want Linda to beat the crap out of me.”
From the backyard, it must have looked as if they were flirting. McKnight tilted her chin up.
Roz’s lips were soft. Even softer than Grimes’. They didn’t open so easily, though. Not that they needed to open. There was no way Steele could tell for sure if actual tongue action was occurring. Not from that distance and the dim light. But it did have to look good, as Roz had said. Practically challenged him, she had.
McKnight slid his hand around her back and down to the curve of her waist. He held the back of her neck with his other hand and kissed her harder. She arched up into him and her mouth opened.
Fuck, McKnight hadn’t held and woman and kissed her like that forever. Roz was soft and warm, and her mouth yielded to him. Not submissive, but permissive. McKnight pulled her closer, and her dress rode up when she straddled his thigh. The tits crushed against his chest felt good. He’d forgotten how good that felt. He slid his hand up her side, and his wrist brushed against the side of her breast. She sagged a little in his arms, and he slid the hand back down so his fingers splayed over the top of her soft ass. She arched again, gracefully and a bit sluttily.
McKnight found himself nibbling her lower lip and squeezing her ass.
It was good.
Maybe a little too good.
Grimes looked shell-shocked when McKnight returned to the table. Steele looked mildly scandalized. Linda poured the coffee, lips pressed in a thin line.
“So,” McKnight said, figuring if he was going to play the role, he might as well go all out, “what else is for dessert?”
Grimes kicked him under the table.
Steele grinned and said he thought McKnight had already had enough sweet things.
Linda scowled. And kicked McKnight under the table.
McKnight began to doubt his shins would survive the evening.
Steele recognized the coffee immediately. He commented that everyone missed Grimes’ coffee.
Grimes got flustered. It made him look even younger.
Linda laid her hand on Grimes’ arm and snuggled against him. “I never could make a decent cup of coffee. John is a genius at it, isn’t he?”
Steele looked over his coffee at McKnight and smirked.
McKnight stood well away from the hood of the jeep when Steele was leaving.
“Thank you very much, Colonel.” Steele was being informal, but not so informal he’d forget about rank. “It’s a real treat to have a home cooked meal, and that was one of the best I’ve had in a long time. Pleasant company, too.”
McKnight muttered something about the benefits of living off-base.
“Your sister is a fine woman,” Steele said in a southernly, gentlemanly way. “Intelligent, talented, charming.” He had that wistful, hopeful look men sometimes get when they talk about a woman.
Oh, Christ, maybe Grimes had imagined that whole thing with Steele and Sanderson after all.
“Yeah, well, she’s kind of taken right now,” McKnight said, with a jerk of his head indicating Grimes, who was clearing dishes off the table in the backyard.
“Hmmm. Yes, so it would seem. Grimes seems a bit… young for her, doesn’t he?” Steele said.
McKnight shrugged. He figured that’s what would be expected of him. He wasn’t sure. Maybe he was supposed to be defensive about his older sister going out with such a young guy. Maybe he was supposed to resent Grimes. Or maybe he was supposed to embrace him as a younger brother. He couldn’t be sure, so detached was probably the safest way to play it.
“I’m sure she’ll tire of him sooner or later,” Steele added.
What? To make room for Steele? McKnight couldn’t imagine such a thing.
“Young,” Steele repeated. “Far cry from a Ranger.” He added, almost under his breath. “And too damned pretty.”
McKnight couldn’t respond.
Maybe Steele was playing his part in all this as well.
“You’ll be okay getting to the base in the morning?” Steele asked, all business.
“Sure, I can get a lift from Linda,” McKnight said.
“Or Grimes,” Steele suggested.
Just what was Steele suggesting?
“Nice to see that Specialist Grimes has adjusted so well to civilian life,” Steele said. “He’s a good man, and he deserves a quiet life. He wasn’t made for war the way you and I were.”
McKnight nodded in a vaguely commanding officer fashion. “He’s been wonderful… for Linda. I hope it lasts a long time.”
Steele looked him in the eye when he shook his hand. “So do I, Colonel. And I mean that. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
McKnight had no idea what had just happened, but he thought Steele had just assured him that Steele would not be the one to out him.
Or maybe he was saying he believed the whole charade. Or maybe… whatever it was, McKnight felt lighter than he had on the ride home, that was for sure.
Linda came out and gave McKnight a withering look. “I’m going to Roz’s,” she said tersely.
“Good idea,” McKnight said. Hell, Roz and Linda had started this whole thing. Whey should McKnight feel guilty for playing along? It had been their idea from the start. “Go over and give her a good lay,” McKnight said, throwing all caution to the wind. “Both of you deserve it.”
Linda just looked at him for a moment.
Shit. She was fucking imposing when she wanted to be.
Then she laughed suddenly and gave McKnight a crushing hug. “You’re a devil,” she said.
Right.
McKnight watched her drive off, and went inside, locking the door, shutting the blinds, checking the back door.
Grimes was on the stairs when McKnight went back in the hall. On the second stair. With his hair in his eyes.
“I suppose that was supposed to be funny,” he said quietly.
Uh. McKnight hadn’t thought it funny at the time. He’d thought it was convincing. What was he supposed to have done, given Roz a peck on the cheek and pretended he was saving himself for marriage?
Grimes looked… disturbed.
“Are you mad about that?” McKnight asked, surprised by his own timidity.
“About the way you kissed Roz?” Grimes did that thing where he sucked the edge of his upper lip, when he was thinking hard about something. “No,” he said slowly, “but I’m so horny I think my cock might fall off, sir.”
McKnight stared, mouth open in shock.
“You’re a wicked tease, sir. I bet Roz is at home right now, touching herself and praying for Linda to drive faster.”
Motherfucker.
“That wasn’t a good-night kiss, sir; that was foreplay.”
McKnight tried to be cool. “You think?” he said, casually.
Grimes popped the button on his jeans and shimmied out of them. His cock was so hard it pointed directly up.
“Well, I sure as hell need to get fucked,” Grimes said.
Grimes was still in sexual aggressor mode, only he was Grimes, so his sexual aggression wasn’t really aggression, it was more like assertive submission. Didn’t matter. It was unbearably sexy, and it made McKnight make a noise that, had McKnight been forced to describe, he would have called a whimper.
“Sir,” Grimes added, and turned around to drop so he was kneeling on the third stair, his hands braced on the fifth. The crack of his ass was wet. Shiny. Prepared.
“Aw, fuck,” McKnight swore.
Grimes stuck his ass out further, spread his knees more. “Please, sir.”
McKnight stumbled forward and opened his belt.
“Please, keep the uniform on, sir.”
Hell, yes.
McKnight hadn’t dared to think about it during dinner, since it would have been too painful for his cock, but sitting so close to McKnight while McKnight was still in full uniform, with another officer at the table in uniform, and all that sexual tension crackling in the air, must have been close to agonizing for Grimes. McKnight knew how much Grimes got turned on when he had to be sneaky about things.
And McKnight had kissed him really hard behind the cellar door.
Grimes was perfect, stretched and ready. There was enough extra lube smeared in the crack for McKnight to slick himself just by sliding his cock up and down a few times. And Grimes’ asshole was so hot, McKnight’s cock was drawn to it naturally.
And he was even hotter inside.
“Thank you, sir,” Grimes grunted when McKnight slid into him without a hitch.
“Thank you,” McKnight muttered against Grimes’ shoulder. “And get this fucking t-shirt off now. I want to feel a proper chest.”
Grimes’ hard pecs and furry skin had never felt so right – flat nipples and just enough of a curve to give McKnight something to grab onto, but solid muscle just below the surface. This was a man McKnight was fucking - a beautiful, strong, fit, willing and eager man McKnight could fuck hard and long and not have to worry about hurting.
Maybe not so long, if they kept fucking like that. McKnight set a frantic pace. He could have kept it up for just a little longer, come in Grimes’ ass, made Grimes come, but he was feeling greedy.
McKnight pulled out abruptly and looked down. Every muscle in Grimes’ back and ass and legs quivered with tension, and his asshole clenched at the air. It if could talk, it would have whined.
Instead, Grimes whined. “Sir! Please don’t stop!”
McKnight patted his ass offhandedly.
He didn’t really want to stop. His cock was screaming at him to get the fuck back inside and finish the fucking job, but McKnight wanted more. Sometimes you have to stop to get more.
McKnight spread his hand on Grimes’ ass, watched the skin flush as he squeezed, and Grimes’ hands clench on the nosing of the stair tread.
“How clean are these stairs?” McKnight asked, like he was inquiring about the weather.
Grimes groaned and shuddered under him, as if about to break under a heavy load. “Pristine, sir. I cleaned them this morning.
McKnight tried to lightly, teasingly brush his thumb over Grimes’ asshole. It would have been a wicked, teasing thing to do. But when the pad of his thumb touched the soft, slightly swollen skin, slick with lube, loosened from the fucking, hotter than mere body temperature, it took on a life of its own.
Grimes howled when McKnight’s thumb plunged inside.
“You know what to do, soldier,” McKnight said.
Continiued in: On The Stairs
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