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Title: Spectacle
Rating: R
Warning: Kink. sub/Dom. Optometry. Return of the slash-loving lesbians.
Disclaimer: McKnight and Grimes have nothing to do with any real life men, and precious little to do with any men in books or movies. I mostly made them up, especially the kinky parts, so any resemblance to any such men should be used only as a visual aid.
Feedback: Keeps the Grimes and McKnight muses ogling.
Thank you: You know who you are, you pervy slash-loving ophthamalic nurse, you!! *kisses*
Spectacle
McKnight got home at six, and found Grimes sitting at the dining room table with his head in his hands. For the second time that week. And there had been one more time the week before.
“John?”
Grimes looked up. His hair was messy from his fingers being tangled in it. “Oh. Hello, sir.” He squinted up at McKnight.
“You have another headache,” McKnight said. He had a flash of Grimes lying in a hospital bed, pale and gaunt. Beeping machines. A hard, heavy, huge knot in the pit of McKnight’s stomach. “Do you need to move back to Linda’s place?”
“It’s not the mold, sir,” Grimes said with certainty. “I’m sure of it. It’s just some eyestrain.”
McKnight glowered at the computer. Dangerous, those things were. Not like a TV. A TV you watched from the other side of the room. A computer you were nose to nose with. And Grimes spent far too much time on the computer, doing accounts, writing reports, taking inventory, emailing collectors interested in various bits of a dead woman’s life.
“I think I should take a rest. Lie down in a dark room,” Grimes suggested.
“Maybe you should. Maybe I should join you.” McKnight flexed his left hand. “My wrist is a bit stiff. I think I should do some therapy.”
Grimes sighed. He felt great. Headache gone. Eyes closed and relaxed. Pleasant tingling in his toes. From the orgasm.
McKnight crawled back up the bed and settled next to Grimes. “Well, you taste fine,” he announced, licking his lips.
Grimes hummed low in his throat. “And what about you?”
McKnight moved away from Grimes’ seeking fingers. “I’m good,” he said. “Lie back and relax.” McKnight folded Grimes’ hands over his stomach.
Again. If Grimes were to push things, he was sure he would find McKnight flaccid, or very close to flaccid. Second time that week. And once the week before.
Really. Not like McKnight at all.
“I think you should get your eyes checked.”
Grimes choked a bit on his coffee. “My eyes?”
“Yeah. You’re getting headaches when you spend too much time on that damn computer. Maybe you need glasses.”
“Glasses, sir?”
McKnight put his coffee cup on the table. “Eye. Glasses.”
McKnight could picture Grimes wearing glasses. He would look good. Intellectual, like a college student. Grimes and Linda had been talking about Grimes going to college part-time. That would mean even more time on the computer. Grimes would be more comfortable if he had glasses, if that was why he was getting the headaches. And with his hair long and silky, with the scruffy beard, never too full because Grimes kept it trimmed, he’d fit right in at school. With his new glasses.
Young. He would look young. Even younger with the glasses. Might even make McKnight feel old.
“I’ll think about it, sir.”
No. He’d do more than think about it. He would fucking well go to the eye doctor. McKnight would make the damn appointment himself.
He would see Grimes in glasses by this time next week.
Any more headaches would not be tolerated.
“Sir, do I have to?”
“Get out of the car, Grimes.”
“But I don’t have a headache.”
“Get out of the car and get into the doctor’s office.”
“I feel fine.”
“Good. Your appointment is in,” McKnight checked his watch, “seven minutes.”
“I don’t like doctors.”
“Linda says he’s very nice.”
“This is Linda’s doctor!?!”
“Eye doctor, Grimes. Just eyes. Relax. You look through some lenses. You read a chart. It’s easy.”
“But sir!” That was a whine. Grimes winced. He hadn’t meant to whine.
McKnight looked around. There was no one there, but he still had to look. It was enough of a risk, in this town, for him to even drive Grimes to the appointment. Grimes felt terrible about being so difficult.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
McKnight looked at him with soft eyes. “You know if we weren’t out in the open like this…”
Grimes nodded. He knew. He could almost feel McKnight’s fingers tighten around his, even though both of McKnight’s hands were on the steering wheel. And he could feel McKnight’s lips brush across his beard.
“I know,” he whispered, and got out of the car.
Grimes stared down at the brown leather case on his knee.
“We were lucky; that one-hour optician only opened last week.”
Grimes nodded glumly.
“Put’em on. Let’s see how you look.”
Grimes shook his head. “They’re not for distance, sir. I’m only supposed to wear them when I’m reading or using the computer.”
“Well, read the map, then. It’s in the glove compartment.”
Grimes looked around.
Unbelievable. He didn’t want anyone to see him in his glasses. What was he worried about? McKnight was sure Grimes would have chosen frames that suited him. And besides, Grimes looked good in anything.
Better in nothing, but really, McKnight had never seen Grimes in anything that made him unattractive. Maybe hospital gowns, but that was because a hospital gown meant Grimes was sick and that was unacceptable. But if Grimes wanted to dress up in a hospital gown, McKnight was sure he’d look just fine.
Hospital gowns were open at the back, weren’t they?
McKnight stared down at the brown leather case on Grimes’ knees and noticed that his jeans were a little worn. McKnight could almost see pale skin under the thin denim.
Grimes could put the glasses on when they got home. And McKnight would take the jeans off. Good plan.
McKnight started the car.
Grimes was close to paralyzed, cold and tight in his throat. Fear.
He had nothing to be afraid of. Not rationally. But there was an irrational dread creeping up his spine, trying to strangle him.
He sat at the dining room table with a pile of papers in front of him. He knew the papers were a detailed inventory of the contents of the boxes to his left. China figurines, each listed with its best estimated dates of manufacture and acquisition, the maker and title of the piece, approximate retail price and possible buyers. But the words were blurry.
Grimes could lean way back in his chair, or push the papers across the table and the words would come into focus.
Or he could put on the glasses.
McKnight hovered in the doorway, trying to look inconspicuous and nonchalant. But he was too big to disappear into the woodwork and too eager for covert ops.
He wanted Grimes to put on the glasses.
At least he wanted something from Grimes. He hadn’t wanted much lately. Grimes was extra nervous about the glasses because he feared McKnight might not want him so much anymore, and the glasses might make him want Grimes even less. After all, when McKnight suggested the glasses in the first place he’d been soft. And a couple of nights before that as well. He’d pulled Grimes into his arms and Grimes had not been able to get a rise out of him, even after he’d rested his head on McKnight’s belly. McKnight had just stroked his hair and rubbed that back of his neck, which had been wonderful, even if it hadn’t been exactly what Grimes had wanted, but it had eased his headache.
Headache.
McKnight didn’t get hard when Grimes had a headache.
And McKnight wanted the glasses.
Duh.
Grimes put on the glasses.
Simple, black frames. Plain. A bit thick. You might even call them nerd glasses.
But not when Grimes was wearing them.
Motherfucker!
The typing came into sharp focus. Amazing. The rest of the room was a bit of a blur.
McKnight was a big blur. Getting bigger. Which meant he was coming closer.
And…
It wasn’t nearly so difficult to kiss as Grimes had feared it would be. McKnight tilted his head to one side and neatly avoided the glasses. Grimes opened his mouth and let McKnight’s tongue invade.
Hands, one in Grimes’ hair, the other on his shoulder, held him still while McKnight plundered. Grimes felt his upper body go slack. McKnight’s hands held him up, pulled him closer, began to paw at him.
The glasses steamed up.
Grimes remembered how to use his hands and lifted one up to take them off.
“God, no,” McKnight muttered against his mouth. “Leave them on.”
Grimes tilted back. “On, sir?” Why would he want them on?
“Fuck, I love them,” McKnight growled against him, grabbed Grimes’ shirt, hauled him off the chair as McKnight stood, kept kissing him.
McKnight loved the glasses.
Well.
McKnight fell back into his armchair with Grimes sprawled atop. It hadn’t been easy to get out of the crowded dining room and across the living room without breaking the kiss, but where there’s a will…
Fuck, yeah, Grimes was pliant in his arms. The glasses were a bit crooked and steamed up, but that wasn’t an issue because Grimes had his eyes closed anyway, and his lips were parted and moist.
McKnight pushed gently on Grimes’ shoulders and watched him slide down to the floor.
Grimes did not make a move to take off the glasses.
“Good boy,” McKnight breathed out. So good.
McKnight was hard. So hard it was hard to fit him in Grimes’ mouth. So, Grimes licked around the thick head, and up and down the meaty shaft, and when the head of McKnight’s cock bumped against the glasses, McKnight moaned.
Grimes shifted his knees to correct his angle of approach. Now he could fit more in his mouth. Almost all. He opened wide and relaxed his jaw and just enjoyed the heavy feel of McKnight’s cock in his mouth.
McKnight gasped.
Grimes looked up.
McKnight brushed Grimes’ hair off his forehead and groaned something that sounded suspiciously like ‘college boy’.
Grimes wondered what that might mean. And then he remembered he was still wearing the glasses, and just about choked on the cock.
McKnight tried to move away to stop the choking but Grimes lunged onto his cock and sucked hard. McKnight grabbed the arms of the chair and held tight. Aw, fuck, Grimes was taking all of him in, all at once, and it was shattering. Beard scraped McKnight’s thigh. Grimes pressed his flattened tongue against the underside of McKnight’s cock, which wasn’t really the underside when McKnight was this hard because his cock would be pointing at the fucking ceiling if it weren’t pointing at the back of Grimes’ throat.
Oh, Jesus. Good fucking boy. Fuck! Fuck the boy. Good idea.
“Up, up, get up here,” McKnight moaned. “Take your clothes off first.”
Grimes wriggled out of his jeans without breaking contact between his lips and McKnight’s cock. He pulled his arms through his sleeves but he couldn’t get the t-shirt over his head without stopping what he was doing and McKnight didn’t want him to stop but he also needed him up, up.
McKnight let go of the chair and put his hands on Grimes’ shoulders.
Up, up. Grimes surged up and spread his legs and straddled McKnight’s thighs. He fully intended to lift himself the rest of the way up so he could sit on McKnight’s cock, even though he was prepared for fucking, but McKnight stopped him and pulled him so close their cocks touched.
“That’s good,” McKnight said.
Damn right it was good. They were both hard now, and smooth, hot skin slid to make them both harder.
“Touch yourself,” McKnight ordered.
Grimes shoved his hand between them and tried to stretch his fingers around both cocks, but McKnight groaned open-mouthed against his cheek.
“No. Just you.”
Grimes wrapped his fingers around his own cock. The backs of them pressed against McKnight’s cock.
“Jerk off.”
Grimes did.
Motherfucker, perfect friction. McKnight was ready to burst like a teenager. Like a college student. Grimes had his t-shirt bunched up around his neck. When Grimes leaned back, McKnight had a perfect view of flat abs and stiff dicks and that freckle just above Grimes’ right nipple, which McKnight would have to properly suck. Later. Right now…
“Can you come with me?” McKnight gasped.
Grimes whimpered and his hips writhed. “On your command, sir.”
The glasses were tiled at a crazy angle. Grimes was bouncing with every stroke and his balls pressed against McKnight’s balls. Grimes was making the ‘ah ah ah’ noise.
McKnight couldn’t take any more. He grunted and lifted his hips reflexively and started to come. Forgot to give the order. Remembered. “Now!”
Grimes let the air out of his lungs and the come out of his balls. It was probably, in a physiological sense, a more complicated process than that, but that’s how it looked to McKnight.
McKnight’s own come didn’t feel like much, but Grimes’ sizzled on his skin.
Grimes shuddered and let himself fall forward against McKnight’s chest. Solid and warm and safe. There was a huge sticky mess between them, but he ignored it. He could lick it up later.
He fumbled for a second and took the glasses off, laying them on the sidetable.
“Jesus, I hope we didn’t break them,” McKnight’s voice rumbled.
Grimes tried to laugh. “It’s okay, sir. I told them I had a very rambunctious nephew and needed the sturdiest frames possible.”
“Oh. So you knew I’d like them.”
“No, sir,” Grimes said truthfully. “But I figured it’s always best to be prepared for any eventuality.”
McKnight pulled him closer. “Good boy.”
Linda McKnight looked up from the paper she was editing. Roz looked flushed. Cheeks red, hair a bit messy, eyes wide.
She looked good.
Linda kept her cool. “How did John’s appointment with the optometrist go?” she asked.
“I didn’t get to ask. I just saw him through an opening in the curtains.” Roz began to unbutton her blouse. She must have been really hot.
“Did he look okay?”
Roz grabbed Linda’s pen and tossed it across the table. “He was making a right spectacle of himself. Now get yourself upstairs, Ms. McKnight. Now!”
Linda did as Roz asked.
Roz grabbed Linda’s reading glasses from the table as she followed.
Continued in 39 Video
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