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Title: Just Sex
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Just like the title says – just sex. Oral. Anal. Snowballing. And auto-fellatio. Do not try this at home, kids.
Disclaimer: Not the movie, not the real guys, not intended to infringe on anything but the bounds of decency.
Summary: The shortest Army of Two ever. Maybe the sweetest. Certainly the most acrobatic.
I get a little spare time between shifts and chores, and what do I do? Do I read important literature? Do I work on my home renovations? Do I spend quality time with the kids?
Hell, no. I spend quality time with McKnight and Grimes!
Just Sex
Grimes hardly ever thought of his own cock. He knew it was there, liked the feelings it gave him, liked it when McKnight paid it attention, and certainly handled it himself, especially when ordered to do so, but his cock was not his main focus.
But he did focus on it when McKnight was lying beside him on the mat in the basement. Saying things.
They were lying on a yoga mat. Actually three yoga mats. Exercise mats, really, stuck together with Velcro to make one huge mat. It was a bit thicker than an official yoga mat, for which Grimes’ spine was supremely grateful at the moment, and for which Grimes sincerely hoped McKnight’s knees would be grateful very soon. For now McKnight was lying on his side because that afforded the best view. And he was so excited Grimes could smell it, which made it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. Or mouth.
Grimes’ cock was hard. Very hard. McKnight had made sure of that. It was hard to tell how on purpose that had been, since McKnight had the ability to make Grimes hard with not much more than a look. About an hour after lunch, McKnight had sat Grimes down in the kitchen and shaved his face totally smooth. Then Grimes had cleaned up while McKnight leaned against the counter and watched him. Avidly. And then about ten minutes later, he’d given Grimes a look and said, “I’m in the mood for a little PT.”
Boom. Grimes got hard.
He’d intended to change into his usual workout clothes but McKnight shook his head. Okay. Well, the mat and bench and weights were in the basement where no one could see them. Why not?
McKnight had shrugged off his clothes casually, as if he did this sort of thing every day. Come to think of it, now that he was home again, he could do this every day, if Grimes’ spine could take it.
While Grimes did some warm up stretches, McKnight lay back on the bench and did a few presses. Grimes found it quite difficult to complete a graceful sun salute while naked and fully erect. McKnight stopped actually lifting the weights and just sort of caressed the bar as he watched Grimes make himself limber.
As soon as Grimes positioned himself on his back, McKnight got down on the mat. Grimes had known that would happen. That’s why he’d purchased the three mats instead of one or two. Soon, he had his legs parallel with his upper body. Bent in two.
“Good boy,” McKnight said. “Stop if you feel any strain.” Grimes almost laughed. His whole body was strain, from head to toe, with his toes over his head and his knees slowly lowering to the mat.
McKnight groaned softly.
Grimes stayed calm. He’d been practicing, the whole time McKnight was gone. But it was a little different with McKnight’s hot breath on his face. He lifted his head and curled his hips the extra little bit and the head of his cock bumped his lips and slid to the side, slick and smooth.
“Motherfucker,” McKnight rasped in his ear.
Grimes opened his mouth and took the head inside.
To suck and be sucked. To suck one’s own cock. He was completely over his old aversion to being sucked. He’d grown to like the feel of a mouth on his cock very much indeed. Not that he’d ever been averse to the feeling of lips and tongue on his cock. That had always felt good. He was over his fear of inappropriate orgasm, mostly because McKnight didn’t seem to think any orgasm was inappropriate. So it felt good to be sucked, even when he was doing the sucking.
It wasn’t the same as when McKnight fell on him like a starving man. When McKnight went at his cock, he was overwhelmed. But now, Grimes knew what Grimes was going to do, and how he was going to do it. He knew how much pressure his lips would put around his shaft, when his tongue would move. But he wasn’t prepared for McKnight talking like that.
“I love your mouth,” McKnight said. “I love your lips. I love your tongue. Let me see your tongue. Oh, yeah. Like that. Just like that. I love your cock. I love how smooth it is right there, right where the tip of your tongue is. Yeah, lick around that spot.”
It was Grimes’ mouth on his own cock, but it might as well have been McKnight’s because it was going to do everything McKnight told it to do. And now Grimes’ cock was Grimes’ focus. The smoothness of the head and the shape of it against the roof of his mouth, the ridges formed by veins, the small but crucial distance he could make the skin slide when he pursed his lips. The mild taste of the pre-ejaculate compared to the saltier taste of the skin. The smell of his balls.
He’d done this regularly the whole time McKnight was gone, but it had been mostly muscle conditioning and stretching, it hadn’t been all that sexual. He would get into position and slide his lips around his cock but he didn’t feel like sucking until he thought about McKnight watching and that made him think about how McKnight wasn’t there, so mostly he would turn his head to the side and hold the position as a workout. Practice only. Besides, he wasn’t supposed to come until McKnight could watch.
This, however, was nothing like a workout or practice. This was all sex. He sucked, and it was like drawing out his own energy and putting it right back in again. His toes tingled.
“Oh, fuck, your mouth is so beautiful. Your cock is so beautiful. I wish that was my mouth on your cock, but I want to watch you come.”
Grimes’ moan had a desperate quality somehow distinct from the desperate quality it had when it was McKnight’s cock he was sucking.
So far, McKnight had not touched him. All he’d felt was the mat against his back and his knees beside his ears, and his lips around his cock head. Or was that his cock head between his lips? Then McKnight’s fingers slid under his head to support it; Grimes relaxed his neck. Two fingers crept around his hip, but instead of going for his asshole, as Grimes thought he might, McKnight stroked behind his balls. Slow, steady strokes of the taut skin.
“Mmm, smooth. So smooth,” McKnight breathed out. He pushed harder and Grimes felt those two fingers all over his body. “That’s it, so good, that’s right,” McKnight urged him on.
Everything spiraled in on the swollen flesh in his mouth and the spot McKnight pressed against.
“Motherfu… Yes! Come, John! Please!”
Grimes was wound so tight, strained so far, he was shocked by the first spurt of come in his mouth. He’d tasted himself so often – from McKnight’s skin, McKnight’s mouth, McKnight’s boots, the table, the floor, the stairs – but that was nothing like this. Nothing like the flood of pure sex in his mouth. He vaguely heard McKnight telling him not to swallow. He tried not to but some slipped into his throat anyway. McKnight flattened his palm and Grimes could feel his asshole pulsing against it right before things started to go a bit black.
McKnight steadied him and helped his body unfold. “Easy, John,” he was saying. Grimes nodded and let his legs lower to the mat. McKnight put his hands on either side of Grimes’ face.
“Jesus, you’re amazing. That was amazing,” McKnight said right before he kissed Grimes and sucked the come into his own mouth. Grimes chased it with his tongue and they kissed like that for a long time, until Grimes’ cock stopped throbbing quite so much and his heart rate slowed to a manageable level, and all the come had been swallowed by one or the other. Absorbed back into their bodies.
McKnight pulled off him and stared down, looking as dazed as Grimes felt. “Ten minutes,” he said, and rolled onto his back.
Grimes looked at the clock. It had been six minutes. McKnight had not moved. He was lying on his back with his eyes closed, breathing deliberately. His cock was huge. It was always big. Thick. But this was unreal. So full. So fucking hard, lying against McKnight’s stomach, dark and shining, the exposed head wet and tempting, skin pulled tighter than Grimes had ever seen it.
Grimes waited and watched McKnight center his energy. He could have sucked it. He could have put his mouth over the blunt head and worked his lips along the shaft and rammed it to the back of his throat. But he didn’t, because McKnight had said ten minutes.
Eight minutes. Besides, McKnight wouldn’t want sucking after that. Or maybe he would. That would be kinky, to be sucked by the mouth of someone who’d just sucked his own cock. No, McKnight wouldn’t want to be sucked. He would want the sucking of Grimes’ cock to be the only sucking, so it would be more memorable. Grimes remembered where he’d stashed the lube. He shifted his leg and his cock fell between his thighs, softened and sensitive. He stretched his legs and felt it in his hips; he’d never stayed in the position that long with that sort of intensity. The taste would never go away entirely.
Nine minutes. Grimes turned his back to McKnight and reached for the lube. He didn’t have much time to get ready. He put his hand between his legs and shoved two fingers inside with as much lube possible. He was relaxed from the orgasm, and went loose as soon as his fingers began to probe, so he was more than ready to be fucked. But McKnight was huge, and his control would only last so long, so he stuffed a little more lube inside.
Ten minutes.
McKnight was on him. Grimes was pushed face down on the mat, legs shoved wide. McKnight’s cock pushed into him.
Fuck. It was a good thing McKnight had insisted on the ten minutes to take the edge off.
Full. Fucking full. Stretched wide but more than that. It was total connection. It wasn’t a cock stuffed into a hole; it was McKnight immersed in Grimes.
Grimes forced his whole body to go limp. It was the only way to accommodate McKnight without injury.
McKnight pushed Grimes’ hands up over his head and held them down as he pushed in, pulled out, grunted and heaved against Grimes’ back. Over and over, stroking Grimes inside, weight pressing Grimes into the earth.
McKnight groaned against Grimes’ shoulder. He was saying his name. So Grimes said, “Danny,” and McKnight sobbed his release.
Grimes didn’t feel it in his cock. His cock was out of the picture. Done for. But there was this strange thrumming, like an orgasm deep inside, so when McKnight started to pump, Grimes’ insides were moving along with him, like a dance within.
McKnight let go of Grimes’ wrists.
“Fuck.”
“Oh,” McKnight replied. And then he rolled off his weight off Grimes, pulling Grimes with him so he stayed buried inside. “Don’t want to leave you,” he admitted.
Good. Grimes didn’t want him to leave.
“Ever.”
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Coming soon: 44 The Suit
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