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Title: The Uniform
Rating: NC-17 - Fucking. And more kink than you can count.
Disclaimer: Not the movie, not the real guys, not intended to infringe on anything but the bounds of decency.
Summary: McKnight seems to be having a little trouble deciding what he wants. Or not.
The Uniform
Grimes noticed McKnight’s uniform draped across the back of a kitchen chair. He wondered why McKnight had changed. He wasn’t about to complain about the jeans and t-shirt; it was rare he got to see McKnight in civvies. Partial civvies - the shirt was, he was sure, government issue. Maybe the uniform had made Roz nervous. He could tell she wasn’t into the military thing. Cammies tend to freak out civilians at the oddest times.
Out of habit, he folded the BDU, and waited for McKnight to finish in the john. Linda’s purse lay on the kitchen table where McKnight had tossed it. Grimes peeked inside - wallet, keys, hairbrush. Funny how women needed a purse to carry stuff like that around, and men just brought whatever would fit in their pockets. But then, if men carried purses, they’d probably bring more junk along when they went out. McKnight’s wallet, he noticed, was buttoned securely in the right back pocket of his trousers. Grimes would have to remember to take it out before he did the laundry. What time was it anyway? Grimes sniggered. He wasn’t used to drinking so much wine…
He drank a glass of water so he wouldn’t get dehydrated and have a headache.
The formal had been agreeable up to a point. The dinner was nice and everyone was friendly and he did enjoy dancing, but it was a bit tedious after a while, and he really wanted to be alone with McKnight. He’d been all dressed up with the wrong people looking at him, not to mention grabbing at him. He really hoped McKnight liked the suit.
He was a bit nervous about the suit and the way it made him look. It made him look… normal. Not that he thought he looked particularly odd when he wasn’t wearing the suit, but the suit made him more like other people. He heard McKnight come out of the bathroom.
“Do you think this suit makes me look more like other people, sir?” he asked.
McKnight looked stunned for a moment. And then he grabbed the end of the tie and pulled Grimes close. “I don’t think anyone looks as good as you,” McKnight rumbled, and his voice had that raspy, low quality that made Grimes’ balls tingle.
Oh, yeah. He liked the suit. Excellent.
“Home, soldier,” McKnight said once he’d finished licking around Grimes’ lips.
Okay. No problem. Grimes picked up the uniform and headed out the door. During the walk home, he hoped McKnight would forget all about keeping the suit clean and throw him against a tree, but it was kind of cold out. How had that happened? Summer was long gone, as were all the chances to fuck outdoors. Oh, well, there was always next summer. Grimes hummed a bit as he walked along the path.
Yeah, a little too much wine. So what? He wasn’t drunk or anything, just in a happy mood. Maybe a little bit giddy. He liked the feeling. He’d like it even better when McKnight was feeling him. They were almost at the cottage, so that wouldn’t be long now. Soon they’d be inside, and McKnight would tell him again how good he looked, right before he ripped the suit off and…
Thud.
Grimes’ back hit the trunk of the last tree before the clearing.
The bark was cold, even through his clothes, but McKnight was warm up against him. “Fucking tease,” McKnight growled.
“Tease, sir?” Grimes’ hands were caught up in McKnight’s uniform folded across his chest, crushed by McKnight’s barrel chest.
“Mmm, you smell good.” McKnight nuzzled his hair. There was some kind of gel Linda had used. It was Roz’s actually. Honey and nut something. Maybe he smelled like food.
Oh, god, McKnight was scraping his teeth on the side of Grimes’ neck. Grimes wondered if he could get his pants off without ripping them. Ah, fuck, he wanted to be naked fast. Naked against McKnight. To feel jeans rubbing against his bare skin, and then the open fly of the jeans scratching him and McKnight’s hard cock, hot against his stomach. He whimpered, unable to let go of the uniform, but McKnight wasn’t trying to undress him at all. Damn!
McKnight pulled away. “Let’s get you inside before I fuck you against that tree.”
“Honestly, sir, I’m fine with you fucking me against the tree.”
McKnight groaned and grabbed him by the tie again. “Home.” He tugged.
Fuck. Grimes stumbled and let McKnight lead him home. By the tie. He hadn’t worn a collar in a long time, but it felt natural.… aw, fuck. Suits are supposed to give you power and make you dominant but he’d never wanted to be on the bottom so much in his whole life.
Well, maybe he had. Maybe every time McKnight had ever fucked his ass. Grimes giggled at that and McKnight gave him a hard look as they walked up to the door.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Grimes was. There was no denying it. He was giddy, alright. He clutched the uniform tightly.
“Get upstairs,” McKnight ordered.
Okay. Well, obviously it was going to be that kind of a night. Excellent.
To be honest, Grimes was a little tired of leading. All those dances. Making small talk with strangers. Being the perfect boyfriend to Linda. It felt great to be told what to do for a change - or rather, once more.
He went directly up to their room and put the uniform on the dresser. McKnight was right behind him. He brushed the shoulder of Grimes’ jacket. “Got some bark there,” he said. “And…” He picked something out of Grimes’ hair and sighed. “Look at you. You dress up so nice.” He adjusted the tie and straightened the jacket and stood back. “So nice.”
Grimes felt awkward. On display. Normally it was okay, undergoing inspection, but there was something weird about being in the suit, which was not the uniform that usually got inspected; the suit was really the uniform of the civilian establishment, which was something to which he did not feel as if he belonged.
Plus, he was used to being naked when McKnight looked at him like that.
“Take it off.”
“Huh? Sir?”
“The suit. I want it off. Now. But leave the briefs. And that undershirt.”
Right. That was going to be even more awkward. Grimes slid off the jacket, and McKnight nodded. Grimes hung it on the back of the door. He started to unbutton the shirt.
“No, take the pants off first.”
Fine. McKnight wanted him in shirt and briefs and socks. That was a little weird, but it was somehow easier to handle than the suit. He took off the pants and draped them over a hanger.
“Socks.”
Good. Grimes liked to be barefoot. He was totally over worrying about scars. And black dress socks look a little geeky with underwear and a dress shirt.
“Now. The shirt.”
Grimes unbuttoned slowly. Bit of a tease, but why not? McKnight had already said he was one. He loosened the tie.
“But leave the tie.”
Fun and games. Grimes removed the shirt without taking the tie off. Now he realized that the white undershirt with no sleeves with the black briefs… with his cock clearly outlined under the stretchy black… so hard… that was kind of… he was going to think “kinky” but it was nothing compared to the jeans with no ass so he settled on “odd”. No, that wasn’t it. Gay. That’s what it was. Definitely gay. And so was he. So that was okay. Better than okay - McKnight was close to drooling.
McKnight held up his uniform trousers. “Put these on,” he said.
Uh. Okay. Grimes took the cammies. They were too big for him, of course. They would barely stay up. He pulled them up over the briefs.
“Maybe I’d like them better without the briefs,” McKnight suggested.
All that loose pants material rubbing against his hard cock would drive him crazy. “Maybe I like the briefs, sir.”
McKnight raised an eyebrow, but then he smiled. “Okay. Keep the briefs. You like being all tucked in like that, don’t you?” He reached over and put his hand over the bulge. Grimes whimpered for the second time that night. He tried to rub himself against McKnight’s hand, but McKnight pulled away. “Go on,” he said. “I want to see you in uniform.”
“I could dig out one of my old uniforms, sir. That would fit better.” And be a little less torturous. He could smell McKnight on the uniform. He just knew McKnight wasn’t going to fuck him right away, so he didn’t want to put on something that would make him want to get fucked. Right. Fucking. Now.
“Can’t wait. I need to see you in uniform now.” McKnight made a show of adjusting himself. He was naked under the jeans. That was obvious. Grimes could see the outline of his cock, the shape of the head, the thickness of it. And he wanted it. Right. Fucking. Now.
“Yes, sir.” He buttoned up the fly of the too-large woodland-colored BDU trousers. Watched the waistline sink down to his hips. He was glad McKnight let him keep on the briefs. The reinforcement patches on the seat would have driven him crazy. And the wallet in the back pocket was hanging way too low. It should have been resting against the curve of his ass, but he could feel the top edge of it digging into the underside, exactly where he wanted McKnight to grab him right about now.
“Tuck in your shirt.”
Grimes stretched the t-shirt down and tucked it in. He looked like a kid playing dress up. McKnight was probably getting off on that. He kept his eyes down, as was proper in this sort of situation, but kept sneaking looks at McKnight’s crotch. The lump was fat and long and McKnight’s hand jerked beside it before McKnight lifted it to stroke down Grimes’ bare arm.
“Good boy,” McKnight said thoughtfully. Grimes squirmed. McKnight pushed him back. The wallet made an impression against Grimes’ ass when it slammed against the edge of the dresser. McKnight bent him back until the top of his head touched the mirror. Something sharp dug into the front of Grimes’ thigh. He must have winced, because McKnight shifted his hips back enough to shove his hand in his front pocket and pull out…
Linda’s lipstick?
McKnight popped the cap off.
Okay. This really was getting weird.
“You know,” McKnight said in that conversational tone he often used when he was about to order Grimes to lick the come off his boots, or spread his legs and touch his toes, or open his mouth really wide, “this color suits you.”
Grimes tried to focus on the lipstick. It was an ordinary color. Not too red. A little pink, maybe. Not like bubblegum. Kind of dark but not bright at all. Women might call a color like that coral, he thought. And then he remembered that he was bent backwards over the dresser and he was wearing McKnight’s woodland cammo pants and McKnight was eyeing his lips.
“It’s the same color your lips get after you’ve been sucking my cock for a long time.”
“Really?” Grimes’ voice squeaked a little at the end.
McKnight nodded.
“Well, maybe I could suck your cock for a while and then we could compare. Sir. Like a test.”
McKnight shook his head. “Can’t wait. I need to see it now.”
Boy, McKnight sure was impatient tonight. But Grimes shouldn’t be critical. He was being impatient too, and he had been a bit of a tease when he was putting on the suit, which was hours ago, and then he’d taken his time taking it off, and god knows what McKnight had been thinking of while he was gone. The stick was touching his upper lip, a little to the left. He could feel his skin move with it.
McKnight moved it away a fraction of an inch. “How the hell do women put this stuff on?”
Grimes stretched his lips the way he could remember seeing his mother do when she put her lipstick on. When he was a little boy, he always knew she was going out when he smelled the lipstick. Waxy. Artificial. This didn’t smell nearly as strong as his memory of lipstick, but it still had a smell. It also had a creamy feel on his lips. McKnight worked slowly, carefully, as if it really mattered that he got it even – after growling a bit when Grimes stretched his lips. Yeah, that must have looked a bit…suggestive.
Grimes had never worn makeup in his life. Except for that one time he was in a school play, but they’d just put freckles on him and a straw hat and he was an extra in the schoolroom scene in Tom Sawyer. Now he was wearing lipstick. It made his lips feel heavier. Fuller. They probably looked fuller too. They probably looked fucking obscene, like he’d been sucking McKnight’s cock all night. He’d still rather be doing that, but McKnight was breathing heavy and rubbing his hard cock between Grimes’ legs. That was good too.
“Motherfucker,” McKnight breathed out. He dropped the lipstick and his hand crept up Grimes’ chest and spread under his chin, holding his head high and still. McKnight tilted his head and looked at Grimes from a different angle. “I should have taken Linda’s eyeliner too.”
Eyeliner was taking things a bit far, wasn’t it? The way McKnight was looking at him, it was almost scary. Grimes wriggled his hips against McKnight. “Sir… please.”
“Lick your lips.”
Grimes licked his lips and McKnight groaned. The makeup tasted weird. Grimes hadn’t really noticed it when he kissed Linda at the dance, because that hadn’t been a real kiss. But this was real, and even the feel of his own tongue on his lips was turning him on more.
McKnight’s tongue on his lips made his head reel. And that was nothing compared to what McKnight’s lips on his lips did. They were dry, compared to the smooth cream, and hot. And they pressed hard. Their teeth clashed for a second and then McKnight’s tongue was in his mouth and Grimes kissed back for all he was worth. If they kept it up long enough, he was sure he’d come from just that and the pressure of McKnight’s thighs and hips and cock against him.
His head bounced a bit on the mirror when McKnight finally let go. The color was smeared on McKnight’s lips now, darker than Grimes thought it had been. McKnight was breathing hard and pulsing his hips against Grimes.
“Pretty,” McKnight said. Grimes watched him lick his lips and make a face. “But I don’t like the taste.” Neither did Grimes, particularly. But he liked the idea of seeing the kiss on McKnight’s lips after the fact. “I like the taste of you much better,” McKnight said, and spun Grimes around so his hips pressed against the edge of the dresser and he was facing the mirror. “Don’t move.”
McKnight left, and Grimes did what he always did when McKnight ordered him not to move. He stayed put. He was inches from the mirror. McKnight wanted him to look at himself, or he wouldn’t have turned him toward the mirror, so he looked.
Actually, that was the same color his lips got after sucking McKnight’s cock for a long time. Not after a simple blow job, but after a prolonged session of kneeling on the floor with McKnight’s cock between his lips, sometimes sucking, sometimes licking, sometimes lying with his head on McKnight’s thigh with his eyes closed and the thick cock keeping his mouth open while he rested and McKnight stroked his hair absently as he watched the game or enjoyed a smoke or read reports. When he did it for that long, Grimes could feel what was happening to his lips – reddening, getting a little swollen, just slightly abused. Not injured, but mildly abraded from the times when he worked his lips up and down the fat shaft and squeezed tight while keeping his teeth out of the way.
Why couldn’t he be doing that now?
He didn’t know about pretty. What the fuck was pretty, anyway? But his lips did look plumper than usual and it was a nice color. His eyes, though. Fuck, his eyes were bright blue, wide and sparkling. They would look good with eyeliner. Not a lot. He wouldn’t want to look like a slut. But a little bit of black outlining them would make them stand out even more.
Okay, yes, it would look slutty. But McKnight would love it. Grimes was going to have to buy some eyeliner. It wouldn’t be hygienic to borrow from Linda. Definitely. He would buy some eyeliner, and he would practice putting it on, and then McKnight would come home one day and Grimes would be waiting for him.
McKnight came back with his face clean. He had a washcloth, which he draped over the doorknob. He moved behind Grimes, looked in the mirror over Grimes’ shoulder into Grimes’ eyes. “Good boy. You been looking at how pretty you are?” Grimes could only moan a bit and rub his cock against the dresser and wonder why the hell he didn’t have McKnight’s cock inside him somewhere. McKnight reached around, grabbed the tie and pulled down, so Grimes’ forehead slid down the mirror and he had to shift his ass back more and finally his head was resting on McKnight’s shirt, not so neatly folded as it had been before, so he was inhaling the scent of McKnight off the cammo while McKnight’s hands cupped his ass.
“Looks fine in woodland cammo,” McKnight mused. Detached. Like he had some whole other thing in mind. Grimes couldn’t imagine what was going to happen next. First the suit, and leading with the tie, then McKnight’s pants hanging off his hips, and then the whole thing with the lipstick. McKnight was being uncommonly fickle. Usually he picked one thing and stuck with it. Grimes figured he hadn’t wanted to damage the suit. The tie probably made him worry about hurting Grimes. Grimes guessed he didn’t look quite as good in the trousers as McKnight had hoped he would. Obviously the lipstick hadn’t lived up to its promise.
The worst part was that normally Grimes wouldn’t have time to do all this analysis - normally he would be too busy to evaluate. Action would be taking place. It was almost as if McKnight was stalling. Giving him ample time to back out. Or himself ample time to back out. Now he was sliding the tie up over Grimes’ head. Good. Grimes didn’t really like the tie. It was the least comfortable part of the suit.
“Dessert cammo didn’t suit you,” McKnight said. “It was the color. You look good in green.”
Fashion tips from Colonel McKnight, Grimes thought, barely suppressing a laugh. This was too surreal. Way too much wine. He was never going to drink like that again. Not if it was going to make him imagine things like this. Except he wasn’t imagining that thick, heavy cock pressing against his ass and the hands squeezing him. Damn the thickness of the stupid trousers! Sure you want protection from the elements and all that, but in this situation he wanted more detail! He wanted skin on skin. He wanted… McKnight draped over him suddenly. Okay, that was better - McKnight’s body pressing against his, mouth wet on his ear. “Do you need the edge taken off, soldier?”
Grimes clutched at the shirt beneath him. Edge. Off. That might be good. Even necessary. There wasn’t enough blood getting to his brain. “If you’d like that, sir,” he said.
“I’d like it a lot,” McKnight said. He straightened up, bringing Grimes up with him. “Mmm-mmm, look at you.” He slid his hand down into Grimes’ pants. It took a while for him to work his fingers under the waistband of the briefs, and for them to inch their way to Grimes’ tightly confined cock. “You’re gonna come in your pants if you don’t watch it.”
Please, was all Grimes could think. He let his head loll back on McKnight’s shoulder. Much better than looking at himself, with that lipstick smeared on his mouth. Not too smeared. There hadn’t been a whole lot of lip movement during the kiss. It was more of a tongue kiss than a lip kiss. But the color was bleeding beyond the edges of his lips, and he looked, yeah, he looked like a slut, especially with the little tiny t-shirt and the great big hand shoved down the pants that weren’t even his.
Without warning, McKnight unbuttoned the trousers and shoved them down, along with the briefs. Grimes’ cock sprang out and almost hit the edge of the dresser. “Ah, sir,” Grimes yelped. Too fast. Too sudden. Too cold! Jesus, fuck, McKnight had grabbed the washcloth and wrapped it around Grimes’ cock. “Aw, sir, what?… shit!”
McKnight ran his cold, damp hand up under Grimes’ t-shirt and rubbed it in a circle on his belly. “Takes the edge off,” he explained. “I want you to last.”
Fuck! This was not the kind of thing they’d ever done before. But once he got over the shock of it, Grimes kind of liked it. He liked the way McKnight was stroking him and petting him, unwrapping the cool cloth from his much less desperate cock, nuzzling his neck, taking control of everything, even how hard his cock got. Grimes let out his breath in short, sharp bursts. He could handle this.
His hands were tangled in the uniform. McKnight carefully extricated them, and then shook out the shirt. He slid one sleeve up over Grimes’ arm.
Grimes opened his eyes and stared in the mirror.
“Put it on,” McKnight ordered.
Grimes pulled the shirt on. Too big. Way too big. He hadn’t worn a uniform for a long time.
McKnight yanked the trousers back up, but he wasn’t so careful with the briefs. Grimes’ cock was sticking up out of them, and the black material was bunched around the base of it, a little damp, pressing against his balls. McKnight ignored that and buttoned up the fly again. He brought the washcloth to Grimes’ face and wiped the lipstick from his mouth. Mostly. His lips were still stained a bit darker than was natural. Natural for when he hadn’t been sucking a lot of cock.
“Look, you’re in uniform.” McKnight tossed the washcloth to the side. Grimes blinked. He was. With a bird insignia and everything. “Now you get to be the commanding officer. What do you want?” McKnight asked.
“I want you to fuck me,” Grimes answered. Totally honestly, he might add.
“No, no, that’s not right. You have to give me an order.”
Like hell he did.
McKnight turned him around again. “Come on. Command me.” The words didn’t fit. To start with, he was ordering Grimes to order him, which didn’t really work with the whole Grimes-taking-command scenario. But that was to be expected, since McKnight was used to giving the orders, at home and at work. On top of that, his gestures weren’t matching the words, because he had his hands gripping the front of the shirt in a vaguely aggressive way, or maybe Grimes was even tipsier than he thought and McKnight was holding him up.
Since McKnight wasn’t acting in a terribly submissive fashion, Grimes was sure McKnight was joking. Part of the fun and games. This had something to do with the suit. The tie. The lipstick. The cold cloth on his cock. A little bit mocking. Some humiliation. Show him who’s boss. Was that it? Did it matter? Did it fucking matter when McKnight was kissing him again and he had a mouth full of tongue and lips moving a whole lot and all that heat pressing against him so he tilted back again and ended up sitting on the dresser where he‘d been before the whole crazy lipstick/washcloth/command thing ever started…
Grimes lifted one leg and wrapped it around the back of McKnight’s thigh. Cock to cock. Much better. The uniform rubbed against him and drove his naked skin to distraction the way he’d known it would. His balls were straining against the briefs. Everything wanted to be set free.
And then McKnight started moving down. All the way down. He was kneeling on the fucking floor and he was nuzzling the fly of the pants. He had to keep one hand up to hold the shirt up, because it was too long on Grimes and would have covered his cock, and the other hand gripped Grimes’ thigh trying to lift it up over McKnight’s shoulder. “Come on, order me,” he mumbled against the cammo.
Fine, Grimes thought. “Fuck me,” Grimes said.
“Not that,” McKnight barked. For someone who was supposed to be taking orders, he sure was being bossy.
Grimes cast about for something to say. He couldn’t order McKnight to do stuff. It was just wrong. But then, if it was what McKnight wanted, then it wasn’t ordering. Except it was ordering when McKnight ordered him to do things even when he really wanted to do them, so he couldn’t use that as a technicality. “I can’t,” he said.
McKnight rose again, looking a little put off. “Just do it, John. Please. For me.”
For him. For him Grimes could think of an order. “Okay. Take off your shirt.”
McKnight grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and yanked it off over his head.
Wow. Had McKnight ever been bare-chested while Grimes was fully clothed? In fucking uniform? Grimes realized his hands were shaking when he stretched them out. He planted his palms on McKnight’s solid chest. He moved them tentatively. Hot skin, scratchy chest hair, solid solid solid. That’s what Grimes always thought whenever McKnight took his shirt off.
McKnight wasn’t holding him by the shirt anymore. His hands were resting at his sides. But he wasn’t exactly being submissive either. He pushed his chest out so Grimes’ hand would press harder. Grimes took the hint and moved his hands, pressed his fingers into his pecs. He circled his thumbs around McKnight’s nipples. He felt the nipples get a little harder, a little sharper. He was supposed to be commanding. This was his chance to do the things he wouldn’t normally do. He took a deep breath.
“Tell me if you like that,” he said. Not a very strong order, but he wanted to know so bad.
McKnight shifted a bit, and pressed forward. “Yeah. I like that.”
He did. His voice didn’t sound like that unless he really liked it.
Grimes leaned down and licked across a nipple. McKnight’s hands clenched in his hair. Both of them. McKnight moaned and rocked and Grimes felt a kind of power he’d never felt before, no matter how much pleasure he’d given McKnight. He sucked, and there was more moaning, so he bit. Lightly. But he bit. He actually bit.
“Aw, fuck,” McKnight moaned. He grabbed Grimes’ shoulders and pulled him close.
Grimes leaned against at McKnight. What had got into him? He was going to have to ask Roz what they’d been talking about. And how many beers McKnight had downed. “I’m a little confused, sir.”
McKnight backed up and grabbed him by the collar again. “I’ve wanted to see you in my uniform for so long.”
“Well, you’ve seen me. Now I can take it off and we can fuck.”
McKnight got a dangerous glitter in his eyes. It might have been a mistake to say that. Or not. Grimes allowed himself to be turned, steered backward, tumbled onto the bed. No mistake about it. This was what he wanted - McKnight on him pawing at him, grappling with him, rubbing all over him, sloppy kisses and grunts and being pushed into the mattress. The room spun a bit and maybe Grimes was too drunk for something this energetic. He tried to get a grip on McKnight but he kept moving, first nibbling Grimes’ neck then rubbing his face against his crotch, then mumbling against his stomach. The effects of the cold cloth on his cock were long gone. He was hot all over.
“Oh, sir, please, I don’t want to give the orders but I need this uniform off, now!”
Only a couple of buttons had ever been done up, so it didn’t take McKnight long to push the shirt open and was run his hand over Grimes’ stomach and chest. “I really like this t-shirt,” he said.
Grimes didn’t. “I can get another one,” he promised.
McKnight clenched his fist and tore the shirt down the front. Grimes tried to wriggle out of the uniform shirt and managed to get one arm out before McKnight’s weight pinned him to the mattress.
“Fuck,” McKnight groaned.
“Yes,” Grimes moaned.
“Fuck me,” McKnight moaned some more.
Grimes pushed McKnight off him. “Sir!”
“John!”
They stared at each other.
They both lunged forward and the grappling began again.
“Don’t need that, sir,” he said. Grimes just wanted McKnight all over him. He didn’t need to fuck at all, not really. hey could just roll around and rub against each other and he’d be fine. Except McKnight was unzipping his jeans and then he undid just the top button of the trousers and yanked them down so Grimes’ cock was out and then McKnight knelt up and shoved his jeans down.
Oh, fuck. Grimes did want to fuck. He wanted that cock inside him. Right Fucking. Now. McKnight’s cock was just like McKnight – beefy and thick and made for Grimes. “Sir, I want your cock. That’s what I’m ordering, sir. I want it now, inside me.”
McKnight grabbed his own cock and pumped it a few times. Roughly. Grimes gasped. McKnight smirked and put his hand over Grimes’ mouth. “I thought you gave up command.”
Actually, Grimes was pretty sure McKnight had taken it back. Maybe. He wriggled his tongue and got a tiny taste of McKnight’s cock. If he could flip himself over and get his ass up in the air, he was sure McKnight wouldn’t be able to resist it. But McKnight was straddling his hips. He’d somehow got the jeans off when Grimes wasn’t looking. Probably when Grimes was licking his palm and between his fingers and wishing he McKnight was fucking his mouth. That was sneaky of him. Now Grimes couldn’t move at all.
McKnight reached for the lube beside the bed. He squirted some in his hand and grabbed Grimes’ cock, which suddenly deflated to about half hard.
It wasn’t on purpose. He didn’t mean to be uncooperative. But the idea of fucking McKnight terrified him. It was wrong on so many levels. Also, the idea of not getting McKnight’s cock inside him was wrong. He couldn’t even spread his legs. He might as well be tied up.
McKnight wrested his shirt out from under Grimes’ shoulder and pulled it off his arm. He slid into the sleeve and pulled it around and then he was wearing the uniform. Sort of. He had nothing on underneath, and the shirt wasn’t done up, so McKnight’s cock was sticking out about a mile and his chest was bare and it was making Grimes’ dizziness worse, but McKnight was wearing the insignia. “There. I’m in charge again. I want you to fuck me, so you’re gonna fuck me, soldier. That’s all there is to it.”
Well, when he put it that way… and when he stroked up and down Grimes’ cock like that, so firmly. So commandingly. And when he leaned down, totally naked except for the open uniform and on top of Grimes, and rasped, “Your cock feels so good. I can’t wait to feel it inside me,” that was hard to resist. Impossible, in fact. Grimes whimpered and thrust his hips up just enough to make McKnight shuffle forward just enough.
Oh, no, that would not do. It was going to hurt. It was all wrong. Totally wrong way to take a cherry. McKnight was rubbing the head of Grimes’ cock against himself, between his legs, behind his balls, getting closer. Sure, he’d have lube on him, but only on the outside. That wouldn’t be enough… Grimes had to stop him!
“You’ll get hurt!” he yelped.
“I’ll be in control,” McKnight told him confidently.
Grimes grabbed McKnight’s rolled up cap from where it was tucked into the front breast pocket of McKnight’s shirt and crammed it on his head. “Sorry, sir, but on your back.” And Grimes pushed as hard as he could. Amazingly, McKnight rolled over on his back.
“What the hell?”
Grimes climbed up on top of McKnight and took a moment to kiss him. Hard. McKnight went a bit limp beneath him. A bit less rigid, except for his cock, which was a solid slab of … not thinking about McKnight’s cock, he told himself. He had to concentrate on the fucking. “Sir,” he explained, “I’m not going to disobey orders, but I can’t let you hurt yourself. I’m going to have to take back command.”
McKnight stared up at him with his mouth open. Grimes took that as an invitation and kissed again. He kissed McKnight, not the other way around. McKnight got very cooperative and spread his legs.
No, no, no. While Grimes liked the idea of being able to watch McKnight while he fucked him, the angle would be wrong. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it the best he could, giving the most pleasure possible and causing the least possible amount of… discomfort.
Pain was moot. McKnight didn’t really care about pain. But if he was so bound and determined to get fucked in the ass, it was the least Grimes could do to make it special.
He slid off McKnight. “Roll over,” he ordered.
McKnight flipped the cap off Grimes' head. "Okay, but no one is in charge."
That was absurd. Someone had to be in charge. They'd kill each other if someone didn't keep a lid on things. "Just roll over," Grimes said.
McKnight did as he was told, and Grimes found his hands shaking again. Calm, he told himself. But he had every reason to be nervous – he’d never fucked a man before, and he wasn’t just fucking any man, he was fucking his commanding officer. He tried to remember the first time he was ever fucked. No, that was no good. That had been a bit of a disaster. He remembered the second time he’d ever been fucked. That had been much better. He stroked McKnight’s back gently.
“Aw, don’t be like that,” McKnight grumbled.
Of course. He wouldn’t want to be babied. Grimes massaged his back more firmly and gave his ass a firm pat. Nice and solid everywhere. Grimes traced down the crack of McKnight’s ass. Nice ass, he thought. Meaty. Lots to hold onto, if the fucking ever got to that point. He couldn’t really imagine it getting to that point. He could imagine lubing up his cock and climbing onto McKnight and rubbing his slick cock up and down the crack and that was as far as his imagination could go. He would have to force reality to go further. He dipped his hand down and brushed his fingers over McKnight’s asshole.
McKnight gasped.
So did Grimes.
McKnight was wet.
Lubed.
Prepared.
Fuck!
He must have… in the bathroom… that’s why he hadn’t fucked Grimes against the tree… he had this planned… but he had been stalling… trying to get his nerve up… figuring out how to get Grimes to cooperate…
Grimes rubbed in circles, gently at first, pressing a bit more, until McKnight grabbed the sheets and spread his legs more and groaned helplessly. Oh, yeah. Lots of nerve endings there, and Grimes aimed to make every one of them want more. Perfect. He pressed the pad of one finger inside. McKnight stopped groaning and started to pant.
“Oh, God, John, don’t stop.”
Grimes had no intention of stopping. The thought of McKnight getting himself ready for Grimes – not telling him but stretching himself and lubing himself so when the time came he’d be ready – it overcame all of Grimes’ doubts. He kept his fingertip at the opening where all the nerve endings were. Nerves on fire. Nerves desperately wanting more. He would have to get his finger inside, at least one, two would be better, three ideal.
McKnight certainly seemed to be enjoying himself, and that didn’t change when Grimes pushed further in, so he started to put a second finger in. McKnight made a gurgling sound and said, “Yeah,” so Grimes kept making it feel good. He was going to have to put his cock inside soon. He worried that it might go soft again, but he kept that image of McKnight, in the bathroom… where’d he get the lube? Grimes twitched his leg and felt the small tube in the left cargo pocket. How long had McKnight been planning this?
Since he’d seen Grimes in the suit.
That did it. Time to fuck. He squirted some more lube on his cock and climbed between McKnight’s legs. He was hard, and very slick. Too slick. It was a ridiculous amount of lube. But really, you can never have too much lube. Not with a virgin. He held the base of his cock and slid the head up and down the crack.
“Stop stalling,” McKnight moaned. “I want you in me.”
Grimes stopped moving his cock and nestled it against McKnight’s asshole. “Quiet, soldier,” he said. “I’m aiming.” He moved his cock in circles to spread the lube, and to make sure McKnight was ready.
He wasn’t, of course. No one was ever ready for the first time they got fucked in the ass. But Grimes had done the best he could. He pressed against the tight hole.
McKnight’s hands clenched. It had to hurt a bit. Grimes had to help him relax. He would have to use words. But the only words he could think of off the top of his head were ones along the lines of “Your turn to fuck me, sir.” He would have to force reality. He would have to pretend he was McKnight and that he was fucking Grimes.
“Nice, tight hole for me to fuck,” he said.
McKnight’s hand tightened more, but in a good way.
“You wanted me to fuck you the minute you saw me in that suit, didn’t you?” Grimes purred. He pushed and the hole opened a bit. Most painful part. He should up the ante, just to get over the rough part. “Thought I looked good, didn’t you? Didn’t want me to fuck anyone else…” That was absurd. How could he want to do anything with anyone else? The head was almost in, and McKnight was straining not to move away, so it had to be working. Grimes bit his shoulder and pushed in hard. Ah, fuck, that was tight. So fucking tight on his cock. McKnight had described this to him, how the opening would be so tight and the inside so hot and snug and perfect, and he’d been absolutely right but Grimes had not been prepared.
McKnight heaved under him, and Grimes had to grab his shoulders to stay inside and on top and in control. “Shhh, sir, it’s okay. Give it a second. You’ll get used to it.”
McKnight’s head moved back and forth. “Don’t think I want to,” he whispered.
Yeah, Grimes knew that feeling. The flailing was his favorite part, too. But McKnight, being McKnight, wasn’t flailing. He was enduring stoically. His asshole was squeezing Grimes’ cock furiously, though. Trying to push him out. Or pull him in. Or make it stop. Or make it last forever. Grimes tilted his hips and McKnight roared.
“Motherfucker.”
Grimes had been wondering when that was going to happen.
“Jesus, John, fuck me for fuck’s sake. Fuck!”
That too.
Grimes gripped McKnight’s shoulders and rolled his hips. Fuck. He just wanted to keep going in and in and in. But that’s not fucking. He had to go out, then in, then out again. That was good too. Really good. Too good. He wasn’t going to be able to keep this up for long. He’d never been held this tightly by anything in his life. He wished he could just let go and fuck his brains out, but he had to keep McKnight’s comfort in mind. So he didn’t fuck deep or hard. He kept it steady and shallow.
It wasn’t enough for McKnight. “John, you have to fuck me, really fuck me. Come on.”
“Sir.”
“John.”
“Danny.”
McKnight clenched around him. Grimes whimpered. He couldn’t do this anymore. He could not. But he couldn’t come in McKnight. McKnight wasn’t ready for that. He wouldn’t know about cleaning himself up after. Sometimes Grimes had to slip away to empty himself when he was in danger of making a mess. He couldn’t let McKnight know about that. It would be awkward. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could come while he was fucking like this. It was so tight. But he needed… he pulled out.
McKnight wailed. Grimes nestled his cock between McKnight’s cheeks. So much lube it slipped and slid easily. He angled his hips so his cock would drag over McKnight’s asshole.
“Gonna come on your ass,” he grunted.
“Fuck, yes!” McKnight yelled, so Grimes did. He shuddered and spurted and McKnight’s hands scrabbled at his hips. He could barely stay on top of McKnight. He couldn’t stay on top of McKnight. He had to take care of McKnight. He slid off and McKnight handed him the shredded t-shirt with a shaking hand. Grimes mopped the come off McKnight’s ass before rolling him on his back.
Oh, yes – beefy and thick and made for Grimes. He lunged down and put his lips around McKnight’s cock. After all, they were already the right color. No time for resting, though. He sucked and worked his lips down to the base of the shaft and felt McKnight’s hands tighten in his hair and McKnight’s belly tense under his cheek.
“Fuck, yes, good boy,” McKnight was growling. “Fucking good boy, that’s it. Swallow my fat cock.” Grimes had to relax his throat. “So pretty.” That had already been ascertained. “John, John…” and then the words ended, although the noises kept up for a little while until McKnight came with more wordless cries.
Grimes swallowed. This wasn’t a time for playing games. He licked his lips, all traces of lipstick taste gone. McKnight wouldn’t be able to tell if where the color came from, but Grimes knew he would like it, so he put his head on the pillow next to McKnight head where he could be seen.
McKnight’s eyes opened the instant Grimes’ face came within view. He reached up and touched Grimes’ cheek. Still wordless. But Grimes knew what he meant.
They stared at each other for a long time.
Next: 46 The 'stache
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