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Title: The 'stache
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's been gone for a long time. He deserves a treat.
Dedication: For woosgirl
The 'stache
"Don't move."
Grimes lay perfectly still while the razor navigated the tricky contours of his chin. It felt good to be relieved of four months of growth. It felt even better to have McKnight back home after so long.
McKnight had been stunned by Grimes’ appearance the afternoon before when he’d arrived, exhausted from the rigors of the sixteen week tour and the forty-two hour trip home. He’d just stood there in the hall, stroking Grimes’ beard for what felt like hours, but was probably minutes.
“Did you let it grow the whole time?” he’d asked quietly.
Grimes had nodded. He knew how much McKnight loved that visible sign of his absence. He’d trimmed the mustache. It got a bit irritating when it grew over his lip. But the beard he’d let grow.
McKnight kept stroking the gold and red streaks in it. “It’s beautiful.”
“And you want to feel it on your thighs.”
“I want to feel it everywhere.”
And so he had. Grimes had spent hours going over McKnight from head to toe with his lips and tongue and beard. It was indescribably good whenever McKnight came home. The best part for Grimes was McKnight’s exhaustion; it rendered him remarkably passive. He let Grimes do things that ordinarily seemed too… well… forward.
McKnight had always loved Grimes’ mouth on his cock, and on his balls, and his thighs. He loved kissing Grimes and Grimes kissing him, and if they were in the midst of a massage he thoroughly enjoyed mouth joining hands on his back and shoulders. But there were things he didn’t always allow. Like rimming. He really liked it, but he rarely initiated it, so it wasn’t all that common an occurrence. Grimes knew that was because of the fucking.
McKnight did not particularly like penetration. It didn’t hurt him, and it made him come when it was combined with everything else that happened on the rare occasions that Grimes fucked him, but he didn’t like the penetration part of it.
“It’s okay, sir,” Grimes had reassured him after that first fuck, when McKnight had been so reluctant to talk about it. “Everyone is different.”
No big deal. Getting fucked simply didn’t do much for him.
Getting rimmed, though – rimming did a hell of a lot for him.
Grimes had wondered at first if it was a psychological thing. McKnight was such a dominant. He wouldn’t enjoy being vulnerable, giving anything up, being on the bottom. But he got extra excited when Grimes did take control. So Grimes figured it was the physical aspect of it. The nerve endings were all around the opening, so that’s what felt best. McKnight certainly enjoyed being touched and licked on the outside. He even liked a finger, not too deep, probing him a little. But full-on fucking didn’t enhance those sensations for him the way it did for Grimes. It’s like how some guys love nipple play, and other it does nothing for them – it’s a matter of individual physiology.
McKnight simply did not get off on being full.
Grimes did. He craved it. He loved the feel of being stretched and opened, of being invaded, filled, taken. Nothing could compare to the perfection of McKnight’s fat cock buried in his ass - a fact for which he knew McKnight was supremely grateful, because McKnight loved to fuck.
All the more proof that they were perfect together, Grimes figured.
For his part, Grimes really liked it when he fucked McKnight, but he didn’t miss it if months went by without it.
Months had gone by, though, and Grimes had not been so much as touched in all those months, so after what he considered to be an adequate amount of beard stroking, he’d led McKnight to the kitchen for a good dinner, and then to the shower, long and hot and involving lots of slippery touches and fingers sliding inside Grimes, and then they’d gone upstairs still a bit damp and McKnight had done what he did best, with Grimes on his knees and elbows and McKnight’s hands caressing his ass between bursts of energetic, frenetic fucking perfect fucking.
Then it had been Grimes’ turn. Libido calmed by his explosive orgasm, and McKnight limp from the same, he’d begun his explorations, and McKnight had let him do stuff that he normally shied away from.
First, he’d let Grimes give him a bit of a sponge bath. Grimes wanted to taste McKnight, not himself. Then he’d merely whimpered a bit while Grimes licked him everywhere and anywhere. He’d groaned slightly when Grimes nuzzled under his arm, got right into his armpit and tugged hairs with his teeth and sucked on the sensitive skin. He hadn’t resisted at all when Grimes took a break and rested for a good half hour with his nose buried between the taut, pale skin of his groin and the loose, wrinkled skin of his balls. And after Grimes prodded him on his side with one leg pushed forward, he didn’t protest at all when Grimes started the slowest most luxurious rim job he’d ever given.
By the time Grimes had got to a finger tip inside while his tongue and other fingers were circling and stroking, McKnight was panting and actually begging.
“Fuck, please, aw, fuck, John. I can’t… I can’t…” Couldn’t take any more. But he could and did because he was putty in Grimes’ hands. And Grimes’ mouth.
Yes, Grimes liked it when McKnight was exhausted.
He’d taken pity on his poor colonel, so desperate and stimulated to a state of one hundred percent want. He’d scooted around the other side and with McKnight’s leg resting on his shoulder, keeping him open, he’d held that huge, hard cock gently in his mouth while he kept up the stroking and gentle little forays into McKnight’s asshole.
That had lasted four, maybe five minutes, before McKnight got his second wind and Grimes found himself flat on his back with his hands held up over his head and McKnight fucking his mouth.
McKnight swished the razor in the bath water to clean it. “If you don’t stay still… I can’t shave you properly with all that squirming.”
Had Grimes been squirming?
McKnight placed the razor on the edge of the bathtub and plunged his hand under the water. His rolled-up sleeve got wet as he grabbed onto Grimes’ cock.
“You always get horny when I shave you,” McKnight said.
“You always fuck me after you shave me,” Grimes pointed out.
McKnight let go of his cock. “So stop squirming so I can finish faster.”
Good idea. Grimes forced himself to not thing about McKnight’s cock in his mouth or ass or anywhere else. He concentrated on the steady hands that were shaving away the last bit of his beard, stroking his bare cheek, smoothing on some cream with aloe to soothe the irritated skin.
“Uh, sir, you missed something.”
McKnight used his thumb to tilt Grimes’ chin up. “Nope. It’s perfect.” He leaned down and kissed Grimes’ hairless jaw.
“Sir. My upper lip.”
“What about it?”
“You didn’t shave it.”
“No shit.”
Grimes scrunched up his lips and could feel the bristly mustache there.
“I’m done, soldier. Now get the fuck out of that bathtub. I seem to recall something about fucking you after I shave you.”
Grimes rose obediently. The water dripped off him, detouring around his cock because it was pretty much sticking straight out. McKnight grabbed it and pulled. Grimes obeyed again, stepped out of the tub and was led by his penis to stand before the mirror.
“See?” said McKnight, evidently pleased with his handiwork.
Grimes looked in the mirror.
Good God. His hair, which he’d had trimmed quite short for the beginning of the summer, was sticking up at odd angles, but that was no big deal. McKnight liked it when his hair was messy and he looked like he’d just been fucked.
The mustache, thought. The mustache was a bigger deal.
“I should be wearing polyester and hanging out at the local disco,” he said.
McKnight leered.
“Sir, you can’t be serious about this. Take it off.”
McKnight started to unbuttoning his shirt.
“Sir, no, really. I look like a porn star from the seventies.”
McKnight dropped his pants.
“Sir.”
“John, it’s just for a little while.”
Later, when Grimes was kneeling perfectly still and McKnight was rubbing the moist head of his cock over smooth skin and then scraping it under the prickly hairs and leaking against Grimes’ lips, Grimes was beginning to see the attraction of the pornstache.
But later still, when McKnight spread his legs and ordered Grimes to kneel between them and “jerk off like a porn star,” Grimes wasn’t sure if he was being teased.
But then as he was licking up the side of McKnight’s cock, the taste of his own come making him feel ridiculously dirty and beautiful, and McKnight was raking his fingers through his hair and saying those things, he understood completely.
“Good boy. Such a good mouth. That’s it. Lick up your mess and make a new one. I’m gonna come all over your lips and your face. I’m gonna come on that mustache. Fuck, yeah, that mustache is gonna make me come.”
And it did.
Next: 47 Jerking Off
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