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Title: 6 – Fussing
Author: Haleth
Fandom/Pairing: BHD. McKnight/Grimes
Rating: NC-17
Warning: mild pee!, heavy submission, playing hooky.
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.
Beta: Cayce P.
Dedication: I would like to dedicate this part to salixbabylon, because she’s so darned pervy and I know she’ll like it.
Fussing
McKnight went straight upstairs and sat on the bed, stared down at the ugly carpet. Plain, boring, solid, stolid tan. Is that what his sister thought of him? Is that what people saw? Is that what HE saw? What Grimes saw?
He grinned. Because when he looked at the carpet, he didn’t see the carpet at all. He saw Grimes on his knees, head bowed, arms clasped behind his back, mouth stuffed full of McKnight’s dick.
One more week. One more week and Linda would be back, wanting her house back.
She’d asked him to live there permanently. She asked every time he watched the place for her, but he always refused; she was so fussy about everything.
Everything but the smoking. Thank God for that. Shit, she smoked like a fiend, even more than McKnight did. Made no sense at all, woman that picky and fussy smoking like a chimney.
Come to think of it, though, she was fussy about the smoking. You could smoke in the living room, but not the kitchen. He’d been smoking in the kitchen while she was gone. He made a mental note to stop smoking in the kitchen. He would mention it to Grimes, and Grimes would take extra care cleaning in there so she would never find out. Wash the cabinets and the ceiling.
One week.
It didn’t seem enough.
This was the longest sexual relationship McKnight had had since… since Germany. He’d been stationed there two years. It, the relationship, lasted eleven whole months. Another soldier. Raymond.
Looking back, though, the whole thing had been, somehow, fake. Like a pretend relationship. He’d known that since before they broke up, that it had not been entirely genuine. For the longest time, he thought it was a gender issue. But now he knew that was only a part of it.
The real problem wasn’t about wanting to be with a man. It was that McKnight didn’t feel genuine unless he was commanding.
And McKnight couldn’t properly command a woman. It felt wrong. It wouldn’t satisfy him. It would feel dirty and wrong.
The other problem was that Claudia Raymond was the last woman on earth who would have accepted command. She did like it rough, though, so it wasn’t like the sex was totally fake. It was fun. But it always fell short of command, hence short of genuine.
Grimes was something else. Entirely something else.
McKnight looked down at his boots. His sister would not approve. She was very strict. All footwear had to be removed at the front door. She would never know he’d been wearing his boots all over the house, of course, because Grimes kept the place spotless.
He looked at the clock. Grimes would get here soon. McKnight was a bit nervous. Grimes wasn’t used to McKnight being home when he arrived. It would upset his schedule. He would see McKnight’s car in the driveway and he would think the worst.
McKnight would have to reassure him that it wasn’t so bad.
Grimes had grown very protective. Any bruise or cut was fussed over. He’d started giving McKnight massages. Not kinky-for-sex massages but real massages. They were fucking fantastic, even without fucking. Grimes said he wanted McKnight to be in perfect shape, but McKnight could tell it was because he wanted to touch McKnight more.
McKnight’s cock started to get hard just from thinking about Grimes’ hands on his shoulders and back, sliding from the massage oil he’d bought. Aw, fuck, massage oil.
They’d talked. It wasn’t easy, but a thorough and completely honest discussion during which they’d discovered that, yes, indeed, they had both been extraordinarily careful and responsible throughout their entire lives. Their entire sex lives, that is. It had taken a long time to get it all in the open, and there were still about a million things they had not talked about that they should talk about, but the sexual history thing was taken care of.
And last night they’d fucked without a condom, with McKnight sliding across Grimes’ ass and inside, into crushing, burning, delirious heat. There had never been anything even close to it, for McKnight.
Or Grimes. Grimes had been… McKnight couldn’t think of words to describe it. Grimes on his hands and knees, begging, ‘please, sir,’ and the noises he made when McKnight slid home.
Animal noises.
McKnight moved his hand over to adjust himself. Fuck, he was rock hard. Grimes could not show up too soon.
One week.
Linda would ask him to stay again. She always did. He had thought, while he drove her to the airport weeks before, that he might stay this time. That he would say yes. He was getting too old for life on base. He was looking forward to privacy and quiet and solitude.
But what he’d ended up with was Grimes. Not privacy, but discretion. Not quiet, at least not when Grimes was moaning around a mouthful of cock, but he didn’t talk a lot and he never talked back. Solitude? Hell, he couldn’t remember why he’d ever wanted solitude.
But there was no way he could stay on at his sister’s place now. She would never understand Grimes.
She wouldn’t care that Grimes was a man. She would, however, care about the nature of the relationship. The way they related. The commands. The obedience. The come on the floor. She would NOT understand the come on the floor.
McKnight’s cock. Slick with oil and his own come, and Grimes kneeling on the floor to lick it clean. After it had been in Grimes’ ass.
Nope. Linda would definitely NOT understand.
She was a romantic. That’s why she was off in Florence, studying, touring the countryside, painting old ruins and visiting the studios of the old masters. Or whatever she was doing. She was into true love and poetry and romantic gestures. She quoted Shelly and cried at the end of movies. She painted castles. McKnight looked up at the painting of the castle on the wall.
Linda got all the romance genes. McKnight got the ability to calmly walk through a firefight without flinching. The ability to sustain a gunshot wound to his neck and do his job regardless. The ability to serenely ignore the man who was sucking his cock, to outwardly treat him off-handedly, to act as if the fact that he was serving McKnight with his whole body and soul was not big deal, even when McKnight felt as if his heart was going to explode in his chest.
It was all McKnight could do, sometimes, to not stop Grimes before he was done, to grab him and hold him and tell him what all this meant. Except he didn’t really know what it meant. What he knew was that every time Grimes called him ‘sir’, his cock got that much harder. And every time Grimes knelt beside him, he felt sparks in his head. And every time Grimes made him come, he wanted more.
McKnight was starting to seriously wonder about himself.
He wondered exactly what it was Grimes got out of all this. He got off on the sex, he liked the kinkiness, but McKnight had to wonder why he kept coming back. It wasn’t like McKnight did anything for him. He just sat there with his dick in Grimes’ mouth, or watching Grimes do things, serve him, clean up after him, do the housework, cook the food, clean the floor. With his tongue.
McKnight rubbed at his hard dick.
And wondered if he’d deserved all this. Maybe the reason he liked it this way because it was easy. Because it was best for him. Because he wasn’t a very good lover, so this perversion, this commanding way of doing things, made up for it.
It wasn’t as if he ever did anything to make Grimes feel good. He never licked his cock or played with his balls or sucked him. He never kissed him tenderly and stroked his body gently, making him feel good all over. He kissed him hard and demanding, and took what he wanted and patted him on the head. And McKnight only kissed him after they were done, after his mouth had been filled with McKnight’s come and his own come. Unless they fucked. He never kissed him after they fucked. He usually kissed him before they fucked.
So it was like the kisses were either reward for doing dirty work, or inducement to let McKnight fuck him.
He should kiss Grimes. Just to kiss him.
But maybe he wasn’t good at kissing. Maybe he wasn’t good at anything except commanding.
He was good at getting his dick hard. He rubbed it some more. It felt good. He hadn’t touched his own cock, except to piss, in five weeks. Grimes had been completely taking care of him. No need to jerk off. A few times he’d touched himself while Grimes was there, but that wasn’t jerking off. It didn’t count as jerking off if there was someone else there, kneeling on the floor with his mouth open, waiting. Waiting.
He squeezed the thick ridge of his cock and thought about sucking Grimes’ cock. What would that be like? Taking that beautiful, slender, curved cock in his mouth, licking around the head - the head had a perfect curve to it. Every time he got his hands on Grimes’ cock, usually when they were fucking or getting ready to fuck, he made a point of running his thumb over that perfect curve, the smooth smooth skin.
McKnight liked cut cock. And Grimes certainly didn’t mind McKnight’s uncut cock. He did this thing with his lips tugging on the foreskin, ah, fuck. It was mind-blowing. And when he hollowed his cheeks, sucked hard, McKnight often had to clench his hands on the arms of his chair to keep from doing something Grimes wouldn’t like.
All these restrictions on his behavior, just because of what Grimes would like or wouldn’t like. Maybe he was giving just as much as he was taking. Maybe it wasn’t so uneven after all. Maybe they were both doing what they wanted, and maybe it wasn’t just a coincidence that each of them happened to like what the other person did, or didn’t, or whatever you call that kind of thing.
Reciprocity.
It was a reciprocal thing. They had a reciprocal thing.
And right now, McKnight was in the mood from some serious reciprocation.
This waiting was hell. But good. Because the timing was very important. And the more time between when he got home and when Grimes got home, the better. Nobody’d believed he should drive. Struecker insisted on driving McKnight’s car home, with Maddox following in a jeep. It was fucking ridiculous – he’d driven with injuries way worse than this. Maybe not in peacetime, on roads where people generally obeyed traffic laws, but still. He let them drive him home and then they’d wanted to come in and make sure he was okay, which was really fucking ridiculous because he’d been okay with way worse injuries, and the way the two of them were hanging around really got on his nerves.
What if they were still hanging around when Grimes got there? He shooed them away, said he was fine, practically pushed Maddox into the driver’s seat. Told Struecker to fuck off, in a friendly way. They left. Finally.
Maddox kept looking at him in a way McKnight found very unnerving. Maybe Maddox had a few Grimes-like tendencies. McKnight hadn’t ever considered that. Didn’t want to. He had Grimes; what the hell would he want with Maddox?
The front door slammed open. Grimes called for him. He’d seen the car. He sounded panicked.
“Sir?”
“Upstairs.”
Grimes was in the doorway so fast, he must have taken the stairs three at a time.
“Sir!”
Grimes sped across the floor to McKnight’s side. Knelt on the floor. Hands hovered deliberately over the white cotton, not touching but itching to touch, protecting and fuck, but didn’t Grimes have nice hands? All that housework and his hands were still smooth. Must be from the massage oil.
“Sir? What happened?”
He looked so worried. McKnight had to clear his throat. “It’s okay. There was an accident. It’s a hairline fracture. Nothing bad. My wrist. Gotta wear a cast for a few weeks. Month, or so, maybe.”
“Oh, sir...” Grimes started to fuss.
McKnight knew he would fuss. Funnily enough, I didn’t bother him.
“Can I get you anything? Are you in pain? What did the doctor say?”
Maybe it did bug him a little. McKnight clamped his good hand over Grimes’ mouth.
Jesus! That felt good.
“The doctor told me to take a few days off. There’s painkillers in my breast pocket. I took one when I got home. I’m not supposed to drink.” That about covered it.
No, it didn’t.
“Doctor didn’t say anything about not fucking.”
A wet tongue dragged across McKnight’s palm.
“You think it might make me feel better?” McKnight leered a bit.
The tongue flicked enticingly.
“I’m going to take my hand away, and you’re not going to say anything about taking it easy or restricting my activities in any way.”
Grimes nodded solemnly while wriggling his tongue in the gap between two fingers.
“Good boy.”
McKnight pulled his hand away. Grimes licked his lips. Then he bit his lower lip. His brow furrowed.
“You wanna take care of me, don’t you?”
“I always take care of you, sir.” He sounded a bit affronted.
“I know.”
Grimes lowered his head to McKnight’s lap. “Will you tell me how it happened?”
“Ju-jitsu. I got this guy in an arm bar hold.”
“This guy?”
“New guy. A new Ranger. Young. Cocky. Took offence to me getting him in the hold. So, on the next round he put me in a reverse wrist lock. Cracked it…”
“And?”
McKnight wriggled the fingers, still a bit swollen and tender, of his good hand. “I think I broke his nose.”
Grimes nudged McKnight’s crotch with his chin. “Hasn’t affected this part of you.”
McKnight struggled to stand. “No kidding. Are you going to do something about that or not, soldier?”
Grimes had McKnight’s button and fly open in about two seconds. He gently guided McKnight back down onto the bed, which was a good thing since McKnight had stood up too fast. Either that or the painkillers just kicked in.
McKnight sat on the bed and let Grimes pull his pants down. Then the unthinkable happened. Grimes ignored his cock, and started working on the laces of his boots.
“For fuck’s sake, why aren’t you sucking me?”
Grimes smiled as he pulled the first boot off. “You’re going to want to sleep the second after you come.” A little too cocky.
McKnight stared down at Grimes.
“Sir,” Grimes added hastily, wiping the smile off his face instantly.
Then he sucked the cock into his mouth.
Much better.
So very much better. McKnight flopped back on the bed, winced as his wrist bounced off his chest. Fucking sling – how the hell was he going to get his shirt off? He lifted his hips up off the bed and fucked Grimes’s mouth. Better than fucking painkillers any day. He was doing the lip/foreskin thing, sliding back and forth, setting his dick on fire. God, yeah, deeper!
The strain of not being able to move his left arm was maddening for McKnight. He reached down and ran his hand over Grimes’ scalp. Gently. He caressed the soft hair and the warm skin under it and then he slid his hand down to feel the bulge of his own cock through the skin of Grimes’ cheek. And then he traced his finger around Grime’s wide-open upper lip, or at least the part that he could reach, since the best, softest part was curled up under Grimes’ front teeth to keep them from scraping McKnight’s cock.
Grimes made a desperate whining noise. McKnight answered with an ominous groan.
McKnight came violently.
Grimes didn’t spill a drop.
McKnight fell asleep immediately. It must have been Grimes who rotated him the right way around and pulled the covers over him.
It was dark. There were flashes or streaks of orange light in the distance, but he couldn’t see two feet ahead in the darkness, and certainly not past the hood of the Humvee. The road was shit, craters in it as deep as the tires, and bumps. Were they bumps or were they bodies? McKnight hated driving blind. He was trying to navigate street he couldn’t see, from an map that had nothing to do with what was on the ground, communications were down, there was screaming in the distance and someone was thrashing in the back of the vehicle. Injured? Scared? He had to get those men out of there.
The Humvee hit something too big for even a Humvee to roll over. The crunch of the front quarter panel was deafening. He was tumbling, turning sideways, his hand wrenched painfully from the steering wheel, the darkness pierced by a blinding white light.
“Sir! It’s okay!”
Grimes sitting beside him on the bed. McKnight tried to sit up, but he was dizzy. Grimes held him down gently.
“Shh, sir, it’s okay. You’re home. You’re safe.”
McKnight was naked from the waist down, the top few buttons of his shirt loosened. The sling dug into the back of his neck, irritating his scar.
Grimes was wearing his jeans and t-shirt but no shoes. McKnight reached out with his good hand. The bed next to him was warm. Grimes must have been lying next to him. Fuck. He’d slept through it.
Grimes wiped at his forehead with a damp cloth. “You have a bit of a fever, I think. Do you want me to call the doctor?”
“NO!” Fuck, how would he explain that? Grimes calling his doctor in the middle of the… what the fuck time was it, anyway?
“It’s almost midnight,” Grimes said, reading his mind. “You were sleeping peacefully until a few minutes ago. Some kind of nightmare. Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you something to eat?”
Food. Naw, that wouldn’t sit well. He wanted a beer, but he knew Grimes would refuse him that. Shit, he shouldn’t have told him about the ‘no drinking’ thing. But Grimes would have read the label on the painkiller and figured it out for himself. He was smart that way.
“Gotta piss,” McKnight grumbled. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and listed to one side.
“Okay, okay. Just hang on a sec. Get used to sitting up, okay? Then we’ll get you to stand…”
Grimes started undoing buttons and carefully extricating McKnight from his shirt.
“What the fuck are you doing?” McKnight knew he was being a belligerent prick, but he couldn’t help it. He felt like shit.
“Taking advantage of you,” Grimes smirked. He stopped smirking. “I mean… taking advantage of you sitting up, so I can take your shirt off, sir.”
McKnight nodded. Smart. “Smart,” he said. “Smart boy.”
Grimes beamed. He pulled the right sleeve down.
McKnight shrugged out of his sleeve and let Grimes pull the other side off. They’d cut sleeve on the injured side off at the elbow. He’d have to cut the other sleeve so he could use it as a work shirt for around the house. Except he only had a house for another week.
He was naked now, except for the sling. He probably looked stupid, but his arm fucking hurt, and if he tried to hold up the cast without any help it would hurt even more, so he let himself look stupid. Not as if Grimes had never done anything to make himself look stupid.
Grimes was kneeling beside him now, looking down at the floor, trying not to look at McKnight’s cock.
McKnight moved to stand, and Grimes leapt up and supported him. Which was good, because McKnight was still sort of dizzy. They made it to the bathroom and stood together just inside the door.
“May I…?” Grimes close to whispered.
McKnight nodded and leaned against the wall. Grimes held his cock with great care and aimed for him. Oh, fuck, it felt good to piss and even better to piss with Grimes’ hand on his dick. Grimes couldn’t help flexing his fingers a bit, and one finger slipped out to catch a bit of the piss on it. When McKnight was finished, Grimes kept holding him. He was holding his breath, too.
“May I…?”
“Fuck, yes!”
Grimes dropped to his knees and licked the end of McKnight’s cock. Fuck, his tongue snaking out and catching a drop of piss on it, that was just the sexiest thing imaginable. Grimes licked all over the head, under the foreskin, around the shaft. Did it again, changing his technique to suit the rapidly growing cock. Grimes whined a bit as he licked.
McKnight pulled back. “You piss,” he said. He wanted to watch Grimes.
“I think I’m too hard,” Grimes whispered.
Correction - that was the sexiest thing imaginable.
“No, you’re not. Do it, soldier.”
The way Grimes’ hands shook was bad enough. But fuck if he wasn’t almost too hard to piss. Not quite. He took deep, gulping breaths and tried to steady himself. It was fascinating to watch. He unzipped and pulled out and started to piss and his hand kept shaking but he got it all in the john. He was red in the face from either the effort of it all or the embarrassment of having to do this in front of his commanding officer. Didn’t matter. Either way, it meant that as soon as he stopped pissing he was even harder and ready to do whatever else McKnight told him to do.
McKnight couldn’t think. He wanted Grimes on his knees again, but he knew he couldn’t keep standing much longer. He wanted to touch Grimes all over, but he only had one hand and that was currently gripping the towel rail to keep himself from falling over.
“Back to bed, sir.” Grimes hooked an arm around McKnight’s waist and nudged him gently toward the door.
McKnight couldn’t figure out how Grimes was managing to walk with his dick that hard. It was pointing straight up, flat against his stomach, and leaking. McKnight wanted to taste it. He said so, and Grimes stumbled but recovered nicely.
“That’s just the painkillers talking, sir. Or lack of painkillers. You should have had another over an hour ago. That’s why you’re so shaky. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, sir. I’d be shaky, too. Here, let me get you some water.”
McKnight sat on the edge of the bed and watched Grimes’ ass as he walked to the bathroom, and his cock as he walked back. Fuck it, it looked good. He knew it tasted good, because he’d kissed Grimes right after Grimes licked up his own come. He wanted it.
Grimes shrieked as McKnight grabbed his hip and pulled him forward and put his lips over the head of Grimes’ cock. Tongue swirled. Lips slid. Heart pounded.
“Fuck, you taste good,” McKnight muttered.
Grimes stepped back and grabbed the pills from the bedside table. “You should take this, sir. I think you might be delirious.”
McKnight found that hilarious, and had trouble swallowing the pills and water while laughing. He tilted back on the bed, head propped up on a pillow. He reached down and stroked his cock. He could see Grimes fighting with himself to not grab McKnight’s hand, yell at him to stop, that was Grimes’ job.
Instead, Grimes pulled his t-shirt over his head.
McKnight stopped touching his own cock.
Grimes pulled his jeans off and got on the bed, straddling McKnight’s thighs. McKnight was shocked. Grimes had never undressed without McKnight telling him too. He’d never climbed on top of McKnight, taken the initiative like that. He’d never let McKnight look at him for so long without looking away. But Grimes looked McKnight in the eye.
He leaned forward and opened the drawer, pulled out the bottle of massage oil, slicked his fingers, reached down. Stopped. Remembered McKnight asking him how he’d done it, reached around back, between his legs, to just behind his balls.
McKnight groaned. Fuck, yes, do it. He hadn’t yet got around to telling Grimes to do this. It was incredible that he was doing it exactly the way McKnight wanted him to. Hips pushed forward, cock sticking out, fingers inside. McKnight could hear them, wet and pressing inside Grimes. He couldn’t see them clearly, but he knew what they were doing from the way Grimes’ eyes squeezed shut.
Then the fingers were around McKnight’s cock and Grimes was shuffling forward and the heat of Grimes around him slammed McKnight into the mattress. It was so much it was too much but not enough and McKnight needed needed needed.
“Say my name.”
Grimes didn’t falter, didn’t break his rhythm as he rode McKnight’s cock, up and down, but the confusion was obvious in his voice. “Sir?”
McKnight gripped one hip with his one hand and dug his fingers in. “Say it.”
“McKnight?” Grimes said hestitantly.
McKnight dug his fingers deeper.
Grimes took a deep breath. Gasp, really.
McKnight barely heard it.
“Danny…”
Motherfucker.
There was that fucking white light again.
McKnight woke to the sound of Grimes’ voice, hushed, coming from downstairs.
“Look, I told you it couldn’t be helped. I was fucking sick all over the place. Trust me, if I’d made it to work last night you would be way more pissed off. The place would reek, you’d have to throw out the chair and the keyboard, not to mention that head set you’re so fond of… yeah, I’m okay now. I’ll be fine by tonight. Twenty-four hour thing… honestly, I’m okay. I’ll be there at midnight.”
Fuck. Grimes didn’t have last night off. McKnight had known that, but he hadn’t bothered to think about it. Grimes was lying for him.
Grimes appeared in the doorway with a tray. A fucking tray. McKnight hadn’t even known there was a tray in the house, but Grimes had found it, and put toast and coffee and scrambled eggs and bacon on it. McKnight ate slowly, waiting for Grimes to say something about the night before. But Grimes was cleaning the bathroom and tidying the room, even though there was nothing to tidy.
McKnight pushed the tray away. “You didn’t go to work last night.”
Grimes was half-turned away, but McKnight could see the smile anyway.
“I had something more important to do, sir.”
Motherfucker, McKnight thought. He’s a coy bastard, sometimes. “Fuck me,” he muttered.
The smile brightened. “Is that an order, sir?”
Continued in McKnight’s Sister
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