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Title: 16 - Intimate
Rating: NC-17
Warning: This is a kissing fic. And more.
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.
Intimate
“I want you to kiss me.”
Grimes blinked.
Everything had been going so well. The physiotherapy with Grimes’ cock, grabbing the bars of the headboard, the kneeling at dinner, the cock sucking before McKnight pissed, the pissing, the fucking with the shampoo bottle… oh, the fucking with the bottle… and then the fucking. So perfect.
Not absolutely perfect. McKnight licking the come from his belly had been unnerving, but it was what McKnight wanted to do, and McKnight could do whatever he wanted to do, so Grimes would adapt.
Licking up the come in the bath tub - the texture of the smooth enamel and the cooling slime on his tongue, the taste of himself bursting throughout his mouth, kneeling down, so exposed and so damn… open. The water. Grimes had hoped, of course, kneeling in the tub with the tap pointing at his ass, but he wasn’t sure McKnight would do it. He’d wanted to feel the spray on his ass, on his asshole, but McKnight washing him had been too spine-tingling to predict.
And then being allowed to wash McKnight like that. The silken skin of McKnight’s cock under the slippery soap, the weight of McKnight’s balls in his hands, and the warm water spraying out from his mouth. Grimes sighed.
All good things come to an end.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like McKnight kissing him. He loved McKnight kissing him. He just didn’t want to do the kissing. It was the one thing he didn’t want to do.
“Sir, you don’t need to ask if you want to kiss me,” Grimes said carefully, hoping to lead McKnight away from this danger zone.
McKnight’s eyes bored into Grimes so hard, Grimes was forced to look down.
Big mistake. McKnight’s cock was between them, huge and hard. Grimes could slither down the bed and take it in his mouth. He could wriggle up the bed, raise his top leg and trap the cock between his thighs. (He couldn’t have McKnight fuck between them – he was way too clean and just damp enough that McKnight’s cock wouldn’t slide, it would catch painfully on leg hair or be bent from jabbing headfirst into thigh, but he could put it there.) Or Grimes could simply reach down and take it in his hand.
But McKnight wanted to be kissed.
Why? What was so great about being kissed that people wanted it all the time? As much as he loved it when McKnight kissed him, he could survive without it. People always put too much value on the kissing. It was absurd.
It was intimate. The most intimate thing they could do, perhaps. More intimate than fucking. More intimate than a hand job. More intimate than a blow job? Yes.
It wasn’t as if Grimes was afraid of intimacy. He’d done some pretty intimate things with McKnight, starting from that first night, from the moment McKnight pushed him down and he’d acquiesced so easily, admitting who and what he was. That was intimate. And the first time they fucked, when he took off all his clothes and McKnight walked around him like a large cat on the prowl. That had been intimate. And the times he’d said McKnight’s name while they fucked. Intimate.
Lying in bed facing each other naked was intimate, too.
He looked back up at his commanding officer.
“Did you not understand what I said?” McKnight asked.
McKnight looked nervous. Grimes hated that. He hated making his commanding officer feel insecure more than anything. Fuck.
“Sir, I understood. It’s just that I prefer to have you kiss me.” He added another ‘sir’ for good measure.
“That’s not what I want.”
This was serious. McKnight didn’t really assert himself like this, hadn’t insisted on having anything his way, not since the time he’d told Grimes to take all his clothes off. He’d always been as concerned, if not more concerned, with what Grimes wanted. And Grimes appreciated that so much, it made him want to serve even more and even more efficiently. All in all, it was a good system.
McKnight was a genius at reading Grimes’ mind. He always knew the right thing to say, to ask, to command. Always. Which made this all the more baffling.
Grimes let his hand slip down. It brushed over McKnight’s hip en route to his cock, but was caught up, moved to rest on his own flank.
“Grimes, what is the problem?”
The problem was simple; Grimes was a terrible kisser. That’s what his wife had told him. Accused him of, really. She’d yelled it in the middle of a raging argument, but that didn’t diminish the effect of the statement. The argument had gone on until Grimes had finally yelled back at her that he’d only married her because she was pregnant, or rather she’d said she was pregnant, and since that had been a lie from the start it was no wonder he didn’t kiss her very well, because he had no desire to kiss her at all.
But this was not the time to tell McKnight about something like that. Not in that much detail. McKnight didn’t even know Grimes had been married. He didn’t even know Grimes had ever been with a woman. Grimes had no idea how McKnight would react, but he knew this was the wrong time to find out.
“I’m not sure if I could do it well,” Grimes said.
McKnight put his hand on Grimes’ shoulder. “What?”
Grimes remembered the sting of a palm on his cheek when he’d done it wrong, kissed the wrong way. The embarrassment of it, and the pain. He’d wilted from the pain. Not that the gentleman in question had cared, since he’d only cared about himself. And Grimes had never seen the man again, so it had remained a bad memory but had not been worth remembering, until Grimes remembered it now.
“I wouldn’t want to displease you,” Grimes added, feeling the humiliation all over again, and not the good kind of humiliation that made his cock throb and his head go woozy, but the kind that made him want to sink into the floor.
“Displease…” McKnight kept staring at Grimes, trying to see inside him through his eyes.
Grimes had to look away again.
“How could you ever displease me?” McKnight was stoking his arm now, fingers following the contours.
The size of McKnight’s hand made Grimes feel small. He became intensely aware of his slenderness, his lack of bulk. McKnight’s fingertips trailing over Grimes’ tricep, made Grimes wish he had worked out with heavier weights back when he’d had access to the gym on base.
McKnight took up so much more space on the bed than Grimes did. He was bigger and stronger and of a higher rank and the commanding officer, for fuck’s sake, and Grimes had no business kissing him. None at all.
Except he’d been commanded to do so.
McKnight had his eyes scrunched up in concentration as he studied Grimes’ torso. His hand followed Grimes’ arm up to the shoulder and then swept down the center of Grimes’ chest. He shuffled back on the bed so he could touch Grimes more freely. He traced the lines of Grimes’ ribs, still too prominent, and the ridge that led downward, one half of a vee that pointed to Grimes’ cock, which lay limply on his lower thigh.
He could not be blamed for not being hard. He’d already had two serious orgasms that evening, and he had been asked to do something he didn’t want to do. He did not think he should feel guilty for not looking aroused.
But he did feel guilty, even though he was aroused. He was aroused all over, because McKnight was touching him with a aching amount of tenderness and all he could do was lie there and take it, and be on display. McKnight was making little murmurs of approval as he touched Grimes at the waist and on the hip and across his belly and between his thighs. But his cock wasn’t aroused, and that would, eventually, hurt McKnight’s feelings.
“I don’t see how you could displease me,” McKnight whispered, and Grimes suspected that McKnight had never been this intimate before in his life. “I’m not here to judge you…” McKnight paused and frowned. He stopped caressing and put his hand back on Grimes’ upper arm, squeezing it slightly. “Was someone displeased?” he growled.
Grimes swallowed. Now he’d gone and upset McKnight. He couldn’t do anything right.
“Someone was displeased with the way you kiss? Who?”
Shit. Sweat broke out across Grimes’ forehead and neck. “Sir, that was a long time ago.”
“What the fuck did he do to you?” McKnight’s voice was harsh, coming through gritted teeth. His fingers tightened their grip.
“Nothing, sir,” Grimes backpedaled furiously. “Nothing, I wasn’t talking about anything specific, sir. It’s just not something I’ve had a lot of practice at, that’s all.”
McKnight’s eyes glowed.
Shit. McKnight would offer him all the practice he thought he needed. He knew McKnight wouldn’t say something like that out loud, or at least he hoped he wouldn’t, but the offer hung between them like a sword, although McKnight would have seen it differently.
“You can’t kiss wrong,” McKnight stated with great certainty.
But you could.
Grimes liked two kinds of kissing.
He liked the kind of kissing where he was being kissed. Especially by McKnight. He’d never liked being kissed so much. He liked McKnight to have his way with his mouth, to do whatever he felt like doing, whether it was gentle or demanding or ticklish or aggressive or whatever. Tongue searching, lips pressing hard, teeth nibbling, whatever McKnight wanted to do to his tongue and lips and teeth.
And then there was the way Grimes liked to kiss.
He’d never had time for gentle, slow, romantic kissing, the kind you see in movies when people kiss so artistically and gradually, building up to it elegantly. He just kissed.
“Grimes…” McKnight had slid both hands up and was holding Grimes’ face in his hands, fingers burning Grimes’ cheeks.
All Grimes had to do was shift his eyes, look to the side, to avoid that gaze, but McKnight was holding his face and Grimes somehow had to look into his eyes, which were uncharacteristically soft and even a bit moist.
“I want… I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do, but I need…”
He needed.
“John, kiss me.”
John.
So Grimes did.
Because he couldn’t disobey a direct order. And he didn’t want to disappoint McKnight. And because it was time.
Hard. He kissed hard; it was the only way he liked to kiss. He moved fast toward McKnight, pressed their lips together without any of those teasing licks people seemed to like so much, without nuzzling or brushing or nibbling, without preamble. He forced McKnight’s mouth open and plunged his tongue inside, and once he started he couldn’t stop.
He’d always wanted to do this. He’d wanted to run his tongue across the roof of McKnight’s mouth and behind his teeth. He’d wanted to probe under McKnight’s tongue and taste him everywhere. McKnight had a gold tooth at the back, one you could see when he opened his mouth wide enough and his head was tilted at just the right angle. Grimes had always wanted to feel the smooth surface of it, different from the smooth surface of the rest of his teeth. It wasn’t a whole tooth, Grimes discovered. The clean, sharp edge of the crown jolted his tongue with electricity.
Grimes kept his eyes shut tight. If he had to kiss, he was going to do it the way he liked to kiss all the way. He did not want to see McKnight freaking out on him.
He pressed a bit harder and McKnight’s mouth opened more, and then McKnight was rolling onto his back with his hands sliding down to Grimes’ waist, pulling Grimes on top of him, and he was flailing a bit.
Not as drastically as Grimes sometimes flailed when he had to stretch to accommodate McKnight’s cock, which was stabbing Grimes in the stomach, something Grimes was actually enjoying very much, but he was definitely flailing, legs scrambling for purchase, hands securely on Grimes’ slender hips now but elbows not tucked in at all.
McKnight pulled Grimes’ even closer than gravity would normally pull him. He tilted his hips up and their cocks rubbed against each other. McKnight was taller, so their cocks didn’t line up perfectly, but it was close enough to make Grimes dizzy. He swirled his tongue in McKnight’s mouth and swallowed McKnight’s moan.
Grimes pulled away. He needed air. McKnight lifted his head, following Grimes’ mouth as he pulled back and rotating his hips slightly at the same time. Grimes ground his hips experimentally and McKnight sucked harder, grabbed Grimes’ ass with both hands, bucked up and ran his teeth along the length of Grimes’ tongue.
Oh, fuck. McKnight had held back at first, was a bit passive, even, but now he was kissing Grimes with the same force Grimes was kissing him, and the combined effort was dazzling.
McKnight started to move Grimes’ ass, pulling him up, pushing him down, rubbing their cocks together. Grimes let his lower body go passive and simply enjoyed the sensations. But he used his arms to hold himself up, and his hands to grip McKnight’s shoulders, and kept kissing hard, fucking McKnight’s mouth with his tongue.
McKnight sucked.
Oh, fuck, McKnight had Grimes’ tongue between his lips and he was sucking, applying suction, fucking sucking it, and Grimes’ cock felt it.
Grimes squirmed uncontrollably and McKnight winced because his wrist had been twisted by the sudden movement.
Grimes leapt off McKnight and crouched on the bed beside him, cradling the wrist in his hands. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m so sorry,” he sputtered.
McKnight pulled his wrist away impatiently. “Fuck sorry. I want you to kiss me again.”
Grimes looked up.
McKnight wasn’t upset with him.
“Sir?”
McKnight hadn’t been offended by Grimes kissing him like that at all.
“I don’t know how you could have thought that would displease me.”
He looked… blissed out.
“Well, sir, it’s not my place to kiss a superior officer like that.”
McKnight laughed. He laughed so much his gold tooth glinted at Grimes.
Grimes pouted. He didn’t see what was so funny.
McKnight sat up so he was kneeling opposite Grimes. The position made Grimes feel a bit silly. It looked like they were a couple of kids at a slumber party. McKnight put his hands on Grimes’ knees.
“Your place, Grimes? Your place is to do what I like, isn’t it?”
Grimes nodded.
“If it’s what you like.”
Grimes nodded again.
“I thought you didn’t want to kiss me.”
Grimes shook his head. Not quite.
“I thought maybe, you didn’t want me to think… you didn’t like… didn’t…” McKnight squeezed his fingers on Grimes’ knees as if it would help him find the right words. “Me.”
Him. Didn’t like him? Oh, fuck, they had to talk more.
But first they had to kiss more. Grimes leaned forward and McKnight met him halfway. They attacked each other’s mouths hungrily until they couldn’t breathe and needed air.
Now they could talk.
“I like it when you do it to me, when you decide you want to kiss me,” Grimes admitted. “And I like it when you kiss me gently.” It was harder to say it out loud than he thought it would be. More awkward. “I like it when you…” Come on, Grimes thought, you can say it. He’s fucked your ass every which way, surely you can discuss kissing without being mortified. “I like it when you kiss me rough, too.”
The fingers on Grimes’ knees stiffened.
“I really never learned how to do it gently…”
Nails scraped Grimes.
“I just like to kiss that way. Some people don’t like it, so I stopped doing it.”
The fingers froze.
“Someone got upset with you for it?”
Grimes gave a small nod.
Fingers tightened more.
McKnight took a deep, loud breath. His eyes closed. His muscles were tensed, but with five more deliberate, slow, calming breaths they relaxed. Eyes opened. “Nothing I can do about it. In the past, right?”
Grimes gave another, more definite nod.
“Much as I’d like to kill anyone who’s ever made you feel bad about yourself.”
“Sir!” It wasn’t like McKnight to express a casual desire for violence.
“Sorry,” McKnight breathed out. “I promise I won’t go hunting him down.”
McKnight had assumed it was a man. Well, it was, partially. It was a combination of events, not a single event, that had caused the trauma. The totally unnecessary trauma, as it turned out, since McKnight appeared to like that kind of kissing.
“So,” Grimes mumbled, “it’s okay?”
McKnight looked up sharply. “The kissing? Fuck, yeah, better than okay. It’s… fuck, it’s ideal.”
Grimes let out his breath and sagged a bit. It was exhausting, all this intimacy. He wanted to get back to the sex; it was much easier.
“I didn’t mean to push you,” McKnight said. “Well, I did, I guess. But I just wanted… Grimes… John… I don’t even know what to call you.”
They had obviously taken the intimacy too far. McKnight needed a break. Grimes let himself smile openly. “How about ‘good boy’?” he suggested playfully.
It was sudden. That was the only way to describe it. Suddenly.
Suddenly, Grimes found himself flipped over. McKnight had that way of turning his world upside down.
He was on his hands and knees, and McKnight was kneeling between his spread legs and his shoulders were on the mattress and his ass up into the air, and McKnight had his hands planted firmly on Grimes’ ass cheeks. He was being gentle, lightly touching Grimes, moving in slow, lazy circles. Slow compared to the speed with which Grimes had been flipped over.
Everything centered on those hands, warming him with their careful caresses. Grimes turned his head into the pillow to muffle the frankly helpless noises he was making.
Every circle of McKnight’s hands made Grimes feel more helpless. McKnight was making noises of approval. He was murmuring words like ‘beautiful’, and hissing words like ‘yesss’. Admiring. Admiring what?
Grimes had never thought much of his ass. It was not terribly interesting. He had thought about his asshole a lot, of course, preparing it and keeping it fit for action and all that, but not the rest of his ass. Most of his partners had been interested in his holes only, not what was near the holes.
But as McKnight’s movements accelerated, and his murmurs rose, Grimes felt himself grow hot, and he didn’t feel so skinny and insubstantial as before. He seemed to grow, to become almost voluptuous. He arched his back and listened to the answering gasp, and then he swayed his hips from side to side and McKnight’s hands shifted. They were circling in opposite directions now, pushing his cheeks up and then apart, exposing his hole, and then down and together, which made him feel even more exposed than when they were pulled apart. McKnight was breathing hard and almost cooing in appreciation.
Grimes no longer felt like something to be fucked but someone to be appreciated.
He wasn’t surprised when he felt hot breath on his skin. The teeth did surprise him, but they didn’t shock because it wasn’t shocking. It was sensuous. They didn’t sink in, as much as Grimes might have liked them to. They grazed cautiously, careful not to cause pain, on the left side. Grimes could have wondered why on the left but that would have been a waste of time better spent enjoying the feel of McKnight’s lips brushing over the taut skin and sucking lightly. Jesus!
McKnight’s hands were still caressing, and there was a deep rumble coming from his throat. His hands kept moving, squeezing and shifting flesh, pinching lightly, while his lips poured fire over smooth skin, hot breath and moist lips and rough hands and a day’s worth of stubble rasping over Grimes’ pale skin.
Grimes stretched his whole body out luxuriously.
Then the tongue. Wet and wicked across his ass cheek. Grimes moaned. “Oh, sir, no…” He couldn’t take this. He shouldn’t take this. It was the wrong way around.
McKnight’s tongue moved closer and suddenly and flicked out over his opening.
Grimes had never done that to McKnight. He had never had cause to do that, since there was no need to prepare McKnight’s asshole for anything. McKnight’s asshole had stayed well out of the action so far, and Grimes had always assumed it always would. He’d touched McKnight’s ass a few times when he was sucking him, but only to hold him still so Grimes could have a modicum of control over the cock fucking his mouth.
Grimes sobbed into the pillow. “Don’t,” he cried.
But the tongue ignored him and dragged over his hole once more.
At least I’m clean, Grimes thought, no less distraught for the fact.
The tongue jabbed at him mercilessly.
“Aw, sir, please, that’s not right!’ he wailed.
McKnight stopped. There must have been something in Grimes’ voice. Desperation. He stopped and moved forward, kneeling up.
That was better.
“It’s okay. I’ve stopped.”
Grimes shivered.
“Some other time.”
Hell, no. No other time. He’d already got Grimes to kiss him. What more did he want?
“If you want it.”
Did Grimes even have the right to be so picky?
McKnight bent and reached over Grimes for the bottle of lube on the bedside table. His dry cock nestled hotly against Grimes’ opening.
Grimes arched and rubbed against it, trying to be as enticing as possible. And he succeeded, judging by the vehement swearing that McKnight was doing.
Much better.
The lube was cold against his hole.
Much much better.
McKnight’s cock slipped over the lubed puckers and the lube got warmer.
Couldn’t get much better than this.
“Ah ah ah ah ah,” Grimes flailed as he was penetrated.
Perfect!
McKnight held him down, arms wrapped around his stomach, chest pressed against his back, mouth blazing on the back of his neck.
“When I tell you to kiss me, you kiss me,” McKnight growled against his skin. “And if that’s the way you like to kiss, than that’s the way you kiss me,” he added.
“Y-y-yes, sirrrrrrrrrrr,” Grimes moaned, grateful for the clarification. He wouldn't be expected to kiss McKnight out of the blue. He would be told when.
“If I want to suck your tongue, I’m gonna suck your tongue…”
Jesus fuck goddamn.
“And you are never going to be embarrassed about anything.”
Fuck, no. Embarrassed was not the issue. Melted was the issue. Incoherent was the issue.
“And you have the most beautiful ass I have ever seen or felt,” McKnight panted. “I don’t want you to ever let anyone else fuck your ass.”
“No, sir. My ass is yours, sir.”
McKnight thrust hard. “That goes for your mouth, too.”
“God, yes, sir. All of me.”
McKnight grunted and swore.
“And if I want to lick you…”
Grimes howled and writhed.
“Motherfucker!” McKnight roared and reared up, taking Grimes up with him. Grimes arms flew out involuntarily, wheeling in the air.
McKnight’s arms held Grimes close, and one hand shot down to cover Grimes’ cock. “Time for number three,” McKnight rumbled in his ear.
Fuck. When did Grimes get so goddamn hard? He hadn’t even noticed. It was like he hadn’t come at all that night. His shaft was slender and stiff, curving in McKnight’s hand, shivering when McKnight rubbed his thumb over the damp slit.
“That’s a good boy. Nice and hard. You’re going to come for me again, aren’t you?”
Grimes certainly hoped so.
“You’re going to come with my cock shoved up your asshole.”
Fuck, but McKnight could get a nasty mouth on him.
“Come on my hand, and then you can lick it all up.”
Grimes wanted to nod, but the way McKnight clamped his mouth on Grimes’ neck prohibited all movement above the shoulders. He spread his legs, pressing them against McKnight’s thighs and pushing them back so he wasn’t kneeling anymore. He was being held up by McKnight’s cock.
“I can’t come without you,” McKnight moaned into his neck. “Please.”
Oh, FUCK. Grimes jerked against McKnight. His cock jerked in McKnight’s hand. His ass jerked around McKnight’s cock. Everything convulsed at once. Including McKnight.
Everything was black for a second. Grimes couldn’t see anything, or hear anything, or think anything. And then he was lying down on top of McKnight, on his back, with McKnight’s cock still shoved up his ass, and McKnight’s arms around him. Just like the first time they ever fucked.
McKnight let out a low growl. “Good boy.”
Grimes whimpered.
“Good fucking boy.”
Grimes opened his mouth to speak. Nothing came out.
McKnight hummed in his ear.
Grimes sighed. “Sir?”
“Hmmm?”
“I’d like to eat my come now, sir.”
McKnight shuddered under and inside Grimes. He raised a wet hand to Grimes’ mouth.
Grimes licked appreciatively, and it was McKnight’s turn to whimper.
“So fucking good,” McKnight breathed in his ear. “So fucking mine.”
His. For sure. For good.
And Grimes was so glad they’d had their little talk.
Continued in: the Computer Drabble or Music
Back to: Soldier Porn
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