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Title: A Fucking Order
Author: heartofslash
Fandom: BHD, Army of Two/the Long Haul
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Sub/Dom. Application of make-up with intent to seduce. Faulty attempts at role reversal. The expected happy ending.
Disclaimer: Has moved so far from the movie it's barely fanfic anymore, but I don't own the names. Nothin'. Rats.
A Fucking Order
Grimes stared into his own gray-blue eyes in the mirror. They were gray-blue because of the soft black of their surroundings. He'd read an article that claimed it was impossible for eyes to change color, even in response to the ambient color scheme, but he knew his did, because McKnight told him so. McKnight would never lie about something like that.
It was proximity of the black surrounding them that made the gray-blue so vivid, Grimes noted, as he meticulously ran the tip of the eyeliner pencil along the edge of his lower left lid, careful to keep the liner beneath the lashes. He swept the pencil back again, this time at an angle so the edge of the pencil smudged the line nicely. He blinked.
The word pencil comes from the word penis, via the words for tail and brush. Grimes thought those were all good words. He thought about getting the kind of eyeliner you need a brush to apply, but that would be even more difficult.
He'd always found it so hard to get an even line, to make it the same thickness all the way across, on both sides, and unwavering. There was nothing worse than a wavering line. Except for a line that was too thick. Too thick looked like too… much. But now he finally had the hang of it. Smokey gray-blue eyes gazed at him, lids lowered, whites gleaming, pupils sharp. Just right.
He'd done his research. Eyeliner is meant to bring out the color of eyes, the whites whiter and the darks darker, and to make them look bigger, make them look more sultry. Sultry was not a word he was ordinarily fond of using to describe himself, but he wanted something special, and sultry was certainly special.
McKnight was only home for three days. He would have to go back to base and stay there for the next two weeks as part of a new training course. He was going to be working with a brand new group of Rangers - the closest to raw recruits the Rangers ever saw. They would be incorporating some of the training procedures that had come out of McKnight's previous training program with the army captains and special operatives. Now it was time to try them out at ground level.
It was the kind of training ordinarily done by drill sergeants, but it was experimental, first time some of it had ever been done, so some techniques were untried. Plus, McKnight was a hands-on kind of officer.
Grimes wanted to make sure McKnight's hands would be on Grimes tonight.
He tilted his head and studied his reflection. The missing mole didn't make him look all that different. Maybe he looked a little younger. McKnight had moaned something about that the night before, but Grimes hadn't quite caught it all because his knees had been up around his ears and that made everything sound a bit fuzzy.
But Grimes knew that McKnight liked what he saw, because his asshole was still a little bit tender. Fucking would have to be off the menu for the rest of the time McKnight was home, which was only one more night.
Seemed sort of cruel to put on the eyeliner when fucking was not allowed, knowing that McKnight was so strict about not hurting him, knowing McKnight would refuse to fuck him no matter how much he wanted to fuck him. Thing was, Grimes couldn’t decide who it was more cruel to - McKnight or Grimes.
Oh, well. If he was going to be cruel, he might as well be cruel all the way.
Grimes reached to the back of his sock drawer and pulled out a new black tube, never been used. He opened it and twisted the bottom. It was not too dark, not too bright, not too shiny, and certainly not that glittery stuff - this was sedate lipstick. It was red - not orangey or pinky like some of the ones he'd looked at - real red, but subdued. He stretched his lips and glided the waxy stick over his lips. Damn, that was a weird, but in a good way.
He pursed his lips and stifled a snicker. There was no way McKnight would be able to look at those lips without thinking about them being on his cock. It would make it really easy for McKnight to find a substitute for fucking.
Grimes brushed his hair until it shone. Yes, McKnight would like that. He always did. Grimes would have liked to cut his hair short, so he wouldn’t have to spend so much time brushing it. When his hair was shorter, he could let it stick out or lie flat and it would look okay, because if it got messy it would just look like he'd been fucking and there was nothing wrong with that. When it was this long he had to brush it. If it was uncared for it looked dirty.
Just-fucked was okay, but dirty was unacceptable.
Of course, with this make-up on, he looked a whole other kind of dirty no matter how much he brushed his hair.
Yeah, McKnight was going to like this.
And he would be home soon! He'd only gone out to pick up some dinner for them. Grimes hoped he'd got something that wouldn't spoil. The make-up might delay eating for a while.
Grimes paused in front of the mirror. He saw a still youngish man, certainly looking younger than his age, in casual clothes and formal make-up. He didn't look exactly girlish, but the make-up looked out of place.
What the fuck was he doing? A guy like him wearing make-up. He looked ridiculous. It was absurd - he was a fucking U.S. Ranger.
But not anymore. Now he was just fucking a U.S. Ranger. And he still looked ridiculous.
Not quite. Not really ridiculous. More like…
He looked like a slut.
He smiled at himself, and the lipstick made his smile look naughty.
Jeans and a t-shirt were not going to cut it. McKnight was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He couldn’t be wearing the same thing as McKnight, not when he was looking like such a slut. Plus, it was so rare that McKnight ever wore civvies. Grimes should make this a very special occasion. He should dress up.
He looked out the window and saw the truck turn into their driveway. Now or never.
He went to the wardrobe. His fingers skipped lightly over the shoulder of his suit. It was too hot to wear a suit. And McKnight was afraid of damaging the suit. That wouldn't do.
Then he found what he wanted, and got dressed.
Grimes heard McKnight in the hall. He finished buttoning his shirt and checked to make sure he hadn't smudged his eyeliner getting dressed. He put on his good boots, which he hardly ever wore, and went into the living room. McKnight was in the kitchen. Grimes could hear him pouring himself a drink.
Grimes stood in the middle of the room wondering what he should do, if he should sit or stand, if he should somehow try to display himself.
"Motherfucker…"
Too late.
Grimes turned around to see McKnight standing in the doorway with a bourbon in one hand and a beer in the other, and his mouth hanging open.
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McKnight stopped the truck beside the house and grabbed the six-pack from the seat. He'd bought the beer for Grimes. Grimes hardly ever drank, but he did enjoy a beer every now and then. Much more than a few beers and Grimes got… floppy. In his limbs, not in his dick. His dick stayed hard, but he got very, very malleable in the skeleton.
McKnight tried not to think too hard about that, because it would get him way too hard. After a few drinks, Grimes would drape himself over McKnight, conforming to every bend and curve so there was no air between them. At all.
McKnight wouldn’t want that all the time. When Grimes got too floppy he lost some coordination, and that made things less precise. It made the blow jobs really sloppy. Which wasn't a bad thing, if you didn't mind long sloppy blow jobs. Which McKnight didn't. And it made the fucking… fuck! It made the fucking good, when Grimes went so loose and placid. Very good. McKnight could do just about anything he wanted, and Grimes would be all for it.
But if McKnight could have things one way and one way only, he would choose to have Grimes alert, bright-eyed and in full control. When Grimes was in full control, amazing things could happen.
It was up to Grimes. If Grimes wanted the beer, great - it was there for him. If he wanted to remain alert, all the better. The choice was his.
Tonight, McKnight wanted to give Grimes that choice because he wanted to do something special for Grimes. It was a short visit home, and ever since Grimes had walked in on him while he was smoking, McKnight had got pretty well whatever he wanted. Not everything - that was impossible - but a whole lot of what he wanted. He felt he should do something just for Grimes for a change.
Maybe tonight he would stretch Grimes out on the bed and lick him all over. Or maybe they could take a bath together. Or maybe Grimes would like to have a few beers and drape himself all over McKnight and give him wet, sloppy kisses all over. There couldn't be any fucking, because McKnight was pretty sure Grimes needed a break from that after the night before, but there were plenty of other things besides fucking.
Although, the fucking had been really spectacular the night before. McKnight didn't like to think they owed any of their pleasure to anyone else, but he might have to send Grimes' yoga instructor some flowers or something.
He got the ribs and wings from the back of the truck and went inside.
The back room was dark compared to outside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He put the food on the table and sat on his chair to untie his boots. It was hot enough to go barefoot, and Grimes would appreciate the informality of it. He put his boots away and took the food into the kitchen, and then went to the bathroom and took a piss, and looked at himself in the mirror.
Fucking crew cut was getting more white every day.
No, he'd been out in the sun a lot. It was bleached from the sun. That was it. Some of it was white, but a lot of it was bleached blond. It made him look a little older, but older had never bothered Grimes.
Older or not, he was still in good shape. Not shape like those young kids he was going to start teaching tomorrow - bunch of fucking gym rats, they were. That was okay. Wouldn’t take him long to teach them that there's a difference between what happens on a Nautilus machine and what happens in the field, under realistic conditions. As realistic as he could make it for them without engaging with an actual enemy. Couple of weeks under his command and they'd be thinking fondly of basic training. They'd find out why a physique like McKnight's was so much more useful than those low-body-fat, over-muscled, pumped-up shapes the young guys liked so much.
The young guys except for Grimes, that is.
It was too bad he had to stay on base for so long. If he were coming home to Grimes at night, he'd wake refreshed and in a good mood. After spending the night alone in a tent or the barracks or even in the more lavish officer's quarters he tried to avoid, he would wake rested but not comfortably so, and in a grouchy mood. All part of the training, he figured. If he ever took this unit into combat, they'd be able to take the pressure.
Maybe he should take it easy on the new guys. He'd try to get as much as he could out of this special occasion so he wouldn't get grumpy for at least a few days.
He poured himself a bourbon, and opened a beer, went into the living room, and had to use every ounce of his self discipline to not drop the drinks on the floor.
Motherfucker. It was going to be a special occasion.
It was shock enough to see Grimes standing in the middle of the room in his perfectly fitting desert cammo BDU. Perfectly fitting, just like when McKnight had procured the uniform for Grimes, except that Grimes was bigger now. Sanderson must have kept his promise and made sure Grimes ate regularly while McKnight was away.
Grimes was still lean, but he had a bit more muscle, and the muscle he had was always being refined. It was all that stretching he did. And holding still. Amazing what holding still could do for a body. It made him more supple, sure, but it did so without compromising any of the… there was no other word for it - curves. Grimes had fucking curves. His ass had curves. Everyone's got them. But the curves on Grimes…
That little bit of weight made the uniform fit even more perfectly. It was fucking molded to Grimes' ass. Goddamn. That was enough to stop McKnight in his tracks.
Not only that, but his hair was brushed out and shining and McKnight could feel it wrapped around his fingers just from looking at it.
"Motherfucker," indeed.
But then Grimes turned around, and he was not only wearing his perfectly fitting desert cammos. He was wearing… McKnight wasn't even sure what he was wearing. Eyeliner? Mascara? somehow he'd made his eyes go all smokey and jesus, what was the fucking word?
Sultry, goddamn it.
And his lips were darker than usual.
McKnight couldn't tell at first if Grimes had on lipstick or if he'd been biting his lips or sucking on something… something big… which was impossible because McKnight's cock had not been inside Grimes' mouth since the night before. They'd had a no-sex morning, and a no-sex afternoon, and now it was evening and it was time for sex because, yes, that was fucking lipstick on Grimes, lipstick that would have to be removed somehow, and McKnight had the idea that licking it off would be very entertaining.
Lipstick. Motherfucking lipstick.
All these thoughts raced through McKnight's head.
And then he dropped the beer.
Grimes lunged forward and caught the beer before it hit the floor. Excellent catch, if he did say so himself, but not all that impressive, because the falling of one or both drinks was fairly predictable as soon as McKnight snapped his jaw shut and ground his teeth like that. Control of at least one hand had been bound to falter.
The beer sloshed over Grimes' hand. He put the can down and stood, holding out his wet hand in front of him, unsure of how to clean it. He didn't want to wipe it on his fresh uniform.
McKnight recovered admirably. He put down the bourbon, grabbed Grimes' beer-wet hand and licked it clean.
The evening was starting excellently.
Grimes stayed standing through force of will as McKnight's tongue tickled between his fingers. When McKnight finished licking, he still held Grimes' hand in his. "I didn't know this was a formal occasion," he said huskily.
Grimes stared at McKnight's mouth, because McKnight was licking his lips while he stared at Grimes' mouth. He really wanted to feel that tongue on him. Anywhere. "Oh, you mean the uniform?" he said weakly.
"No." McKnight let go of Grimes' hand and raised his thumb to Grime's lips. He ran the tip of it across Grimes' lower lip, not enough to smear, only to smudge.
Grimes wondered if the lipstick had been a good idea after all. He started to feel a little silly. Eyeliner and lipstick and an army uniform. And he wasn't even in the army anymore. What the fuck was that all about?
"Why don't you sit down?" McKnight suggested. He steered Grimes to the chair - McKnight's chair. Fuck. "Sit down and have a drink," he said.
He handed Grimes the bourbon.
Just one, only one. He wouldn’t let Grimes' have more than one shot of hard liquor. He didn't want him floppy after all. Not when Grimes looked like that. But one bourbon would loosen him up enough to let McKnight have his way. Not that McKnight would ever do anything Grimes didn't want him to do. It was just that sometimes Grimes wasn't sure what he wanted. Or there was something McKnight wanted that Grimes didn't know Grimes wanted. Yet.
McKnight wanted Grimes alert, so his eyes would be bright behind that stain of dark eyeliner, and his lips would be agile under that dark red - not too dark but definitely red - lipstick.
Grimes sat nervously on the edge of the chair. He took a sip of the bourbon. McKnight drank what was left of the beer.
"Sir, maybe I should-"
"You should finish your drink," McKnight suggested.
"This is your drink, sir."
"Drink your bourbon," McKnight ordered.
Grimes drank the rest in one gulp, then made a noise like a gasp but deeper.
That, McKnight decided, was the exact same noise Grimes was going to make later on, when Grimes put his cock inside McKnight.
But it took a lot of convincing to get Grimes to do that. McKnight would have to play his cards judiciously.
Usually, McKnight didn't really like penetration. Didn't feel all that good. It didn't particularly hurt, it just didn't feel that great. It wasn't like he thought it demeaned him to be penetrated. It wasn't like a macho thing.
Maybe a little.
Okay, so yeah, he liked to be the one who did the penetrating. He liked the idea of pushing inside Grimes' body, getting so close he was inside, filling him up. So what? Didn't make him a jerk. He liked what he liked, and Grimes sure as hell liked getting fucked, so there was no problem. But every once in a while…
McKnight liked bourbon. But every now and then, he drank rum.
And every now and then, Grimes wore lipstick and it made McKnight want Grimes' cock in his ass.
Simple, really.
McKnight wasn't entirely comfortable with the kind of analysis your average shrink might use to explain that. Something to do with role reversals and power imbalance and sublimated desires, probably.
Fuck that. McKnight had a simpler explanation: The first time Grimes had ever worn lipstick was the first time Grimes had ever fucked McKnight. And he'd been wearing McKnight's uniform at the time.
Well, technically, McKnight had taken the uniform off him by the time they fucked.
But now he was wearing a uniform - the uniform McKnight had given him - and he was wearing lipstick. The parallels were irrefutable. Plus, he had that eyeliner on, and it was making him look so unbelievably -
"Sir?"
McKnight snapped to attention. "You're going to fuck me," he said abruptly.
Grimes' eyes opened really really wide.
Grimes had not even thought of that.
He should have. The parallels were unassailable.
He was in uniform and wearing lipstick. He could still remember the night of the dance, McKnight putting the lipstick on him, and the way McKnight had pushed him and pulled him and talked him into fucking him, and the unbearable tightness, and the way McKnight had looked at him after it was over. Stared at him for so long.
But he honestly, truly and genuinely had not even thought of that when he was putting on the make-up or the uniform. He'd put on the eyeliner because he knew it would make McKnight a little bit wild, and he'd wanted to make McKnight a little bit wild. And he'd put on the lipstick because he'd wanted to look a little slutty, which would McKnight even more wild. And he'd put on the uniform because… because McKnight had given it to him and McKnight liked the way it looked on him.
And it would make McKnight even more wild.
He hadn't thought about fucking McKnight at all. Of course, not. The combination was an accident, that was all.
He didn't fuck McKnight every time he put on the uniform. In fact, he'd never fucked McKnight while wearing his own uniform - only McKnight's. And they didn't always fuck when he wore lipstick. In fact, the last time he'd worn lipstick, he'd ended up on his knees in the woods, sucking McKnight's cock in the middle of the night, while McKnight whispered orders to him. "Jerk off onto the leaves, harder…" Like that.
He'd only done the eyeliner a few times. That usually ended with Grimes flat on his back, legs in the air, full of cock and loving it. Which couldn't happen tonight, because fucking was not on the menu, but still, that was what usually happened.
The combination of all three elements was rare. He'd only ever worn lipstick once before while wearing any army uniform. And he'd never worn the eyeliner while wearing the uniform. And only once had be worn the eyeliner and the lipstick at the same time, and what had happened then had been the exact opposite of Grimes fucking McKnight.
"I didn't mean for that," Grimes said.
"Sure, you did."
"No, sir. I didn't. I wasn't thinking that. I wasn't thinking at all. I was just having some fun, that's all."
"You're going to fuck me."
"No, sir, I don't do the fucking. You do the fucking."
"You're sitting in my chair."
"So?"
"So, you must want to do the fucking."
That was absurd.
Almost as absurd as a man in an army uniform, lipstick and eyeliner.
"You're going to fuck me, John. We're going to go upstairs, and you're going to put your cock inside me. That's a fucking order."
Grimes was not one to directly disobey an order. He nodded and licked his lips, tasting bourbon and waxy pigment.
"But first, we're going to get rid of that lipstick."
Taking the lipstick off was always as much fun as putting it on.
"I think I should come in your mouth before you fuck me," McKnight said thoughtfully.
God, yes.
Grimes worked his lips up and down McKnight's cock, covering every bit of it with smears of red lipstick. He pulled his mouth away. McKnight's cock was rosy all over, but even the coating of lipstick couldn't compete with the rich, dark color of the head.
"That's nice," McKnight said, even huskier than before. "Good job, Specialist." He wanted to say pretty, but Grimes was self-conscious enough about the make-up without the implication that he was girly.
Grimes licked the tip and made McKnight's balls shake.
McKnight sometimes amazed even himself with his good ideas. Coming in Grimes mouth would make Grimes feel much better about this whole thing. And it would make it easier for McKnight, when the time for fucking came, because Grimes was always easier to fuck if he'd come before, so there was no reason to think that it wouldn't be easier for McKnight to get fucked after coming. All that twitching of the asshole acts like a warm-up.
If there was anything McKnight knew, it was the importance of a good warm-up.
Grimes sucked down the head again.
McKnight's favorite warm-up.
McKnight was getting nervous, and that would not make the thing he was nervous about any easier. It would make it more difficult. He tried to get more comfortable, but that's difficult to do when you've got your jeans pushed down to your thighs and your legs spread as wide as they can be, straddling someone else's thighs.
But Grimes had been sitting there in McKnight's chair, wearing his uniform, and it had seemed like a good idea for McKnight to stand while Grimes sucked his cock. It added a layer of role reversal, or took one away. McKnight wasn't sure. For them to be truly role reversing, McKnight would have had to be sucking Grimes' dick, which he was not opposed to, except they had to get the lipstick off, and wiping it on McKnight's dick had seemed like a good idea. Now he wanted to come in Grimes' mouth but he didn't know if he could, standing up like this with his legs being strangled by his jeans and…
Jesus, McKnight had only had part of one beer, so he couldn't be drunk - how had his logic so utterly failed?
Grimes pulled his mouth off McKnight's cock and panted around it for a few seconds. "Sir, I'd really like to go upstairs now."
No. It would take to much time to get up the stairs. "I have to come in your mouth," McKnight said.
"Sir, I'm not comfortable in this chair."
Aw, fuck, not this again.
Fine.
"So, get out of the chair if you don't like it. I don't see why you don't. I like the chair."
So McKnight sat in the chair, and Grimes knelt on the floor in front of the chair.
"I like it here better, sir," Grimes said, and then his red-smeared lips covered McKnight's cock again.
And, in time, McKnight came in Grimes' mouth.
That was easy, McKnight thought. Too easy.
"You're still going to fuck me, whether I'm sitting on the chair or not," McKnight said as soon as he had enough breath to do so.
Grimes licked his swollen, stained, wet lips. "Mmm, yes, sir. Upstairs." He knelt up so McKnight could see him, unbuttoned his fly, and pulled his cock out.
Grimes' cock looked bigger when it was hanging out of a BDU.
McKnight stared at it.
Grimes stood and grabbed McKnight by the front of his t-shirt. "Am I fucking you, or what?" he asked.
McKnight stared into smoky sultry eyes. Jesus fuck, what had just got into Grimes?
Grimes tightened his fingers in McKnight's shirt. He didn't really think he could fuck McKnight properly, but maybe if he pretended he could, if he went along with it, he could get McKnight sufficiently turned on to forget about it and do something else instead.
McKnight was staring down at Grimes' hands like he'd just been grabbed by an alien.
Then he looked up into Grimes' eyes, and he looked shocked.
"Am I fucking you, or what?" Grimes asked, praying the answer would be 'or what'.
McKnight lunged up out of the chair and grabbed Grimes by the shirtfront. "You're fucking me, soldier. You're fucking me, and you're coming in my ass."
Aw, fuck. That was the wrong answer.
Grimes had never, ever come in McKnight's ass. There was too much risk in that. It could be messy. It was okay if Grimes got messy, but if McKnight got messy there might be embarrassment involved. There sometimes was when Grimes got messy, but that was okay because he liked embarrassment. McKnight didn't. What if something embarrassing happened?
And besides that, McKnight didn't even like getting fucked in the ass. Not with a cock. He liked a tongue. Sometimes a finger, more often only part of a finger.
"I could lick you instead," Grimes said. He swiped his lips with his tongue, to emphasize the point.
McKnight groaned a bit in the back of his throat. Good sign.
"That would be a good way to get me ready," McKnight said.
Okay. Good start. Grimes started to walk backwards toward the stairs. McKnight followed, eyes darting between Grimes' lips and his cock. By the time Grimes had backed all the way up the stairs his cock was leaking and ready to burst just from McKnight's eyes on it. That and, at the landing, McKnight had stopped him with a hand on his hip, and hand leaned over to lick it.
Grimes stumbled on the top step and had to grab the railing to keep from falling over.
"That cock getting a little too heavy for you to carry?" McKnight leered.
There was no way Grimes would last long enough to get McKnight prepared for fucking. "Maybe I should come, sir. Take the edge off."
"I like the edge," McKnight rumbled and grabbed Grimes' cock. He tugged, dragging Grimes across the hall to their bedroom.
Yeah, the edge was good. Grimes pushed McKnight's jeans back down and McKnight sat on the bed so Grimes could take them all the way off. McKnight's cock was nice and soft from just coming, and Grimes wished he had the time to play with it gently for a while, with his hands and his mouth, but he had to get McKnight ready for fucking, even if his plan was to somehow distract McKnight form the fucking, because if his plan failed and he did end up fucking, it would be easier now that McKnight had come, and he didn't want the effects of the orgasm to wear off.
It was so much easier when McKnight fucked Grimes.
Maybe Grimes could -
"I know what you're thinking," McKnight growled. He pulled Grimes' pants down enough to stick his hand inside, between Grimes' legs. He pressed past Grimes' balls, and Grimes had to spread his legs or be crushed. McKnight prodded Grimes' asshole with his finger.
Grimes winced.
McKnight went 'mmmm'. "Nice," he said. "Nice and warm and I'd love to, John, but you're still a bit tender from last night."
Grimes nodded, holding his breath. It didn't exactly hurt, but even the pad of McKnight's finger gave him a touch of a burn.
McKnight yanked him down so he was kneeling on the floor. As soon as the angle changed, McKnight was able to slide his hand farther in, and he cupped the underside of one cheek. "I loved being inside your hot ass last night. Don't get me wrong. But tonight…" He slid his hand out again and gripped Grimes by the cock again.
"Yes, sir," Grimes whispered. "I'd really like to get you ready for that, sir."
McKnight pushed Grimes back, and then he lowered himself to the floor and turned away from Grimes. He bent over the bed.
McKnight waited. Grimes was just kneeling on the floor, not doing anything to him at all. McKnight started to count under his breath. At five, he felt a light touch on the small of his back. McKnight spread his knees a little. "Both hands," he ordered.
Two hands spread over his ass and there might have been a barely whispered "yes, sir" but he couldn’t be sure over the sound of his own heavy breathing.
Grimes' fingers were tentative at first. McKnight didn't know why - it wasn't like Grimes had never done this before. He'd had his tongue inside McKnight lots of times. But this was with intent to fuck, so maybe it was different. Or maybe his ass wasn't what Grimes wanted. Or maybe getting fucked by Grimes while he wore his BDU and lipstick and that fucking eyeliner was McKnight's thing, not Grimes' thing, and this was a mistake.
"There a problem?" he asked gruffly. There better not be a problem, because the way the lipstick had smeared all over Grimes' lips and around his lips… he was sure he would be able to feel the texture of the lipstick against his asshole, and he wanted it so badly.
"Problem?" Grimes asked quietly. "God, no, sir. I just… I'm taking time to appreciate this."
Appreciate what? McKnight thought. It's just an ass. It wasn't like it was Grimes' ass. When McKnight got Grimes in this position, there was a reason to stop and take time to appreciate the view. But -
"Motherfucker!" McKnight bellowed.
That was a tongue on his balls, and the way the lips glided over the skin beneath his asshole was not like something lubricated sliding - it was definitely like something waxed. And the puff of hot air followed by hotter tongue made McKnight clench his fists in the blanket and clench the muscles of his ass.
Short, sharp little kitten licks urged him to relax again. Quick kisses, and then longer kisses, followed by the kind of tongue action that made his legs go wide. Fuck, yeah, this was what he wanted. He turned his head and looked in the mirror.
"Look," he gasped.
Grimes raised his head and turned toward the mirror. "Oh, my god, sir," he said.
Grimes' cock was sticking out from his pants as he knelt on the ground, but other than that he was fully clothed - fully uniformed - and McKnight was naked from the waist down with his t-shirt pushed up and his ass sticking out and Grimes' wet mouth gleamed.
Grimes straightened up, still kneeling but no longer with his face buried in McKnight's ass. "I'm at the exact right height," he said.
McKnight knew that. He'd known it all along. And he'd knelt on the floor in that same place with Grimes bent over the bed, and had fucked him there on numerous occasions, but Grimes had never done that to him.
"Sir, I need you to be very, very ready," Grimes said right before he dove back in.
Lips and tongue everywhere, and even scraping teeth. Fingers pushing him open, holding his ass open, poking inside but not too far. Then Grimes spit - fucking spit on his asshole - and McKnight tried to shove his ass back more. Grimes pushed the spit inside with his tongue.
McKnight thought about asking Grimes how his cock was holding up, but that would have meant Grimes' mouth leaving his asshole, and that would have been unbearable. Besides, he could see in the mirror. Grimes' cock was just fine. Grimes didn't reach down to touch it, but he did arch his back so his stomach would press it against his thighs. He wriggled to relieve some of the pressure. When his ass wriggled, his tongue wriggled too, which made McKnight's ass wriggle. The two of them were moving all over the place.
Grimes heaved himself up and shuffled forward. "May I, sir?"
He hadn't been convinced when McKnight told him to fuck him.
He hadn't been convinced when McKnight ordered him either.
But he had been convinced when McKnight told him to look, and he'd seen himself in the uniform, looking like a real soldier in spite of the lipstick and the eyeliner. He looked strong in that uniform. And McKnight wasn't in uniform. He was barely in civvies. And bent over the bed like that, he hadn't looked like he usually did at all.
Usually, McKnight looked tough. Maybe a little rough. He looked strong. He looked really fucking solid. But naked and bent over and spread out like that, he looked…
Voluptuous.
Jesus, Grimes thought. All this time he'd been thinking about McKnight's size as a power thing. As a masculine, and virile and sturdy and something he could succumb to. And all this time, McKnight had been hiding that under his uniform.
It wasn't just hidden under his uniform. It was under his skin. It was in his personality.
But tonight, for some reason. The eyeliner, the uniform… the bourbon. Grimes never drank bourbon. It had to be the bourbon. Or the chair. He'd been sitting in McKnight's chair. Was it the chair?
"The lipstick," McKnight groaned. "Oh, fuck, the lipstick." He held up a bottle of lube.
Grimes drizzled lube over his cock and fingers. The lipstick. Odd.
But he was very glad he'd put it on.
He touched a fingertip to McKnight's asshole. "It's smeared all over you," Grimes said. "There's lipstick on your asshole."
McKnight moaned.
"And now there's my finger in your asshole." He sank his finger into the tightness. Not as tight as usual. So hot and smooth. He spread the lube all over his cock with his other hand. "Two fingers," he said.
McKnight moaned louder and spread even more. "And your cock," he said. "You're gonna fuck my ass."
Grimes nodded. He didn't have to speak. McKnight was watching him in the mirror, even though he was only watching his fingers as they disappeared inside McKnight. He twisted them and felt inside. He brushed his fingers over the bump inside and McKnight's voice tightened around his moan the same way his asshole tightened around Grimes' fingers.
"No, don't do that," Grimes said softly. "Don't tighten up on me, Danny." He wiggled his fingers slowly. "Loosen up for me. Open up. Come on. You were nice and loose when I had my tongue inside you."
McKnight buried his face in the blanket and let the air out of his lungs. The pressure let up.
"Can you feel my lips on you? The lipstick smearing all over your asshole..." Grimes twisted his fingers again. "That's it, Danny. Come undone for me…" Grimes wondered if this was how it felt on McKnight's fingers when he concentrated on loosening himself, on opening up, on taking McKnight's fingers inside him.
If it was, no wonder McKnight always seemed to enjoy it so much.
"I'm going to really fuck you this time," Grimes said. Not just in and out like he usually did. He wasn't going to pull out when things got tense. He didn't regret the times he'd pulled out and come on the outside. He didn't resent that at all. But he could tell McKnight wanted to really get fucked, and he was ready for it too.
McKnight's cock was tucked under his body against the mattress. Grimes put a lube-slicked hand on McKnight's hip and urged him back. "I wanna be able to touch your cock when I'm fucking you," he explained.
McKnight shuffled away from the bed. That was good. McKnight could arch his back now, drop his belly down and get a better angle, but still support his upper body on the bed.
There wasn't any more prep to do.
Grimes pulled his fingers out. "Don't move," he said, like he was used to giving the orders.
McKnight nodded and took deep breaths.
So slippery. The combination of lube and lipstick, McKnight thought. He kept that thought at the front of his mind while Grimes slid inside. Lube and lipstick and that fucking uniform hugging every curve of Grimes' body. McKnight stretched open and there was a bit of a burn but he liked it a lot more than he ever had before. Fucking lipstick, he thought as Grimes filled him up and he wanted even more.
And there was more. Because every time he was filled up, Grimes pulled out and filled him up again, but he never felt empty, so the refill felt like it was filling him up even more, and that began to build and build and build. Grimes' hands were on his ass, kneading and squeezing him as he was filled and refilled, moving on his ass the way his hands usually moved on Grimes' ass. McKnight struggled to remember how he knew Grimes wanted him to handle his ass even more. Yes! He could arch his back, push his ass into Grimes' hands.
He did so, and Grimes' hands moved faster. Perfect. More. He moaned into the mattress, but that wasn't loud enough to have the desired effect, so he lifted his head and moaned, and Grimes pushed into him very hard, gripped his ass and started to rock McKnight back and forth. Better. Better. The size of Grimes' cock wasn't being the sort of barrier it had been when he'd been fucked before. It didn't feel big, or small. It felt like it was where it was supposed to be. And the stretching of his asshole didn't make him panic as it had in the past - it felt urgent, but not a dangerous urgent. It only made him want Grimes to move faster.
"Faster," he gasped.
"I'm fucking you as fast as I can."
"Faster!"
Grimes pumped into him and McKnight couldn’t tell if he was imagining the hand on his cock and the breath on his back and the slap of Grimes' belly against his ass or not. He was hard, he realized. Very hard. That had never happened before while he was being fucked. He was hard and he wanted to come while Grimes was inside him, and then he wanted Grimes to come inside him and maybe then he'd be filled up.
But Grimes was fumbling at him. There was a lot of lube, and not a lot of space with that great big cock between his thighs and his stomach. McKnight pushed himself up off the bed so he was upright.
Grimes let go of his ass and slid that hand around the front to his chest. He pressed his face between McKnight's shoulder blades and moved his hand on McKnight's cock. Fast. "Yes, yes," Grimes said.
Yes, yes sounded ideal. McKnight reached back and got a hand on the small of Grimes' back, holding him close, tight inside. He shoved his hips back and groaned as he got ready to come. Grimes' cock grew inside him, or maybe he got tighter. Buttons and flaps scraped over his bare skin. McKnight drove himself onto Grimes' cock and started to come.
He didn't just come. First he had to start to come. That lasted a while, long enough for him to wonder if it was ever going to move to the next phase. Then he was coming, and that lasted even longer, with ropes of semen stretching out to the edge of the bedding and Grimes' hand still moving on him. After that he was finishing coming, and Grimes' hand stopped moving but his hips were pumping and McKnight had to bend over again so Grimes could get deeper inside.
With his own come smeared across his face, McKnight turned again to look in the mirror and watch Grimes fuck him hard, with his back arched and his face tilted up and his eyes closed, then eyes open and looking at McKnight's eyes in the mirror. Eyes dark and smudged in the mirror because he was sweating and the eyeliner was smeared like the lipstick was smeared and Grimes had never looked so slutty before.
God, he looked like such a slut but not a slut at all because he'd only ever done this with one person. Grimes forced himself to look away from the mirror. He looked down at McKnight's ass, McKnight's voluptuous ass with what looked like a very large cock fucking his lipstick-smeared asshole, and Grimes lost it completely. He lost it so completely he didn't think he'd ever get it back again. He started to come and he couldn’t have pulled out if he'd been given a direct order. He came inside McKnight and his balls were not only emptied, his whole body was emptied.
Grimes fell on top of McKnight's broad back and his face was smeared with the lipstick and eyeliner he'd left there earlier when McKnight was coming. He was a mess after that. And he didn't care one bit about all his careful work being smeared all over his face and McKnight's back and McKnight's cock and McKnight's asshole. Which he was still inside.
"Oh," Grimes said. "Oh." He'd just come inside McKnight. But it was okay. It had been with permission. More than permission. "That was a fucking order," he reassured himself.
McKnight shifted under him and his cock slipped out wetly.
He had to clean that up right away. He always wanted to get cleaned up after fucking. He had to get a towel or something, and he had to… but he couldn’t, because he was being lifted up off McKnight's back and onto the bed.
McKnight's mouth was on his, hard and demanding in a way it rarely was after McKnight fucked him. Grimes opened his mouth and enjoyed in a passive way. It was like being fucked after fucking.
By the time McKnight had enough, there was no lipstick left on Grimes' lips at all, but McKnight's mouth looked a little rosier than usual.
Grimes reached up and ran his fingers over them.
"I see what you mean, sir. The lipstick. Makes me want you to fuck me."
McKnight laughed. "Yeah, when my dick can get hard again. That could take a few weeks." He pulled the bedspread up over Grimes. "You rest. I gotta go get cleaned up."
Grimes pushed the bedspread down. "Can't I… can't I help, sir?"
After all, Grimes knew how much he liked shower gel-slicked fingers cleaning him up after getting fucked…
Back to Soldier Porn or on to the next Long Haul story, The Tech Guy
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