911(inclusive)

and buck. thinks about it. thinks about all the things he could do to tommy without tommy even knowing, without tommy really being there, a rush of images flooding his mind, and he feels a little sick at the same time his dick twitches in his boxers. "you'd be asleep though. how'd you tell me to stop if you want me to stop?"

"i don't want you to stop."

"tommy."

eyes still closed, tommy raises a bitchy eyebrow. "evan."

"you don't..." buck swallows. "you don't know what i'd do to you."

despite the conversation, tommy's voice slows down in sleep. "i trust you. keep going. wanna get you off. don't worry about me."

'i trust you'. tommy -- tommy's insane, right? but as buck watches tommy's brow smooth over in sleep, buck doesn't get soft. with trembling fingers, he reaches out and strokes over tommy's chest again, and tommy doesn't move. tommy trusts buck.

buck moans when he straddles tommy, their cocks rubbing against each other through the fabric of their pjs. as buck watches tommy snuffle and settle back down, he thrusts forward. considering how tired tommy is, he's still pretty hard, giving buck something nice to thrust against.

buck isn't one to reject a gift like that. he ruts up against tommy's bulge, sure he'll get to something different soon. maybe he'll try blowing tommy again? his first try was a little embarrassing, he kept gagging and tears started falling from his eyes. tommy still came and said it was super hot, but buck can do better for sure. it's not like there's anyone conscious around to judge buck's skills this time. buck thrusts up against tommy again. and shouldn't buck do something nice for tommy?

carefully, buck moves to lie down between Tommy's legs, the pressure of the mattress against his hard cock a relief. buck watches tommy's face as he tugs down tommy's pj's, but there's no reaction. tommy's dick curves to the left as it comes free, and buck doesn't swallow down the drool in his mouth. he can use it; he loves a messy blow job, and even though he doesn't know how Tommy likes them, he can't exactly ask the guy right now, so buck'll go for what he likes. it's okay, though, tommy trusts buck.

buck grinds against the mattress as he drools over tommy's cock, using his spit as lube for his hand running over the length of tommy's dick. he can't take much more than just the head of tommy's cock. he sucks and swirls his tongue over it, using his hand to make up for not taking too much of it down, and it isn't too long before tommy's hips are twitching up, even as his face stays sleep-lax.

buck can taste the salty, bitter precome tommy must be leaking, and he moans around his mouthful. "ev'n," tommy murmurs with one more intense thrust that has buck gagging and rolling his hips against the mattress. he's so close, but he can't come before tommy does. tommy trusts buck. so instead he focuses on Tommy, tommy filling up his mouth so well and his cock twitching against buck's tongue and tommy grunting in his sleep as he fucks buck's face so gently.

finally, finally, tommy spills his come down buck's throat, and buck can barely swallow it down before he's humping the mattress a half dozen times and coming in his pants, forehead pressed against tommy's hip as he moans, "fuck, fuck, fuck."

He's blunt, perhaps too much so, but he's been on the phone with his parents for longer than he's spent on the phone with his parents maybe ever, and he has this stabbing headache and he still hasn't gotten enough sleep, even though he had the place to himself last night.

Eddie had to pick Buck up from the hospital after he finally got Maddie settled, after she made it clear that dragging her away from Chimney would do more harm than good for both of them. Eddie had to pick Buck up because not only was his car not there, but also by that point his vision was tilting and his level of exhaustion would have made him a drunk driver in all but name.

Buck's insistence on coming back here to where his car is parked and he could pack some of Maddie's things up for her rather than taking the offer of Eddie's couch, however, means that he has to be here. In this place. Blood on the concrete just beyond the door.

"Evan," she says his name in the tone of an admonishment, an old familiar adage on the lips of Margaret Buckley.

"He did. That's what happened. I don't know what you want me to say."

"Don't-- You don't have to be angry," she sounds weepier, now, with a thickness to her voice. "My daughter was almost-- You could be kinder, how you explain it."

"Well, you didn't like when I was being vague," Buck mutters. He's not sure whether they hear him or not, a murmur of their own just barely audible on the other end of the line.

They've always been like that, to a certain extent. The tendency to lean on each other, to rely on each other, even when doing so meant neglecting being there for their children. Buck has never quite been able to wrap his head around it, given the fact that they can be good with kids when they want to be. They're teachers, so it must be something about their kids specifically.

"How did it get this bad?" Margaret pleads. "We knew he wasn't right for her, but to be that violent? To actually hurt her?"

"We couldn't have known," Phillip says, clearly for her benefit, once again, rather than Buck's.

Buck who was the one Maddie came to when she finally got out. Buck who chased her halfway across the state when it all went wrong. Buck who watched Chimney nearly bleed out beneath his hands one minute and held Maddie's own collapsing body in his arms the next.

They couldn't have known? They couldn't have seen it? This is the thing that really breaks him, on the floor of the kitchen so he doesn't have to look at the living room where he found her abandoned phone and wallet, where he realized what had happened, when he recognized that it was coming to pass, the very thing he knew-- the whole damn time-- was the greatest thing to fear.

"You could have," he tells his parents. "You should have. You should have known."

"You blame us?" Margaret, still crying, asks. "We didn't even know she was in California. With you. Our own children, not bothering to keep us in the loop--"

"You took yourself out of the loop!" Buck exclaims, something like bitter laughter coloring his breath. "You cut her off the second she got engaged! I mean, I know-- I-- I know that Doug was a master manipulator. Men like him always are, right? It's the reason I didn't get to talk to my sister for three years. But he didn't even--" another bark of laughter, "have to lift a finger with you two! You took yourselves out of the equation without any interference. He would've killed her. He almost did. She was-- she was bleeding so much--"

"Stop! Stop it," she cries. "Why must you make everything so much-- so much scarier? Why do you have to embellish like that? With the violence of it?"

"Did you think it wasn't violent?" Buck questions in disbelief. "He wouldn't be dead if she hadn't had to protect herself like that. He made it so that only one of them was going to walk away and all that matters is that it was her. How would you prefer I explain that?"

"Oh, oh, I just can't. I can't with you. Not right now. You take bad situations and you make them so big, Evan. You make everything so much bigger than I know how to carry and I just can't-- Phillip will you--"

The fumbling of the receiver, crackling with movement, and their voices are less hushed this time but he can't make out what they're saying all the same. She's walking away, which he should have expected, but his chest clenches with a searing guilt to match that in his head.

They'll never come, now, even if Maddie were to ask. He's ruined it for her, for all of them, because there's no chance that their mother is getting herself together quickly enough to be here and be a support system. That's just not how Margaret Buckley works. She breaks down easily and builds back up with so much effort, so much time.

Give me time, she always begged of him when he got on her nerves and drove her to crawl back into bed in the middle of the day. Give me space, Evan, please.

"I wasn't trying to make it…" he trails off, when he hears Phillip raise the phone to his ear, the noise shifting and changing now that he's no longer on speakerphone. "I just didn't want you guys to find out from-- the news, or something. I thought it would be better coming from me."

Phillip hums out a sound of understanding, or maybe just acknowledgment. The room is spinning again and Buck should go back to sleep. He really shouldn't drive himself to the hospital like he was planning, but maybe Eddie would be willing… if he asked…

"I thought it would be better," he repeats, "coming from me."