#queer fic

Winter. KY. Rooms 632 & 709.

Tim's eyes snap open, a halo of sweat around his nape despite the snowstorm raging on outside the window and Dave’s insistence on the AC running inside the room. He raises his head from the damp pillow to study the outline of Dave’s shoulder rising and falling steadily in the dark. Asleep, he assumes. 

Staring at the ceiling, minutes pass and his erection strains against the light sheets. Unable to bear it, he flips onto his stomach. Allows himself one slow grind of his hips to take the edge off, his forearm smothering the grunt.

Nicotine. Juggle a craving. Make your mouth useful in some way. He reaches down to the floor, patting around for his trousers until he hears the clink of his Zippo against a fresh box in a pocket. 

“You awake?” Tim calls out in a whisper, pack in hand before really committing to throwing pants to light up on the balcony.

“Yeah,” Dave rasps back immediately. “Been awake. Why?” 

Tim drops the cigarettes back to the floor. He rocks into the mattress again, sheets clinging to his skin now where he’s been leaking. Slices of the dream he woke from play behind his eyelids. Everything was warm flesh and urgent gropes. He played the star with an over accomplished mouth, adept at wringing someone dry of excited moans. 

“I want your cock in my mouth,” Tim states matter of fact, like it’s natural. Casual. A perfectly normal thing to say at…whatever time it is. “Want to suck your cock, yeah. That’s all.”

“What?” Dave’s voice notches higher with genuine surprise. Sheets swish as he twists his body further into Tim, squinting then and searching for signs that this is all sleep talk. 

“I had a dream about it,” Tim explains, all soft eyed resting his head in the ditch of his elbow. 

“Bullshit.”

There’s no bite. Tim thinks he even hears a smile in his voice, the twin bed creaking as Dave inches closer still - so, not complete rejection. 

“I’m serious. I’ll make it good, I promise.” 

Navy blue shadows paint the walls, the curtains only allowing a small sliver of silver light to bleed into the room through their edges. It’s enough. Tim can still make out the sharp line of Dave’s jaw, darker with some shadow now and the slight pout shaping his lips as he thinks over the offer. Waiting, his fingers search beneath the light sheets, fanning over Dave’s chest and ribs, picking up his quickening heartbeat before finding his cock, already swelling against his palm.  

“Yeah. Okay,” Dave says against the seam of Tim’s lips, pinning the blame on jetlag for his delayed response. Brussels to here, security lines to insipid presentations - more sleep would be wise. But Tim’s mouth is convincing, more tempting somehow now that he’s overtired. It opens half a breath later and Dave’s tongue sweeps across his upper lip, tracing the curve of it. Tim’s “I promise” echoes. How absurd it is for a tone as tender as that to come from someone with shoulders so wide and paws that. Hooks his arm around his neck to deepen the kiss, decides then that it will be good. 

Tim props himself up, muscles still weighty with sleep, knotty with an excited energy that makes his movements clumsy at first. His nose bumps against the hollow of Dave’s throat, breathing in deep lungfuls of his sleep-warm scent, as his tongue draws patterns along his neck. Soft breaths fill his ears as his stubbled cheeks scrape across Dave’s chest, whiskers leaving a pleasant burn. Lower, mapping his body with four functioning senses, his mouth finds a nipple and he bites gently. Finds that fine line of pleasure and pain but Dave’s spine curls off the bed, with a rich rumbling in his chest, a pleasure soaked whine. The sound echoes in Tim’s ear, makes his cock pulse and spill against Dave’s thigh. Tim apologises, craning his head to capture Dave’s mouth, his tongue sliding inside to soothe the sting.  

As Tim makes his way down Dave’s body, the room is swimming in a drowsy haze. Sounds seem much louder, bodies more responsive in the predawn. The hitch in Dave’s breath when Tim’s tongue dips into his armpit, the static catching in the rustling sheets as Tim settles his weight between Dave’s parted legs.

“What happened in your dream?” Dave asks, interrupting Tim from licking along the dome of his bicep.   

“I told you. There was no… plot. It was just like this, in a room - a hotel room, probably. How it always is and my mouth was filled with your cock.”

“How do you know it was me?” 

“I like to think we know each other. In some ways, at least,” Tim mumbles into Dave’s thumping jugular. 

“It was a dream. Could have been anyone.” 

“Could have been, sure. But I’m telling you it wasn’t. The sounds you made were the same.” 

“I don’t make sounds,” Dave says flatly, struggling to keep cool as Tim sucks lazily at his collarbone.  

“York,” he smiles, nipping along his jawline. Dave shivers involuntarily, can’t cage it, when Tim sucks on his earlobe. “My turn to call bullshit. Don’t lie to me, please.” 

Dave gulps down a moan whole. Lets his ears fill instead with the smack of Tim’s lips as they press another open mouthed kiss into his stomach, the wet slither of his tongue as it snakes over his happy trail until it’s drenched. The scratch of fingers pulling fibres, bunching into the sheets when Tim inhales deep into the dark thatch of hair on his pubic bone, both of them groaning on the exhale. A flash of the whites of Tim’s eyes against the dark and Dave giving in, gasping when Tim’s mouth traces the apex of his thigh, so hot that he breaks out in goosebumps after another lap. Then he’s growling from the back of his throat, squirming as that heat covers one ball. Tim draws it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it with the perfect pressure until his head begins to swim.

“Fuck. Again,” Dave begs, mid breath. 

Tim does the same with the other, grinning as he does. His palms splay across Dave’s thighs, pinning him open as he licks and sucks. Above him, the outline of Dave’s cock bobs against his stomach, veiny and glistening at the tip. 

A starved noise escapes Tim as his hand slides upwards over tacky skin, soft muscle twitching. He can’t get enough, the urge to touch Dave everywhere is simmering to a boil beneath his skin.  

“Look at the mess you make,” Tim murmurs, dumbstruck at his thumb circling Dave’s cockhead, collecting the small pool of precum that’s gathered and trickled onto his stomach. The slick sound of it is drowned out by a desperate rush of air leaving Dave’s nose. “See? Look,” Tim lifts his hand to Dave’s mouth, the pad of his thumb pressing between Dave’s parted lips until it lands salty in the valley of his tongue. 

“Dream, my ass,” Dave grumbles, slurring around Tim’s thumb, “you’re just thinking back to a few hours ago - to before we slept.” 

“No. This is different. This is better.”

Hot breath ghosts over his cock and Dave forgets to argue for a moment. There’s something about mornings he prefers, before the sky lightens and his brain can’t work out if it’s yesterday’s fading cologne or today’s new skin that he smells first thing. He likes how close he has to get to Tim to even try. Clothes already out of the way, finally removed after hanging off shoulders to hold onto as one of them slid in and pooling around ankles only minutes after dinner ended, but now, Dave’s flesh already feels oversensitive, scorched the way Tim seems hellbent on pulling him apart. Fuck. His dick pumps out another bead of precum as Tim’s hands roam to roll his nipple between his thumb and forefinger, before he can think about taking a real breath - he needs him now. 

“Did you tease me this fuckin’ much in your dream, too?” 

Tim laughs, swallows down a mouthful of saliva and says, “Forgive me.”

Tim eases him in, dipping his tongue into Dave’s slit, feeling the slight jerk of his hips as he gets a taste. Dave reclines back into the sheets, eyes fixed onto Tim’s broad silhouette with a hooded gaze as his foreskin is pushed back by a set of plump lips, eyes rolling back into his head at wet heat. 

Dave’s fingers comb through his hair as Tim builds rhythm, steady unlike his breathing. Tim circles the head, flicking the tip of his tongue against his frenulum, making Dave’s thighs tense either side of his shoulders. He groans with relief when Tim drags his tongue from root to tip, soothes him with the firm pressure while his hand wraps around the base to pump him slowly. 

Tim can’t recall the details of the dream - it’s dissolved into nothing now. Meaningless. His mouth was full, sure, but this is much more vivid - he has control over what happens here. Lucid. Feels a surge of pride that he can make Dave whine when he opens wider, making him watch, glassy-eyed as another inch slides into his mouth. Power follows, staring up through wet lashes as he hollows out his cheeks, suckling at the underside as Dave’s composure decays. The little tugs at his scalp turn into a sweet sting only make him more dizzy with want.

Cockdrunk, his own dick throbs between his legs, neglected and painfully hard now. He rolls his hips, seeking some friction, against the sheets, Dave’s calf - anything. But he can’t focus long enough to get a decent rhythm, can’t tear himself away from the sight of Dave - writhing, veins bulging in his neck, tremors rippling across his abdomen, all from the wetness of his mouth. Knows that if he could see his eyes, pleasure would have turned them black. Just a little more - another swipe of his tongue to make him buck up into his mouth, to feel the heft of him on his tongue, let him brush against his soft palate. Tim stretches his jaw around the girth of him to make sure that this is reality - that Dave is splayed out in front of him and ready to come - then he can worry about himself.

“Did we fuck?” Dave breathes, chest heaving. “In your dream, did we fuck?” His voice cracks, desperate, as he tries again. 

Tim answers with his mouth full, humming a perfect “nuh-uh” sound around Dave’s length, the vibration rippling through his throat at the same time Dave’s cock hits the back of it. Tim feels his entire body shudder as he bobs up and down. Good, Dave thinks, clutching at his hand that rests on his stomach, wouldn’t last thirty seconds if we tried now.

“Where…” he pauses to take a deep breath, composing himself until another turn of Tim’s tongue sends him rambling. “Where’d I finish? Where’d I come?” 

Tim slips off his dick, allowing them both to think for a moment. 

“I don’t know - never made it that far before I woke up,” Tim says, holding Dave’s cock by the base, thumb idly stroking back and forth across the thick vein running up the underside where Dave’s pulse is hammering. “Where would you like to come?” 

Dave pushes his head back into the pillow at the sound of Tim’s voice - groggy and fucked out from his cock filling his mouth and stretching his throat. Makes his hair stand on end. Small puffs of air pour over his thigh where Tim lays his head, catching his breath. Dave peers down. Fuck. His lips, puffy from use, a hint of a satisfied smile pulling at the corners. He almost hates it - how he had never considered another man’s mouth to be typically pretty. Useful, but never pretty. 

There, he decides. He wants to ruin Tim’s mouth. Flood it until it spills over.  

No words needed. 

Dave’s palm finds the back of his head, guiding him down until eager lips seal around the spongy tip again closing with satisfied groan. Pressure builds fast at the base of his spine, a fiery heat as Tim deepthroats him easy. Can’t hold back whatever moans slip out through his jaw, slack now as Tim’s tongue is relentless, finding all of his sensitive spots all at once. His stomach clenches, flexing until he has to squeeze at Tim’s wrist as the pressure peaks and it’s the best kind of too much. 

“Fuck–y-yeah,” Dave grunts, pulsing into Tim’s mouth in warm spurts. He manages to tilt his head to watch as one milky drop trickles from the corner of his lips, dripping down onto Dave’s belly. He swallows then quickly cleans that up - one broad lap across his flesh as Dave’s whimpers die out. 

Both panting into the dark, Tim rises up on his knees, hovering over Dave’s spent body. Two gentle taps against Dave’s bottom lip with his index finger. Not a question. Dave is still riding a high, breathing still fucked up and aware that he’s operating on instinct - he wants what’s next and his jaw opens. Tim leans down, letting a pearly stream of Dave’s release slip from the tip of his tongue back into Dave’s mouth. Tim waits, hungry for it, for another sound he said he didn’t make. He gets it instantly, the mewl that slips out once it slides down his throat.  

Tim rests his head against Dave’s forehead.

“God, you fucking…” words fail him as soon as he starts speaking, almost delirious staring down at Dave’s mouth working. Tasting. Swallowing. “You like that so much,” he says in near disbelief, tracking another bob of his Adam’s apple. 

Beneath Tim’s wet eyed gaze, Dave stirs under his weight, puffing out his chest with a deep inhale to steel himself. Without warning, he wraps his fist around Tim’s cock as Tim tries his best to keep holding himself up. 

“Don’t you?” 

Tim's thighs tremble at the firm grip, at the slight twist in his wrist on the upstroke. He’s close, he’s been close but heat curls up fast in his groin. There’s a smirk creeping into Dave’s voice, he can hear it, and it sounds even more dangerous in the dark. 

“Fuck. Yeah. I do. Too much, maybe,” Tim admits, stumbling from word to word as his eyelids turn so heavy with lust that he drops his head, burying it in the crook of Dave’s neck. 

“Poor detective. Must be so hard, waking up early just to stuff your mouth,” Dave whispers faux sympathy in his ear, still swirling his thumb around Tim’s leaking tip. “To choke on my cock.”

Fuck. The words and movement turn his mouth dry and draw his balls impossibly tight, his chest firing out a choked sob behind a grunt. He grits his teeth against Dave’s skin as his orgasm rocks through his body, erupting in hot bursts over Dave’s chest. Dave hums, content as each rope lands warm on his skin. The tiny broken whines coming from Tim’s mouth pair so well with his own come down. Smirks to himself a little then as Tim’s still fucks up into his fist, not wanting to stop even though his muscles are starting to jump under his skin, overstimulated with greed. 

Tim folds eventually, curling into Dave’s side, looselimbed. 

“Five minutes,” Tim mumbles into Dave’s shoulder, tasting his salt damp skin with every word. “Just five and I’ll…” he trails off into a yawn that makes his jaw crack, “get something to clean us up.” 

“Should sleep while we can,” Dave says, already pulling the sheet up over their bodies, over the streaks on his chest. 

Tim’s eyebrows knit together - clean up was routine, a cool remedy for hot skin and soothing marks before they bloomed to full spectrums of crimson and purples. “Yeah?”

A drowsy “mmhmm” is all Dave can manage. 

“Oh, hey,” Tim nudges Dave’s leg with his knee. “Sweet dreams.” 

Light wells in the dimple in Dave’s cheek and Tim catches a flash before he turns away.

“Shut up,” Dave tells him, face pressed into his pillow to mask a grin.