(no subject)

[extendedmetaphor]

Or, perhaps, somewhere, they did go for that drink.

There was a lot that Irwin was still trying to adjust to. The weather, for a start. The lack of palpable history is disconcerting. He's refusing to address the dinosaurs.
And then there's Dakin. Of course, there's Dakin. Inevitably. Irwin might have been the only one who was actually surprised.

They skirted around it for a few weeks but, in the end, it just felt inevitable. That he'd find himself waiting for Dakin with a drink in front of him.
It was just a drink. And everything would be fine.

Comments

[thesubjunctive]

"I thought about you doing it in right there in the classroom." Dakin resisted the urge to rock his hips forward into Irwin's fingers, but only just, desire for more showing clear. "No one else in, just you at your desk until I walk in. No talking. You just drop down and suck me off in the middle of the floor."

[extendedmetaphor]

"That's good," said Irwin, nodding, lowering his head again to brush his lips against Dakin's cock, light kisses against hot skin. Calculated teasing. "Not necessarily original, but good."

[thesubjunctive]

"Original?" Dakin frowned, taking a moment to try to compose himself before answering. It was getting difficult to concentrate on something like talking with Irwin doing that. He was so close. So close, but still holding himself back. "It's a wank, not poetry. How original do you... do you need?"

[extendedmetaphor]

He hadn't even got his mouth down over Dakin yet and he could already tell that he was doing something right.

"Nothing," he said, licking at Dakin's cock again and, God, fighting to keep from letting Dakin know how good it was. "I suppose I just forgot how young you are."

[thesubjunctive]

"What's that got to do with it?" Irwin had to know how he looked, how those little teasings of the main event were getting to him. Dakin bet he was enjoying it too.

"Fuck." He had a hand on the back of Irwin's neck again, wishing he could just press him into action, but making no move to do so. "Would you just get on with it already?"

[extendedmetaphor]

"Just not a lot to call on but the obvious."

Dakin's increasing frustration was obvious but his cock was rock hard in Irwin's hand. God, he intended to enjoy this as much as possible. But there'd be time for that, afterwards. He lifted his head, smiling at Dakin before he slid his mouth down over the first inch of his cock.

[thesubjunctive]

"Yes," Dakin breathed, sounding equal parts relieved and triumphant. Just the sight of Irwin like that with his cock finally in his mouth was amazing, and it had barely just begun. It was only going to get better.

[extendedmetaphor]

No more teasing, not right then. Not now. He took Dakin's cock as deep and as smooth as he could manage it. His hands were on Dakin's hips, thumbs smoothing against warm skin, not holding him down, though.

[thesubjunctive]

In that moment Dakin was more pleased with himself than he had been in a very long while. He managed to behave himself, not pushing for more despite wanting to so badly. He did his best to encourage with words though, having noticed that Irwin seemed to like that a lot.

[extendedmetaphor]

Dakin's mouth was deeply amusing to him - the things that came out of it. A mark of youth, the rambling, the filth, and inexplicably, somehow wonderful.

Irwin's hand stroked along Dakin's thigh, his mouth having found a rhythm now, strong and fast. He had no real intention of lingering.

[thesubjunctive]

"Christ, you're good at this." The fingers of one hand tightened their grip on the short hairs at the back of Irwin's head while Dakin's other hand clenched fiercely at the blanket. "I bet you've wanted to do this for ages, haven't you?" he said, hips shifting forwards. He watched it all with an intent expression, the movement of Irwin's head, the way his lips stretched over his cock... It was better than anything he had imagined. "You were thinking about it in class even. I was."

[extendedmetaphor]

What he couldn't tell Dakin thanks to his mouth being occupied was that he was good at this because of practise, pure and simple - it wasn't some God given gift.

He did moan, though. Because Dakin wasn't wrong.

[thesubjunctive]

That seemed to have struck the right nerve and Dakin continued, even as it was rapidly becoming more and more difficult to speak with any level of composure. "I knew it. Sitting there, wishing you'd shut up and do something else with your mouth and you were thinking the same thing," he said inbetween gasps and groans because the other man really was very good.

[extendedmetaphor]

Not exactly the same thing. Not always. There had been a hundred lurid fantasies, and he'd always felt guilty when Posner had accidentally caught his eye.

He did moan again, though, the sound muffled by the press of Dakin's cock against his tongue.

[thesubjunctive]

"Fuck," he groaned, pressing his eyes tightly closed for a moment. It wasn't going to be much longer, not at this rate. Irwin must have known it by then. "So fucking close."

[extendedmetaphor]

Irwin knew it, wanted it, craved it by this point. He'd given up wondering if it made him wicked. Fuck wicked. Dakin was beautiful and, for now, that was all he cared about.

His fingers dug into Dakin's thigh - as much urging as he could manage, right then.

[thesubjunctive]

The fact that Irwin didn't stop or pull back, but instead kept going, urging him on, was almost enough to send him over the edge right then and there. Instead he held out just a few moments longer before coming with a muffled string of swearing.

[extendedmetaphor]

He knew that there were schools of thoughts on this - whether to see it through or tactically retreat, as it were - but he had never had any problem with standing his ground. Dakin came in his mouth and he swallowed, smooth and practiced, every drop, and he kept sucking until Dakin started to soften in his mouth.

[thesubjunctive]

It was a while before Dakin spoke again, laughing shakily and combing a hand back through his hair. "I always knew this was a good idea."

So that was it. He'd finally made it to Berlin.

[extendedmetaphor]

Still on his knees, Irwin sat back, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. His own cock was aching but he could ignore it, for a moment.

"That it, then?" he asked. "Do you think less of me, I wonder?"

[thesubjunctive]

"No," Dakin said, shaking his head with a smile. He still looked smug once more, completely satisfied as he sat there, half naked and comfortable on another man's bed. "I'm impressed."

[extendedmetaphor]

God, that look. That face. Irwin had the sudden, powerful urge to keep going until Dakin's got another look entirely on his face. He leaned up, one hand curling around the back of Dakin's neck, pulling him down for a long, thorough kiss.

"I'm free all evening, if you're not doing anything," he murmured, words brushing against Dakin's mouth.

[thesubjunctive]

"I don't know. I've got such a busy schedule these days..." Dakin pulled back slightly, appearing to think it over, but still smiling, teasing. "But I think I may be able to squeeze some more time in."

[extendedmetaphor]

"God. That look on your face," he said, leaning up, chasing after another kiss. It was intensely distracting that Dakin wasn't quite naked, just nearly so. "You make me want to do filthy things."

[thesubjunctive]

"What sort of things?" Dakin asked, his face still close to Irwin's even though the kiss had ended. Still smug. Still satisfied. He rather liked being above the older man like that.