(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]

Dakin most certainly did and he began doing his best to prove it. He used all the little things that he knew he liked, figuring that if they worked for it would do it for Irwin as well. And if it was a bit fast, a bit rushed in his enthusiasm to keep things moving to the point where his own needs could be seen to again, who could blame him? He was already half hard again.

[extendedmetaphor]

It was rushed and sloppy but that didn't stop it from feeling very good. Dakin was just showing his age, no sense of making a thing last but Irwin didn't care. He pressed his forehead against Dakin's skin, squirmed and rocked into his fist.

"That's good," he murmured, urging him on.

[thesubjunctive]

Of course it was good. It was him doing it, wasn't it? Dakin kept going, trying his best to make it good, to make it memorable. It was still a bit fast though.

[extendedmetaphor]

It was far from the most skillful handjob that Irwin had ever received but there was something to be said for it being Dakin's hand.

His breath fame out in a gasp against Dakin's skin.

[thesubjunctive]

"Come on, then," Dakin urged, not speeding his pace up anymore, but impatience was definitely beginning to show through. "Come on, sir." He realized belatedly that he really didn't have anything good to call him at that moment. Irwin didn't really seem to cut it.

[extendedmetaphor]

He was absolutely not about to admit it but it was the 'Sir' that did it; the way that Dakin said it and the tone of his voice. He bit the smooth skin under his shoulder as he came, shooting over Dakin's fingers, over both their bellies.

[thesubjunctive]

Dakin gasped as he came, more as a reaction to the bite than any real sense of shock. It was definitely different from getting a woman to come, easier for one thing, messier too. Irwin still hadn't said his name though, which was a little disappointing.

"Was that what you were hoping for?"

[extendedmetaphor]

"Well, I mean, I came, so..." He grinned, leaning down to brush a kiss against Dakin's mouth. "Technique could use some work."

[thesubjunctive]

"Technique could use some work?"

Dakin frowned, pulling back from the kiss. It had been a wank, not another essay. It hadn't been given to be critiqued. It had been given so that he could hear how amazing he was, to give pleasure and get appreciation and approval in return. "Is that seriously what you say right after that sort of thing? Technique could use work?"

[extendedmetaphor]

To his credit, Irwin managed not to smile. He shifts on the bed next to him, one hand against Dakin's belly.

"You'd rather I lied to you? Far as I remember, you took exception last time you figured out that I'd lied to you about something."

[thesubjunctive]

Dakin turned his head to look at him, still angry. What had he done wrong? "It was a sodding wank. What about it needed work? It's not like I don't have experience."

[extendedmetaphor]

Irwin is well aware of how little Dakin liked to be critiqued and, admittedly, it was a mis-step. He shouldn't have said anything, clearly.

"Yes, but I doubt it's ever involved anyone else in exactly that fashion," he said, fingers grazing over Dakin's cock, just a brush of fingertips. "And you got me off. I came all over both of us."

[thesubjunctive]

The older man's earlier words were still there, echoing in his head. He needed work. It wasn't good enough. Well, he'd just have to do better next time and prove Irwin wrong. He could. He'd get his chance sooner or later.

"What are you going to do about that, then?" he asked, still frowning, nodding towards his own cock.

[extendedmetaphor]

"You could let me carry out that fantasy," he says, fingers grazing Dakin's cock. "Every dirty little thing I've thought about doing to you."

[thesubjunctive]

"Every single one?" Dakin asked somewhat incredulously. Last he'd heard there was quite a list. That didn't mean they couldn't get started on it though.

He looked curiously at Irwin's face. "If I say yes will you finally take them off?" He ran a finger over the rim of his glasses. If what they'd already done apparently hadn't necessitated taking them off he wanted to know what would.

[extendedmetaphor]

"Do you want me to?" he asked and then he did, tugged them off and leaned across Dakin's chest to drop them on the bedside chest. He stroked Dakin's cock lightly then dropped his hand lower, cupping his balls and squeezing.

"Tell me you want it."
Part of it is that he wanted to keep checking that he wasn't overstepping some line but part of it? Was that he just liked hearing Dakin say it.

[thesubjunctive]

Dakin smiled at the touch, already pressing towards Irwin. Part of him was still a bit sulky about what had been said earlier, but a larger part already wanted to move on. To get another chance to prove himself. "Yes. I want it."

[extendedmetaphor]

"You want what?" prompted Irwin, still fondling, squeezing gently, mouth against Dakin's skin. "Come on. I want to hear it."

[thesubjunctive]

"I want all those things you've thought about." He squirmed a little, trying to press closer, wanting something more than what he was getting. "Christ, I don't even know what most of them are and I really don't care. I fucking want it all."

[extendedmetaphor]

He thought about it for a moment, sucking lightly on Dakin's skin before he took his hand away from him altogether.

"You've got a filthy mouth, you know that?" he said, mildly. "Roll over."

[thesubjunctive]

Dakin grinned, only rolling onto his side for now, an arm resting comfortably on his hip, looking as if he wouldn't be out of place on a couch at a very particular sort of Roman dinner party. "I know you like it, don't you?"

[extendedmetaphor]

"I do," he admitted, glancing down before he looks up again, grinning. "I like hearing you talk like that." His hand slid over Dakin's hip and he swatted at his backside, lightly.

"All the way over. Come on, Dakin. Do as you're asked."

[thesubjunctive]

"I've never been very good at that," he said, even though his actions somewhat disagreed with that statement, rolling over just as directed. All the while he kept that damn smile, trying to make sure that his new position still showed him off to his best advantage.

[extendedmetaphor]

Irwin did notice the contradiction. He slid his hand over the curve of Dakin's arse, a relatively chaste, reverent sort of touch.

"Spread your legs," he said. There was a part of him that was fascinated by just how pliant Dakin could be.

[thesubjunctive]

Dakin did, suddenly feeling rather overexposed, but pressing on regardless. It was a position he'd definitely never been in before and there it came again, that little anticipatory thrill of the unknown.