(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]

It did not happen that often, but Dakin was uncertain. This was a situation where he didn't know exactly what was coming next, a situation where he wasn't sure how to take control, a reversal of everything he was used to.

He hesitated a moment, then nodded. Forward was the only way to go. "Yes. I do."

[extendedmetaphor]

That admission, the entire shift in Dakin's demeanor is dizzying. Irwin leaned across him again, rummaging in the drawer until he came up with what he was looking for: one small glass bottle. He uncorked it and poured a little into the palm of his hand, slicking his fingers before he dribbled a little more against Dakin's skin.

[thesubjunctive]

That was the thing. Nothing they had done hadfelt wrong or unpleasant yet, just strange. He strained his neck, twisting his head as far as he could over his shoulder in an effort to see everything that was going on. For once he was actually silent, waiting to see what came next.

[extendedmetaphor]

He followed the oil with his fingers, spreading it down the cleft of Dakin's arse, teasing with the tips of his fingers, pressing lightly with one.

"Even in my fantasies, I could never get you to be this quiet," he said, smiling, still rubbing, still teasing.

[thesubjunctive]

Dakin rolled his eyes. He wasn't sure he liked someone else being so smug while he was unsure. "Don't get too used to it." The anticipation bit was driving him crazy. "Are you always this slow about it?"

[extendedmetaphor]

"You'll thank me for going slow later," promised Irwin, refusing to be hurried about it and still taking his time. He pressed a little harder, enough to work the tip of one finger inside. "And you're the one who wanted to know what I was thinking about."

[thesubjunctive]

The finger was when things moved towards very strange. Dakin shifted a little, trying to get himself to adjust to the feeling. "I did," he admitted after a long pause. It was still strange, not bad, just extremely odd. "Do you always take this long to get anything started?"

[extendedmetaphor]

"Relax," he admonished, gently, his other hand in the small of Dakin's back to hold him steady as he continued to press his finger deeper.

"You wouldn't thank me if I hurried. Believe me."

[thesubjunctive]

"You don't know that," Dakin grumbled, but he stopped squirming, trying to lie still and relax. It was hard though, he wasn't used to being the one who wasn't in control and he almost didn't know what to do in the opposite role.

[extendedmetaphor]

"Put it down to experience," said Irwin. He kept pushing until his finger was pressed knuckle deep and then he started to pull it out, everything slippery enough that it was easy to find a quick, smooth rhythm.

"How does it feel, knowing nobody's done this to you before?" he asked. "Have you ever even done this to yourself?"

[thesubjunctive]

Dakin shook his head, still trying to get completely comfortable with the feeling. If this was all that the fuss was about he really didn't see the allure. He also really did not like being reminded that he was the one with less experience. "I had girlfriends. Do you really think I was ever that bored?"

[extendedmetaphor]

"It's got nothing to do with being bored," said Irwin, one hand still on Dakin's back to hold him as he eased another finger in alongside the first, angling his hand he was sure to graze along Dakin's prostate with the thrust of his fingers.

Waiting for the moment when he did.

[thesubjunctive]

When the moment did come Dakin was completely unprepared for it. "Fuck!" He gasped, fingers twisting in the blanket. "What did you fucking do?"

[extendedmetaphor]

For a moment, Irwin doesn't say anything at all, just keeping his hand at the same angle and grazing his fingers against the exactly same spot over and over again.

[thesubjunctive]

As long as he did so Dakin continued to keep up a steady stream of swearing which, if repetitive, made up for it in sheer abundance. His hand had slid down between his body and the mattress, trying to stroke himself at the same rhythm Irwin was using. He dimly noticed that he was pushing back against the fingers at the same time, trying to get more and probably looking like a complete fool, but he really did not care at the moment.

[extendedmetaphor]

The last thing that Dakin looked like was a fool; Irwin found himself completely captivated by the ride of his hips. He started to press a thing finger inside, conscious of making the going easier, later on.

"You're going to come too soon if you don't keep your hand off your cock," he said, making sure he kept hitting Dakin's prostate, not wanting the squirming to end.

[thesubjunctive]

Dakin drew his hand away reluctantly, rubbing himself against the bed in its absence. He wanted to get off, wanted it so badly, but not if Irwin would think it was too soon. This time he would show him that his technique did not need work. That he could do this perfectly.

"How... God." He moaned, clenching his fists to stop them from touching himself again. "What are you bloody doing?"

[extendedmetaphor]

It was undeniably beautiful, watching Dakin squirm and rock like that. Watching him come a little bit undone.

"It's your prostate," he explains, still working it, fucking Dakin deeply with his fingers. "Now you see why I wanted to know if you'd ever done this to yourself."

[thesubjunctive]

"Not exactly the sort of thing the sort of thing they mention in the usual literature, now is it?" Dakin said, his speech interspersed with frequent interruptions as he vocally showed just how much he was enjoying it. He rocked back harder, wanting everything he could get and more.

[extendedmetaphor]

"You're clearly reading the wrong sort of literature," said Irwin, a comment which he might live to regret but, for now, everything was perfect. "Get up on you knees," he said, punctuating with a particularly firm thrust of his fingers.

[thesubjunctive]

"Fuck.." Dakin made a sound suspiciously like a whimper at that, rising up until he was on his hands and knees. Already he felt more unsteady and out of control than he'd ever been during sex and it was new and different and good. He had never expected this from Irwin, but he didn't have one bit of regret over the turn things had taken.

[extendedmetaphor]

God, those sounds. Irwin leaned in, added more oil to his fingers and made sure that he was fucking Dakin good and deep. It might have been childish of him, but he had a really strong need to hear Dakin beg.

"You look fucking beautiful like that," he said, figuring that he could at least give Dakin that much.

[thesubjunctive]

Dakin gasped, barely registering the compliment in the midst of the sensations Irwin was providing. It was so good, so new, and he wanted more. He wanted to touch himself, to have Irwin touch him, something. Anything.

"More," he gasped, pushing back, trying to speed up the other man's pace. "Come on."

[extendedmetaphor]

"More what?" prompted Irwin, well on his way to being hard again and all of it based on the way that Dakin looks right then. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss against Dakin's smooth skin, sucking up a mark.

[thesubjunctive]

"Don't know." His back arched up as Irwin sucked a t his skin, tilting his head back with a groan. Desperate and giving on control, he reached down to touch himself once again, balancing with one hand. "Fuck. I just want more. More everything."