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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.

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From:

thesubjunctive

Dakin nodded. It was still a bit uncomfortable, still strange, even as he adjusted his mind and body to this very unexpected turn that his sex life had taken, but he wasn't going to tell Irwin that. If he was asking he must have had some idea.

"I'm fine."

From:

extendedmetaphor

"It'll get better," he promised, tugging Dakin's thigh higher against his hip, changing the angle slightly as he rocked his hips, thrusting shallowly.

His breath caught in a moan against Dakin's skin.

From:

thesubjunctive

As Irwin began to thrust, he began stroking himself again, having stopped when he had first entered him. It was perhaps an awkward time to think of it, but Dakin couldn't help wondering if this was what it had been like for all of the girls he had been with, at least in part. Vaguely uncomfortable and strange with the assurance that it would get better.

From:

extendedmetaphor

He craned his neck, watching Dakin stroke his cock, the ride of his cock inside him. It was all unbelievably arousing. He couldn't help but moan.

"Oh, fuck," he breathed, ducking his head to catch Dakin's mouth in a hard, hungry kiss.

From:

thesubjunctive

Dakin returned it eagerly, pressing himself up and closer to Irwin. Things were beginning to feel less uncomfortable now as it fell into a rhythm. He shifted his hips slightly, experimenting now and trying to get him to hit that same spot.

From:

extendedmetaphor

He angled his hips, trying to hit that same spot that had made Dakin twist that way before.

From:

thesubjunctive

It took a a while and a bit of subtle maneuvering, but eventually Dakin moaned into the kiss, his hand speeding up. He was close now, so fucking close that it was almost unbearable and he couldn't stand to wait any longer.

From:

extendedmetaphor

He wasn't going to last much longer himself - Dakin's body is so fucking tight and the friction of his fingers against Irwin's belly is a constant reminder than he was stroking his own cock.

It was all too much.

From:

thesubjunctive

Dakin came shortly after, crying out inarticulately, his mouth and free hand trying to get ahold of whatever parts of Irwin that they could, pressing down desperately. He'd had his fair share of orgasms over the years, but that one seemed to leave the others severely wanting.

From:

extendedmetaphor

How was he supposed to hold on in the face of that? Dakin was beautiful, but he was even more beautiful when he comes. He was breath-taking.

Irwin buried his face in Dakin's neck and kept moving. He knew he didn't have much more to give.

From:

thesubjunctive

"Fucking Christ," Dakin exhaled, out of breath, flushed, slick with sweat, but smiling and sated. He clutched at Irwin's back, urging him on as best he could.

From:

extendedmetaphor

It was messy, a sort of headlong rush, but he tumbled quickly, coming with a gasp muffled by the press of his mouth against Dakin's tan skin. Gradually, he became aware of things again, Dakin's body beneath him, the sticky mess against their skin, the heat of the room.

It was perfect. Every part of it.

From:

thesubjunctive

Dakin wasn't certain about perfect, but it was definitely something beyond the sort of post-sex experience he was used to, and not just because of the male body over and still in him (a fact that he still couldn't seem to entirely believe). Through all the unfamiliarity of the situation it felt good. It definitely felt worth it.

He continued to lie there for the time being, briefly running a hand through Irwin's hair, too satisfied and worn out to even consider any real movement. For once he didn't even feel the need to speak.

Edited Date: 2012-10-15 05:05 am (UTC)

From:

extendedmetaphor

It took longer than it probably ought to have done before he could move. He gasped as he pulled out of Dakin's body and then he sprawled along side him, one arm thrown somewhat possessively across him.

"Jesus," he said, finally, with feeling.

From:

thesubjunctive

Dakin turned his head to watch Irwin, liking the way his arm felt draped over him, liking the way he was still out of breath, liking the way that nearly everything felt. This was what the word debauched was meant to feel like and it was wonderful, ten times better than merely reading or fantasizing about it.

"Is that what it's always like?" The unspoken question was still apparent no matter how he might try not to let it show. What was I like? I was good enough, wasn't I?

From:

extendedmetaphor

"When you do it right, yes," said Irwin, nodding as he glances over at him, fingers stroking against Dakin's bare side. "If you're lucky."

From:

thesubjunctive

Dakin smiled a bit at that, lazy and smug. He was was lucky in this as in so many other things. It was always nice to hear it said aloud though.

"It was worth it, then, going for that drink?"

From:

extendedmetaphor

"Apparently." When he'd first shown up, he'd been in two minds whether to tell Dakin about that conversation at all; being moral and above it had seemed attractive. Still, with his palm pressed against Dakin's ribs, feeling his heartbeat, he was glad that he couldn't quite stand strong in the face of it.