Work Text
Two Men in Search of a Bed –
He was going to kill Matt. Maybe by fucking him to death. Any jury would find it justifiable homicide. At least any jury full of old guys who were into fucking man-boys. John grumbled to himself and gazed unseeing at the police report he was writing. He hadn’t meant to make it a challenge when he’d said that next time he and Matt had sex it was going to be in a bed. Matt, in his smart and smart-ass way, had taken it as a challenge, though, and for the last week had been trying to get John to have sex anywhere but a bedroom, all while refusing to go into a bedroom. Yeah, John could pick Matt up and carry him into a bedroom, nothing the little brat could do about it, but John was too stubborn. And insane, apparently. He could see the headlines now – Cop Molests Teenager in Yankee Stadium Janitor Closet. Okay, Matt was twenty-five but it still felt like cradle-robbing. Though the molesting was definitely mutual. It had been Matt’s insistence on giving him a blowjob that had gotten them into the janitor closet to start with. Does that make Matt a grave-robber? Some shrink would have a field day with this … this … whatever the fuck the relationship was. John rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on the police report. It was impossible. For the last week, he and Matt had gone to restaurants, another ball game, both his apartment and Matt’s. Their conversation at the baseball game had felt like live phone porn. Matt had taken to drinking a bottle of beer like he was giving it a blowjob, and since John knew exactly how talented that mouth was, it pained him to watch. But beyond some heavy kissing, they hadn’t done anything, and John was remembering what it was like to be a teenager and have a boner all the time. With Matt doing everything he could think of to provoke John into jumping him wherever they were, who needed Viagra? Tossing the report aside, John gave up. He was going to end this tonight. Couldn’t he and the kid just talk like adults and agree that this competition thing was stupid? That John really was an old man and deserved some softness as he hard-fucked his annoying lover? An hour later, John was unlocking the door to his apartment. He smiled as his saw Matt’s jacket and bag flung across the couch. As he set his keys and coat down, John could hear Matt humming, slightly off-key as usual, and the sizzle of something on the stove. Maybe Matt was cooking up a peace offering. John would be gracious and calm and they’d talk. He could see through the doorway into the kitchen that Matt had already set the table with John’s crappy plates and silverware. There was even an unlit candle – a wax figure of a fat policeman eating a donut that someone had given him as a joke. John walked into the kitchen and all of his good intentions vanished in a puff of smoke. Matt was indeed cooking, grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches, but was dressed only in an apron. As in, naked except an apron. Matt was wearing a red-checkered ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron that Lucy had gotten John as a not-at-all subtle reminder that John’s doctor wanted him to do more cooking and less take-out. Matt must have found it at the bottom of some drawer, along with that gag candle. John would have to harass him about snooping through his stuff. At least John kept his gun well locked up. Unless Matt had unknown lock-picking skills. These random thoughts skimmed across the surface of John’s mind as a sort of covering gunfire while his body roared to life. Matt’s smooth skin, the curve of his ass… John had a lovely side view and he could see that Matt was also anticipating some peace-making – the front of his apron was tented by an obvious hard-on. Matt’s young face was flushed, like it had been just after giving John the best blowjob he’d ever gotten. John must have made some sort of sound because Matt turned towards him. “McClane!” Matt grumbled. “You’re early.” He flipped a cheese sandwich over, the drips sizzling on the pan. “I was planning on making supper and offering myself as, you know, dessert.” As Matt wielded the spatula, he turned away and John saw something between Matt’s asscheeks, something purple. Whatever John was going to say evaporated. He demanded, “What’s that?” “Oh,” Matt said with a smile, turning to look over his own shoulder. “It’s an anal plug, butt plug. I know purple is a little showy, but it’s a nice synthetic rubber that feels—” “What is it?” John snapped. “It stretches me,” Matt said, still smiling and shifting his ass. “It’s flared at the base so it stops at just the right point for this ridge to stimulate my prostate, making me—” “Out,” John growled. “Take it out.” Matt looked up at him, blinking. “Wha?” A wave of anger or lust or something swept over John, making him tremble with adrenaline. With two steps, he was across the kitchen and grabbing the back of Matt’s hair. Matt dropped the spatula and pulled at John’s fist in his hair. “Shit, what the fuck?” John turned off the stove, ignoring Matt’s flailing. He yanked Matt backwards, then spun him around until they were both facing the table. With his free hand, John swept the table clear, dishes and silverware crashing to the floor, the candle sent flying. He pushed Matt face down on the table, spread Matt’s legs, and took a grip on the butt plug. He had enough presence of mind to pull it out slowly, but as soon as it was out, he flung it hard across the room. Matt’s asshole was slick, warm, waiting. John clawed at his zipper and yanked it down, then shoved his pants and underwear to his thighs. Matt was still lying chest-down on the table, his legs spread even wider. John could see his chest heaving up and down and his splayed-out hands white-knuckled in their press against the table surface. John took hold of Matt’s hips and Matt gave one of his needy, desperate whimpers that did such things to John’s libido. He lined his stiff cock up then … Damn, damn …He paused, breathing hard. He gritted his teeth, holding onto the shreds of his control. “Are you clean?” Matt craned his head around, his eyes barely focusing. “Uh, yeah, sure.” John grunted in acknowledgement then resumed his trajectory. He put the bare head of his aching cock against the well-stretched and ready asshole and pushed. Quickly he buried himself inside that hot strange tunnel. It felt even more incredible with skin directly against skin. He didn’t pause to let Matt adjust but pulled almost out and shoved in again. He gripped Matt’s hips and drove all his power straight into Matt’s body. “Is it the right shape for you?” John growled. “No ‘ridges’ or ‘flared base’.” Matt’s only response was a helpless moan. “Better to have than some plastic dick?” Matt moaned again, but John wanted more. “Say it, Farrell. Say it.” “Oh God,” Matt whimpered. “Better, it’s better, don’t stop.” John had no plans to stop, but it was good to hear it from Matt. He happily settled to his task. After the week’s worth of anticipation, John wasn’t about to let it get over too quick. He tried to distract himself with thinking about work. That warehouse on 21st, something odd about that robbery. Track down the landlord. Tight fuck damn Go over procedure with Robinson, he’s going to get us— Yeah there right The captain wants us to do more with less, and he certainly gave us less— Matt squeeze skin Assault on Thursday, check for patterns in— Moan sweet God how Tomorrow’s shift is— C’mon yes… John could feel that Matt was close to coming by his breathing and the trembling in his legs. Was it possible to make a man come just by fucking him? John forgot about work, forgot about anything but making Matt’s moans rise to a fever pitch, his own body shouting silently along with him. Matt gave a cry and his body bucked underneath John. John held on while Matt thrashed and swore, then the sharp smell of cum filled the air and John was thrusting his way home. He unloaded into Matt, into his body with no barriers. It was hot and incredible and even better than the first time. Sweaty and panting, John put his hands on the table and struggled to find his balance. If God didn’t want men to fuck, John thought dazedly. He wouldn’t have made it feel so damn good. Slowly, John lowered them both to the floor, Matt sitting in John’s lap, John with his forehead against Matt’s bare right shoulder. After a moment, Matt stirred. “Don’t get me wrong,” he mumbled. “That was, that was just incredibly amazing, like better than the best fantasy I’ve ever had about you. But … what the hell?” John pulled away from Matt, suddenly embarrassed. He tried for a casual shrug. “Just because you wouldn’t go into a bedroom with me, you don’t need to go fucking yourself with a fake dick.” “A what?” asked Matt with a snort. “The plug thing.” John waved in the general direction he’d thrown it. “It’s not …” Matt’s eyes widened and a grin lit up his face. “John McClane, you’re jealous!” “I don’t want a fake dick toy.” “No, that’s ‘envious’. A guy is envious of his friend’s Xbox. A guy is jealous if he thinks his friend is always using his Xbox. It’s not that you want something he else has, you think he is taking something that is yours.” John eyed him, not liking where this was going. Especially since Matt looked gleeful. “A butt plug,” Matt drawled, “is used to prep an ass for penetration. I was stretching myself for you, so there wouldn’t need to be any preliminaries. But you thought I was trying to use a toy instead of you, invading an area you consider to be your domain. Feeling a bit possessive of my body, McClane?” “Uh…” “It’s kinda nice. Unexpected, but nice.” “Kinda nice,” John echoed, unsure what he felt about that phrase. “Now that we’ve got that settled,” Matt said and his smile vanished. “That wasn’t what I was asking about. What the hell were you thinking?” “Thinking?” “Fucking me bareback! I could have AIDS, herpes and the Black Plague!” “But you said—” “You were about to shove your cock up my ass and give me what I’ve been dying for. I’d have said I was the Queen of Mars at that moment.” Matt shook his head. “God, you’re like a babe in the woods.” John frowned. “Hey, I know my way around—” “Gay culture? Anal sex? Non-monogamy? Sex partner who might have slept with a hundred people before you? Stop me when there’s something you’re familiar with.” John glared at him. “I get mine.” “No,” Matt said, almost gently, “You don’t. I’d bet a hundred cases—a thousand cases of Red Bull that John McClane was a faithful husband for the whole of his marriage, even when you were separated.” The fact that it was the truth didn’t make John feel any better about it. He was an old man who was totally inexperienced and gullible. He pushed Matt away and stood up.
“John, hey,” Matt said. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s very honorable. Very old-fashioned. Uh, in a good way, I mean.” John didn’t look at him as he zipped up his pants and tucked in his shirt. Matt held up his hands. “Look, I’m just saying that you need to be more careful.” John frowned. “Hey, you’re the one who swallowed my load at Yankee stadium.” “Yeah,” Matt said. “But I know I can trust you. Besides, no STD would dare infect John McClane.” John glared at him. “It’s not hero-worship,” Matt protested. “It’s just a fact. But you have to be more careful.” “Do I?” John asked. “But you’re the only one I’m interested in fucking.” Matt opened his mouth and shut it again. His expressive face showed that he was not saying something very loudly. John said nothing back. It hung in the air between them, that unspoken something. John’s possessiveness of Matt. Matt’s faith in and odd protectiveness of him. The silence quickly became strained. “Hey, I could use a beer,” Matt said brightly. “How about you? Got any light beer? If you do, I don’t want it. Do you know what kind of processes they use to make it ‘light’? I can’t see you having light beer anyway. No microbrews, I bet. Just Bud. Or are you a Busch man?” John gave him a wry smile. He had no desire to talk about ‘it’ either. That would be way too ‘gay’. “Bud.” Matt got to his feet. “Got to work on your taste in beer. But I’ll get us some Buds, even if I did win in getting you to skip the bed.” John rolled his eyes. Matt was looking far too pleased with himself about that win. John grumbled, “You’re the one that made this a competition.” “That sounds like a sore loser. Though …” Matt rubbed his ass as he walked. “I might be the sore one. But still,” he said over his shoulder. “Winner here.” “Well, since you’re the big winner,” John said with deliberate casualness. “Next time, you can fuck me.” Matt walked smack into the refrigerator door.