Fic: All the Old Familiar Places (Darren/Daniel RPS)
Title: In All the Old Familiar Places (is not an appropriate title)
By: Amproof
Rating: Adult
Pairing: Darren Hayes/Daniel Jones, Darren/Richard (the hubby)
Rating: Adult
Warnings: BDSM
Words: 736
Disclaimer: This is RPS. It's fiction. If it did happen, I don't know about it.
Summary: A note under a hotel door. A reunion, 10 years too late.
Notes: This is the result of staying up until 3am watching Darren Hayes videos-facing up to the fact that D/D are my first and ultimate OTP (no matter what they think themselves.)
"Did you miss me?"
Darren nods. He is already naked, on his knees, waiting since the scrap of paper was slipped under his hotel room door.
Two words: I'm coming.
No name, no time. But he had known. And he had undressed, folded his jeans and shirt and put them away. Then he had knelt, facing away from the door because he knew that Daniel liked to see his back, see how his ass rested on his heels, keeping it just above the carpet.
It had taken all the willpower he had not to turn around when he heard the door open. He dug his fingernails into his knees. The soft sound of shoes being removed, and he was rewarded with long fingers on his back, tracing down his spine. A warm mouth on the back of his neck.
He wanted to turn and grab him, force him to stay still so he could look at him. Really look, for the first time in almost ten years. But he knew if he did, Daniel would leave. He never liked feeling needed.
A tap on his shoulder and Darren automatically lets his head drop to the carpet. Daniel slides his hands over his back, fingers splayed, they follow his spine all the way down around the curve of his ass. He rests them there, briefly, letting their heat soak into him. Darren bites back a whimper.
"Do you want me to strap you?"
It's not a threat but a promise, and Darren nods, his forehead brushing the carpet.
"I need you to say it."
He'd always liked words, even though he wasn't good with them.
"Please strap me," Darren says.
"O.K." A belt sliding from its loops, worn leather rubbing worn leather as it is folded in half. A finger on his bottom silently indicating that he should raise himself up. He does, his cock heavy and weeping. A hand on his back, not to hold him, but to reassure. He exhales when the first blow falls. Exactly center, its heat blossoms over him. The second falls above it; the third below. He lifts himself higher, silently begging. Daniel grips his cock and slowly, firmly, jerks him. Darren bucks into his hand on the fourth, fifth, and sixth. He erupts on the seventh, in semen and tears.
He hears the belt being tossed aside. Daniel lies on top of him, his chest pressed to Darren's back. He pushes back Darren's hair. Thumbs travel down his cheeks and wipe his tears away.
"Who do you belong to?" Daniel says.
"You. Only you." He doesn't have to think about it. He is grateful to have a question he doesn't have to think about.
"Yes," Daniel says. Daniel slides off him. Darren whimpers, but only for a moment. Daniel has pressed into him and soon Darren is whimpering in another way. It doesn't take long for Daniel to cum, which he does without pulling out and without a condom. He wipes his cock on the crevice of Darren's ass. He hugs him from behind, just as Darren used to do when they were onstage.
"I love you," Daniel says.
Darren presses his head back to the carpet and nods. He waits as Daniel gathers his things and leaves. Then he slowly stands. In the mirror, he sees a stranger. Someone with red-rimmed eyes and a carpet pattern pressed into his face. He hobbles into the bathroom to turn back into himself again.
He is coming out of the shower when Richard gets in. His husband looks at him. Darren scrubs the towel over his head, obscuring his view for a moment. Richard is still standing there when the towel comes down, like he doesn't know what to do. He's staring at the welts on Darren's bottom.
"Just say it," Darren says.
"Was it, um, was it what you wanted?"
"Yes. Thank you." He reaches for his shorts, pulls them on. He's going for his t-shirt, too, when Richard snaps out of his awkward, stammering stupor and stops his arm. Darren looks at him, blinks.
"You know Darren, I don't know why you won't ever let me look you in the face when we do this game. I mean, you're always so big on eye contact."
Darren leans over and kisses him. That's all the answer he'll get. "Come to bed." He takes Richard's hand and pulls him towards it, t-shirt forgotten.
By: Amproof
Rating: Adult
Pairing: Darren Hayes/Daniel Jones, Darren/Richard (the hubby)
Rating: Adult
Warnings: BDSM
Words: 736
Disclaimer: This is RPS. It's fiction. If it did happen, I don't know about it.
Summary: A note under a hotel door. A reunion, 10 years too late.
Notes: This is the result of staying up until 3am watching Darren Hayes videos-facing up to the fact that D/D are my first and ultimate OTP (no matter what they think themselves.)
"Did you miss me?"
Darren nods. He is already naked, on his knees, waiting since the scrap of paper was slipped under his hotel room door.
Two words: I'm coming.
No name, no time. But he had known. And he had undressed, folded his jeans and shirt and put them away. Then he had knelt, facing away from the door because he knew that Daniel liked to see his back, see how his ass rested on his heels, keeping it just above the carpet.
It had taken all the willpower he had not to turn around when he heard the door open. He dug his fingernails into his knees. The soft sound of shoes being removed, and he was rewarded with long fingers on his back, tracing down his spine. A warm mouth on the back of his neck.
He wanted to turn and grab him, force him to stay still so he could look at him. Really look, for the first time in almost ten years. But he knew if he did, Daniel would leave. He never liked feeling needed.
A tap on his shoulder and Darren automatically lets his head drop to the carpet. Daniel slides his hands over his back, fingers splayed, they follow his spine all the way down around the curve of his ass. He rests them there, briefly, letting their heat soak into him. Darren bites back a whimper.
"Do you want me to strap you?"
It's not a threat but a promise, and Darren nods, his forehead brushing the carpet.
"I need you to say it."
He'd always liked words, even though he wasn't good with them.
"Please strap me," Darren says.
"O.K." A belt sliding from its loops, worn leather rubbing worn leather as it is folded in half. A finger on his bottom silently indicating that he should raise himself up. He does, his cock heavy and weeping. A hand on his back, not to hold him, but to reassure. He exhales when the first blow falls. Exactly center, its heat blossoms over him. The second falls above it; the third below. He lifts himself higher, silently begging. Daniel grips his cock and slowly, firmly, jerks him. Darren bucks into his hand on the fourth, fifth, and sixth. He erupts on the seventh, in semen and tears.
He hears the belt being tossed aside. Daniel lies on top of him, his chest pressed to Darren's back. He pushes back Darren's hair. Thumbs travel down his cheeks and wipe his tears away.
"Who do you belong to?" Daniel says.
"You. Only you." He doesn't have to think about it. He is grateful to have a question he doesn't have to think about.
"Yes," Daniel says. Daniel slides off him. Darren whimpers, but only for a moment. Daniel has pressed into him and soon Darren is whimpering in another way. It doesn't take long for Daniel to cum, which he does without pulling out and without a condom. He wipes his cock on the crevice of Darren's ass. He hugs him from behind, just as Darren used to do when they were onstage.
"I love you," Daniel says.
Darren presses his head back to the carpet and nods. He waits as Daniel gathers his things and leaves. Then he slowly stands. In the mirror, he sees a stranger. Someone with red-rimmed eyes and a carpet pattern pressed into his face. He hobbles into the bathroom to turn back into himself again.
He is coming out of the shower when Richard gets in. His husband looks at him. Darren scrubs the towel over his head, obscuring his view for a moment. Richard is still standing there when the towel comes down, like he doesn't know what to do. He's staring at the welts on Darren's bottom.
"Just say it," Darren says.
"Was it, um, was it what you wanted?"
"Yes. Thank you." He reaches for his shorts, pulls them on. He's going for his t-shirt, too, when Richard snaps out of his awkward, stammering stupor and stops his arm. Darren looks at him, blinks.
"You know Darren, I don't know why you won't ever let me look you in the face when we do this game. I mean, you're always so big on eye contact."
Darren leans over and kisses him. That's all the answer he'll get. "Come to bed." He takes Richard's hand and pulls him towards it, t-shirt forgotten.