backwards bent (david cook/neal tiemann) r
Title: Backwards Bent
Pairing: David Cook/Neal Tiemann
Rating: R
Wordcount: ~1400
Warning: mild D/s, language.
Summary: He likes it, oh screw it, he fucking loves it when Dave bends so easily for him, bends whichever way Neal fancies.
Disclaimer: David Cook, Neal Tiemann and et al. belong to themselves. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Thanks to sillyshy for beta'ing for me! Fic was inspired by this picture of David Cook. You can also read this fic over at AO3, if you prefer that!
backwards bent.
He glances down at the figure at his feet, admiring how the soft hair seems to curl at the end of the neck, making the white creamy skin stand out even more. He reaches out, his fingers idly touching the exposed skin and pushes at the back of the head to make the figure bend further forward. Dave. His Dave. Because Dave is his and has been since the first moment they met in Andy's garage six or so years ago.
Neal licks his lips, tongue running over two silver hoops in the process, as he takes in the submissive posture. He likes it, oh screw it, he fucking loves it when Dave bends so easily for him, bends whichever way Neal fancies.
"Kiss my shoes," he whispers heatedly, voice low and husky. Dave does not need to be told twice. He leans all the way down with his hands clasped together behind his back and opens his mouth, a tentative tongue darting out to lick the worn leather once, twice, thrice before pressing his lips gently against the shoe. Neal admires the way Dave seems to sit so comfortable in that position, and loves it even more as Dave's shirt rides up and shows a patch of skin and the top of his boxers from underneath his jeans.
"You like that?" he asks, though the question is futile, because he knows that Dave likes it. They both do; they both get hard from Neal telling Dave what to do and Dave from being told what to do. It's their thing, and Neal wouldn't change it for the world.
"Enough," he says, and pulls back his foot. Dave remains sitting like that, stomach resting on his knees, hands tightly wounded together behind the back and head one inch above the floor. He knows better than to move; knows better than to test Neal's patience.
Neal waits a couple of silent moments, ears straining to hear Dave's soft breathing. And then, when he feels that Dave has waited long enough, he gets down on one knee next to the bend over Dave.
"Mm, such a fucking good boy," he whispers, leaning over Dave to run his tongue against the nape of Dave's neck. He smirks as he feels Dave shivers under his touch, pleased with the reaction. His fingers run teasingly down Dave's back until he reaches that small exposed patch of skin that he has been unable to stop thinking about.
"Sit up," he demands, his fingers slowly slipping away from Dave's lower back as Dave sits up, their heads now only inches apart. Dave's eyes flutter closed and Neal cannot stop staring at the calm, trusting, and almost innocent look on Dave's face. His breath hitches in his throat, and for some reason he has to look away. They have done this many times before, and getting Dave to lick his shoes is nothing new, but the look on Dave's face is. Neal feels his heart skip a beat, and he swallows. When he finally looks back at Dave, Dave is staring at him, a small understanding smile gracing his lips. His lips twitch slowly, and before he knows it, he is returning the smile.
Dave leans closer to him, eyes darting from Neal's eyes and down to his lips and then back up again. Neal doesn't say anything, just waits for Dave to do as he wants, because this is not something he can demand Dave to do. Finally, Dave closes the distances between them and presses his lips against Neal's. And it feels fucking amazing, even more so because this was unprompted and completely innocent and… something entirely new. Neal feels as if something significant has just happened, as if this moment is what it all comes down to. As if this is how life should be.
Neal changes position, now sitting on both his knees as he deepens the kiss, hand reaching up to rest on Dave's neck. Pale, strong fingers are gripping tightly onto the strands of soft hair that he had admired just moments ago. "Fuck," he murmurs against Dave's lips, and Dave responds by opening his mouth and teeth closing around the right sliver hoop, softly tugging at it. Neal growls, and pushes their mouths closer together as his fingers curl in the brown hair.
They are both breathing heavily when Dave leans back again, eyes twinkling with amusement and lips red and swollen.
"Where do you want me Master?" asks Dave, grinning softly, which makes Neal groan in delight, his nostrils flaring as he tries to control his breathing. It takes him a second to collect his thoughts, to form a coherent sentence. He reaches up, hand curling around the back of Dave's neck, fingers longing to tease the soft strands of hair again but resists. Then, slowly, he starts to press Dave backwards, smirking as Dave has to spread his thighs to adjust to the position as Neal continues to lower him down, down, down.
When Dave is down in a perfect backwards bend (a position that Neal is quite fond of himself when playing the guitar) he releases Dave's head and leans back on his heels to take in the sight. Dave's shirt is now riding up in the front, showing a small trail of soft brown hair leading down into his jeans. Neal smirks, silver hoops glinting dully as a ray of light catches onto them.
"Stay like that," he demands, and leans down to press his lips against Dave's stomach, teeth nipping the pale skin teasingly, velvet tongue running over the trail of hair until he reaches the hem of the jeans. Dave's hips move, silently urging Neal to continue further down.
"Think you can handle staying in this position while I blow you?" he asks, one eyebrow arched perfectly as he waits for Dave's answer. Dave doesn't answer though, just swallows loudly and opens his mouth pleadingly, small incoherent sounds leaving his mouth. Neal grin softens for a split second before the smirk returns. Then slowly he unzips Dave's jeans and reaches with his left hand into Dave's boxers, fingers curling around Dave's length that hardens in his hand. His own cock is straining against his jeans, and he quickly unzips his own jeans with his right hand, groaning as his fingers come in contact with his own cock. It is difficult and kind of awkward, but by now Neal has become quite talented in multitasking, so it is with expertly strokes he starts to move his hands up and down.
Neal groans deeply, and with one final glance at Dave's face, he leans down, mouth opening as he licks the tip of Dave's cock. His tongue twirls around the head, hand holding onto the base as he presses his tongue against the tiny slit, pleased when a pearly drop of pre-come appears. He licks it up, moaning at the taste of Dave on his tongue. Dave groans and spreads his legs even further apart, and Neal looks to make sure that his boy is holding his position, which he is, because Dave is fucking amazing like that. Then he leans down completely and takes Dave all the way into his mouth, tongue pressing against the throbbing vein as he moves his head up and down slowly while stroking himself. And then Dave comes in his mouth, hard and long, spurts of come coating his tongue and lips. Neal follows him shortly, come splattering against their clothes and on the floor between their bodies.
"I fucking love you," says Dave when Neal has helped him into a better position, voice raspy and ragged. Neal feels something coil inside his stomach, and smiles. "I love you too," he confesses. It is not the first time that Dave has told him this, and it is certainly not the first time that Neal has thought the words back; but it is the first time he has ever said the words out loud.
He looks tentatively at Dave, not sure if he wants to see how Dave reacts to the words. Dave is smiling brightly at him, eyes turning slightly shiny and wet. "I know," he whispers and holds out his hand for Neal to lie down on the floor next to him. Neal looks at the hand for a few seconds before moving until he is lying next to Dave, the tips of their fingers bumping together gently.
fin.
Pairing: David Cook/Neal Tiemann
Rating: R
Wordcount: ~1400
Warning: mild D/s, language.
Summary: He likes it, oh screw it, he fucking loves it when Dave bends so easily for him, bends whichever way Neal fancies.
Disclaimer: David Cook, Neal Tiemann and et al. belong to themselves. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Thanks to sillyshy for beta'ing for me! Fic was inspired by this picture of David Cook. You can also read this fic over at AO3, if you prefer that!
backwards bent.
He glances down at the figure at his feet, admiring how the soft hair seems to curl at the end of the neck, making the white creamy skin stand out even more. He reaches out, his fingers idly touching the exposed skin and pushes at the back of the head to make the figure bend further forward. Dave. His Dave. Because Dave is his and has been since the first moment they met in Andy's garage six or so years ago.
Neal licks his lips, tongue running over two silver hoops in the process, as he takes in the submissive posture. He likes it, oh screw it, he fucking loves it when Dave bends so easily for him, bends whichever way Neal fancies.
"Kiss my shoes," he whispers heatedly, voice low and husky. Dave does not need to be told twice. He leans all the way down with his hands clasped together behind his back and opens his mouth, a tentative tongue darting out to lick the worn leather once, twice, thrice before pressing his lips gently against the shoe. Neal admires the way Dave seems to sit so comfortable in that position, and loves it even more as Dave's shirt rides up and shows a patch of skin and the top of his boxers from underneath his jeans.
"You like that?" he asks, though the question is futile, because he knows that Dave likes it. They both do; they both get hard from Neal telling Dave what to do and Dave from being told what to do. It's their thing, and Neal wouldn't change it for the world.
"Enough," he says, and pulls back his foot. Dave remains sitting like that, stomach resting on his knees, hands tightly wounded together behind the back and head one inch above the floor. He knows better than to move; knows better than to test Neal's patience.
Neal waits a couple of silent moments, ears straining to hear Dave's soft breathing. And then, when he feels that Dave has waited long enough, he gets down on one knee next to the bend over Dave.
"Mm, such a fucking good boy," he whispers, leaning over Dave to run his tongue against the nape of Dave's neck. He smirks as he feels Dave shivers under his touch, pleased with the reaction. His fingers run teasingly down Dave's back until he reaches that small exposed patch of skin that he has been unable to stop thinking about.
"Sit up," he demands, his fingers slowly slipping away from Dave's lower back as Dave sits up, their heads now only inches apart. Dave's eyes flutter closed and Neal cannot stop staring at the calm, trusting, and almost innocent look on Dave's face. His breath hitches in his throat, and for some reason he has to look away. They have done this many times before, and getting Dave to lick his shoes is nothing new, but the look on Dave's face is. Neal feels his heart skip a beat, and he swallows. When he finally looks back at Dave, Dave is staring at him, a small understanding smile gracing his lips. His lips twitch slowly, and before he knows it, he is returning the smile.
Dave leans closer to him, eyes darting from Neal's eyes and down to his lips and then back up again. Neal doesn't say anything, just waits for Dave to do as he wants, because this is not something he can demand Dave to do. Finally, Dave closes the distances between them and presses his lips against Neal's. And it feels fucking amazing, even more so because this was unprompted and completely innocent and… something entirely new. Neal feels as if something significant has just happened, as if this moment is what it all comes down to. As if this is how life should be.
Neal changes position, now sitting on both his knees as he deepens the kiss, hand reaching up to rest on Dave's neck. Pale, strong fingers are gripping tightly onto the strands of soft hair that he had admired just moments ago. "Fuck," he murmurs against Dave's lips, and Dave responds by opening his mouth and teeth closing around the right sliver hoop, softly tugging at it. Neal growls, and pushes their mouths closer together as his fingers curl in the brown hair.
They are both breathing heavily when Dave leans back again, eyes twinkling with amusement and lips red and swollen.
"Where do you want me Master?" asks Dave, grinning softly, which makes Neal groan in delight, his nostrils flaring as he tries to control his breathing. It takes him a second to collect his thoughts, to form a coherent sentence. He reaches up, hand curling around the back of Dave's neck, fingers longing to tease the soft strands of hair again but resists. Then, slowly, he starts to press Dave backwards, smirking as Dave has to spread his thighs to adjust to the position as Neal continues to lower him down, down, down.
When Dave is down in a perfect backwards bend (a position that Neal is quite fond of himself when playing the guitar) he releases Dave's head and leans back on his heels to take in the sight. Dave's shirt is now riding up in the front, showing a small trail of soft brown hair leading down into his jeans. Neal smirks, silver hoops glinting dully as a ray of light catches onto them.
"Stay like that," he demands, and leans down to press his lips against Dave's stomach, teeth nipping the pale skin teasingly, velvet tongue running over the trail of hair until he reaches the hem of the jeans. Dave's hips move, silently urging Neal to continue further down.
"Think you can handle staying in this position while I blow you?" he asks, one eyebrow arched perfectly as he waits for Dave's answer. Dave doesn't answer though, just swallows loudly and opens his mouth pleadingly, small incoherent sounds leaving his mouth. Neal grin softens for a split second before the smirk returns. Then slowly he unzips Dave's jeans and reaches with his left hand into Dave's boxers, fingers curling around Dave's length that hardens in his hand. His own cock is straining against his jeans, and he quickly unzips his own jeans with his right hand, groaning as his fingers come in contact with his own cock. It is difficult and kind of awkward, but by now Neal has become quite talented in multitasking, so it is with expertly strokes he starts to move his hands up and down.
Neal groans deeply, and with one final glance at Dave's face, he leans down, mouth opening as he licks the tip of Dave's cock. His tongue twirls around the head, hand holding onto the base as he presses his tongue against the tiny slit, pleased when a pearly drop of pre-come appears. He licks it up, moaning at the taste of Dave on his tongue. Dave groans and spreads his legs even further apart, and Neal looks to make sure that his boy is holding his position, which he is, because Dave is fucking amazing like that. Then he leans down completely and takes Dave all the way into his mouth, tongue pressing against the throbbing vein as he moves his head up and down slowly while stroking himself. And then Dave comes in his mouth, hard and long, spurts of come coating his tongue and lips. Neal follows him shortly, come splattering against their clothes and on the floor between their bodies.
"I fucking love you," says Dave when Neal has helped him into a better position, voice raspy and ragged. Neal feels something coil inside his stomach, and smiles. "I love you too," he confesses. It is not the first time that Dave has told him this, and it is certainly not the first time that Neal has thought the words back; but it is the first time he has ever said the words out loud.
He looks tentatively at Dave, not sure if he wants to see how Dave reacts to the words. Dave is smiling brightly at him, eyes turning slightly shiny and wet. "I know," he whispers and holds out his hand for Neal to lie down on the floor next to him. Neal looks at the hand for a few seconds before moving until he is lying next to Dave, the tips of their fingers bumping together gently.
fin.