Beat-the-heat challenge fic: Benched
Title: Benched
Author: storyfan
Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries (movie 'verse)
Pairing/Characters: Donald Strachey/Timothy Callahan
Rating: NC-17
Word count: About 1,300 words
Summary: Timmy works out, but Don's just getting warmed up.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Richard Stevenson.
A/N: Thanks to nyteflyer for the last-minute beta job. I've included a few screencaps that aren't from our favorite movies (they're from "Category 7: The End of the World), but I think readers will agree they very nicely illustrate this story.
“It’s a short list. I promise.” Sweat beaded on Timmy’s forehead as he raised the incline on his treadmill. “It’ll take you ten minutes.”
I leaned against the doorway, admiring Timmy’s running form but at the same time wondering whether I ought to have him committed. It was about as hot in the house as it was outside, or at least it seemed that way to me. The air conditioning worked, but it was nothing to write home about. Albany’s current heat wave was five days old, and we were both looking forward to a thunderstorm that was supposed to move in that night.
“It’s four million degrees outside. There’s nothing we need that badly that it can’t wait until this heat wave breaks.”
“We’re out of lube.”
That was different. “Where’s the list?”
“Kitchen table.” Timmy waved at the door, clearly wanting to finish his workout in peace.
****
It took a lot longer than ten minutes. Not because the list was long, but because the air conditioning at the drugstore was set on Antarctica. It felt like heaven. I meandered up and down the aisles, shivering happily, examining this and that, until one of the clerks came up and asked me if I needed help finding anything. She probably thought I was casing the joint.
I already had everything Timmy wanted, doubling up on the lube just in case the heat wave didn’t break, so I told her I was ready to check out. So much for hospitality.
I drove home, hoping to convince Timmy to spend the rest of the day at the movies. We could huddle in the back row, eat popcorn and enjoy air conditioning that worked a lot better than ours. I parked the car and dashed inside before I could work up a sweat. As I opened our door, I heard the tell-tale clang of the weight machine. The man had to be crazy.
Shopping bag in hand, I trotted to the spare bedroom where we kept our exercise equipment. I was about to tell him enough already when I caught sight of the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
Timmy was hot, all right. Sweaty, dripping hot. He’d taken off his T-shirt and running shoes to finish his workout, and now he was lying back on the weight bench wearing nothing but those skimpy black running shorts that left nothing to my imagination. I watched him, open-mouthed, while his long, strong arms lifted God-knows-how-much weight, his chest expanding and contracting with his efforts.
My libido went from zero to ninety in the space of a second. I wanted him. Badly. I grabbed a package of lube from the shopping bag, ripping the box open as I approached Timmy.
“What are you doing?” He tracked my progress across the room. “Something wrong?”
I knelt beside him and closed my eyes, breathing in his sweat, getting off on the scent of his overheated body. I felt his sweaty hand on my face, his thumb on my lower lip.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
I turned my head slightly so I could lick his palm. “You know what’s wrong.”
His gaze widened when he spotted the lube in my hand. “Now, wait just a minute…”
I leaned over and kissed him, and his protests melted like soft butter on a hot engine block. I slid my palm across his damp chest, teasing his nipples until they hardened under my touch. Timmy moaned into my mouth and tried to sit up, but I planted my hands on his shoulders, urging him to stay right where he was.
“Bedroom,” he whispered when I broke the kiss. His blue eyes were wide and glassy. “Cooler in there.”
“Hotter in here.” I wrapped his shaking hands around the handles of the weight bench. “Hang on tight.”
“Don-” His back arched as I kissed his left nipple, then drew it into my mouth, flicking at it with my tongue and biting just hard enough to make him moan. “God, Don, let’s go to the-”
He did a lot more than moan when I clamped my hand around his cock and started massaging him through the silky material of his shorts. He pushed up into my hand, twisting his hips, the movement tightening the firm muscles in his stomach.
“Beautiful.” I kissed my way down his chest to stomach, lingering for a minute on his navel before rubbing my cheek against his cock. Another groan, another thrust of his hips and he was fully hard.
“Donald. Please.”
I gazed down the length of his body, enjoying the view and saying a quick prayer of thanks that he was mine. “Please, what?”
Timmy raised his head and looked at me, his mouth open and panting, sweat pouring down his face, his fingers still clenched around the handles. “Do something. Anything.”
I’d wanted to fuck him right there on the weight bench, but in that moment something changed, and for me it became all about his pleasure, about what he needed from me rather than what I needed from him. I tucked my fingers inside the waistband of his shorts, pulled them down an inch and kissed his stomach.
“Lift up.”
He pushed himself up on his toes, and I pulled the damp material down his hips, freeing his cock, before tugging it from his legs.
I stopped for a second just to look at him, lying there naked on that bench, his legs spread wide, his body damp and flushed, his heavy cock leaking with every breath he took. He was every sane person’s fantasy, and I got to live it every day of my life.
“Please,” he whispered. “Don’t stop now.”
“How could I?” I uncapped the lube and sat down at the end of the weight bench, arranging his legs so that his thighs rested on top of mine and his ass was almost flush with my crotch. I took hold of his hips and leaned into him, letting him feel how hard I was, and almost came in my pants when he started grinding himself against me. He locked his ankles behind my back and tried to pull me forward, but I dug in my heels and told him to relax.
“Let me make you feel good.”
“Feel good now.”
“I’ll make you feel better.” I coated my fingers with lube and went straight for his hole. The second I touched it Timmy went crazy, writhing and twisting as he tried to get my fingers inside him. I teased him for just a second before pushing in one finger, then another. Timmy groaned deep in his chest as I brushed his prostate and took hold of his cock at the same time. Timmy tightened his thighs around my waist, lifting his back off the bench as my fingers pressed deep inside him. I started pushing and pulling in counterpoint, giving him a rhythm to follow, and a moment later, his body took over. He thrust into my fist and impaled himself on my fingers, up and down, again and again. His cock turned practically purple, leaking over my hand, and just when I thought he couldn’t stand any more, I pressed down on his prostate. He let out a high-pitched wail and and came in long spurts that didn’t seem to end.
“Don.” I could barely hear his voice, it was so hoarse. “What about you?”
I eased my fingers out of his ass and gently rubbed his hole, easing the ache that was more emotional for him than it was physical. “Don’t worry about me.” I was still as hard as a rock, but it was worth it to see him lose himself like that.
Timmy eased his feet back to the floor and sighed. “Come here,” he said, reaching for me. I leaned over him, bracing myself on the weight bench handles, and licked the sweat from his cheek. He smiled and kissed me, nice and slow, ratcheting my hard-on up another notch.
“Wanna take a shower with me?”
I kissed the tip of his sweaty nose. “As long as that’s not all we do.”
“I thought I would suck you off, if you’re up for it.”
“Oh, I’m up for it.”
He smiled up at me, a devilish glint in his eyes. “I thought this heat wave was too much for you.”
“As long as it’s you heating me, then I’m all for it.” I kissed him again, taking my time about it, hoping that maybe he’d be up for second round. I felt his dick twitch against my thigh.
Air conditioning was highly overrated.
Author: storyfan
Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries (movie 'verse)
Pairing/Characters: Donald Strachey/Timothy Callahan
Rating: NC-17
Word count: About 1,300 words
Summary: Timmy works out, but Don's just getting warmed up.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Richard Stevenson.
A/N: Thanks to nyteflyer for the last-minute beta job. I've included a few screencaps that aren't from our favorite movies (they're from "Category 7: The End of the World), but I think readers will agree they very nicely illustrate this story.
“It’s a short list. I promise.” Sweat beaded on Timmy’s forehead as he raised the incline on his treadmill. “It’ll take you ten minutes.”
I leaned against the doorway, admiring Timmy’s running form but at the same time wondering whether I ought to have him committed. It was about as hot in the house as it was outside, or at least it seemed that way to me. The air conditioning worked, but it was nothing to write home about. Albany’s current heat wave was five days old, and we were both looking forward to a thunderstorm that was supposed to move in that night.
“It’s four million degrees outside. There’s nothing we need that badly that it can’t wait until this heat wave breaks.”
“We’re out of lube.”
That was different. “Where’s the list?”
“Kitchen table.” Timmy waved at the door, clearly wanting to finish his workout in peace.
****
It took a lot longer than ten minutes. Not because the list was long, but because the air conditioning at the drugstore was set on Antarctica. It felt like heaven. I meandered up and down the aisles, shivering happily, examining this and that, until one of the clerks came up and asked me if I needed help finding anything. She probably thought I was casing the joint.
I already had everything Timmy wanted, doubling up on the lube just in case the heat wave didn’t break, so I told her I was ready to check out. So much for hospitality.
I drove home, hoping to convince Timmy to spend the rest of the day at the movies. We could huddle in the back row, eat popcorn and enjoy air conditioning that worked a lot better than ours. I parked the car and dashed inside before I could work up a sweat. As I opened our door, I heard the tell-tale clang of the weight machine. The man had to be crazy.
Shopping bag in hand, I trotted to the spare bedroom where we kept our exercise equipment. I was about to tell him enough already when I caught sight of the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
Timmy was hot, all right. Sweaty, dripping hot. He’d taken off his T-shirt and running shoes to finish his workout, and now he was lying back on the weight bench wearing nothing but those skimpy black running shorts that left nothing to my imagination. I watched him, open-mouthed, while his long, strong arms lifted God-knows-how-much weight, his chest expanding and contracting with his efforts.
My libido went from zero to ninety in the space of a second. I wanted him. Badly. I grabbed a package of lube from the shopping bag, ripping the box open as I approached Timmy.
“What are you doing?” He tracked my progress across the room. “Something wrong?”
I knelt beside him and closed my eyes, breathing in his sweat, getting off on the scent of his overheated body. I felt his sweaty hand on my face, his thumb on my lower lip.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
I turned my head slightly so I could lick his palm. “You know what’s wrong.”
His gaze widened when he spotted the lube in my hand. “Now, wait just a minute…”
I leaned over and kissed him, and his protests melted like soft butter on a hot engine block. I slid my palm across his damp chest, teasing his nipples until they hardened under my touch. Timmy moaned into my mouth and tried to sit up, but I planted my hands on his shoulders, urging him to stay right where he was.
“Bedroom,” he whispered when I broke the kiss. His blue eyes were wide and glassy. “Cooler in there.”
“Hotter in here.” I wrapped his shaking hands around the handles of the weight bench. “Hang on tight.”
“Don-” His back arched as I kissed his left nipple, then drew it into my mouth, flicking at it with my tongue and biting just hard enough to make him moan. “God, Don, let’s go to the-”
He did a lot more than moan when I clamped my hand around his cock and started massaging him through the silky material of his shorts. He pushed up into my hand, twisting his hips, the movement tightening the firm muscles in his stomach.
“Beautiful.” I kissed my way down his chest to stomach, lingering for a minute on his navel before rubbing my cheek against his cock. Another groan, another thrust of his hips and he was fully hard.
“Donald. Please.”
I gazed down the length of his body, enjoying the view and saying a quick prayer of thanks that he was mine. “Please, what?”
Timmy raised his head and looked at me, his mouth open and panting, sweat pouring down his face, his fingers still clenched around the handles. “Do something. Anything.”
I’d wanted to fuck him right there on the weight bench, but in that moment something changed, and for me it became all about his pleasure, about what he needed from me rather than what I needed from him. I tucked my fingers inside the waistband of his shorts, pulled them down an inch and kissed his stomach.
“Lift up.”
He pushed himself up on his toes, and I pulled the damp material down his hips, freeing his cock, before tugging it from his legs.
I stopped for a second just to look at him, lying there naked on that bench, his legs spread wide, his body damp and flushed, his heavy cock leaking with every breath he took. He was every sane person’s fantasy, and I got to live it every day of my life.
“Please,” he whispered. “Don’t stop now.”
“How could I?” I uncapped the lube and sat down at the end of the weight bench, arranging his legs so that his thighs rested on top of mine and his ass was almost flush with my crotch. I took hold of his hips and leaned into him, letting him feel how hard I was, and almost came in my pants when he started grinding himself against me. He locked his ankles behind my back and tried to pull me forward, but I dug in my heels and told him to relax.
“Let me make you feel good.”
“Feel good now.”
“I’ll make you feel better.” I coated my fingers with lube and went straight for his hole. The second I touched it Timmy went crazy, writhing and twisting as he tried to get my fingers inside him. I teased him for just a second before pushing in one finger, then another. Timmy groaned deep in his chest as I brushed his prostate and took hold of his cock at the same time. Timmy tightened his thighs around my waist, lifting his back off the bench as my fingers pressed deep inside him. I started pushing and pulling in counterpoint, giving him a rhythm to follow, and a moment later, his body took over. He thrust into my fist and impaled himself on my fingers, up and down, again and again. His cock turned practically purple, leaking over my hand, and just when I thought he couldn’t stand any more, I pressed down on his prostate. He let out a high-pitched wail and and came in long spurts that didn’t seem to end.
“Don.” I could barely hear his voice, it was so hoarse. “What about you?”
I eased my fingers out of his ass and gently rubbed his hole, easing the ache that was more emotional for him than it was physical. “Don’t worry about me.” I was still as hard as a rock, but it was worth it to see him lose himself like that.
Timmy eased his feet back to the floor and sighed. “Come here,” he said, reaching for me. I leaned over him, bracing myself on the weight bench handles, and licked the sweat from his cheek. He smiled and kissed me, nice and slow, ratcheting my hard-on up another notch.
“Wanna take a shower with me?”
I kissed the tip of his sweaty nose. “As long as that’s not all we do.”
“I thought I would suck you off, if you’re up for it.”
“Oh, I’m up for it.”
He smiled up at me, a devilish glint in his eyes. “I thought this heat wave was too much for you.”
“As long as it’s you heating me, then I’m all for it.” I kissed him again, taking my time about it, hoping that maybe he’d be up for second round. I felt his dick twitch against my thigh.
Air conditioning was highly overrated.