letting
title: Letting
with: Flack/Mac
rated: NC-17
herein: It’s the waiting, Flack thinks. That’s what has helped Mac let go.
disclaim: I only own the dvds; everything belongs to Zuiker, CBS, et al
note: started way back for the last porn battle, but finished for fruitbat00
Flack steps back from the bed and considers. He watches the fingers of Mac’s right hand twist in the air. He watches, and he is silent.
Mac shifts a little. His wrists are bound to the headboard. His eyes are blindfolded. He’s hard and leaking, cock slick with precome and Flack’s spit.
“Don?” he asks.
Flack is silent. His own cock is hard, straining against his pants. Mac twists on the bed. Flack counts to one hundred. Mac’s body draws bowstring tight. He’s listening, but Flack is silent.
Drew Bedford is still fresh in their memories, and Mac has been restless in the aftermath of it, like he can’t key down from the adrenaline. He hasn’t been talking to Flack, but he hasn’t been hiding either. So Flack didn’t understand that when a dirty cop turned up this week, Mac had edited the truth-Truby all over again, but not quite. Do you trust me? Flack had asked earlier this evening, because sometimes he has his doubts. Because sometimes he thinks Mac has his doubts. And they both need to know.
Mac’s face had shuttered for a moment, but when he looked up his gaze had been steady.
When it’s been long enough, Flack reaches down and places his hand on Mac’s thigh. Mac jumps, gasps.
“Thought I went somewhere?” Flack asks.
“No.” Mac pushes his leg up, into Flack’s touch. Flack leans down and licks the crease of Mac’s leg. Mac whimpers.
“I could have gone somewhere.” Flack bares his teeth against Mac’s hipbone. Ultimately, it’s a lie.
“You didn’t,” Mac says. Flack sits on the edge of the bed, watching Mac tilt his head blindly, twist his wrists helplessly. “You wouldn’t.”
“You’re sure of that?” Flack puts a good amount of teasing in his voice, but he wants an honest answer. He blows over the head of Mac’s cock, which jumps in response.
“You wouldn’t,” Mac says again. The muscles of his stomach contract. Flack reaches out with the tip of his tongue and brushes the underside of Mac’s cock. Mac shudders and makes a choked off noise.
“What was that?” Flack smiles, even though Mac can’t see it.
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Make me come.” Mac plants one foot on the bed and writhes in a way that makes Flack clench his hands.
“And how should I do that?” Flack asks. He steels himself and rubs a thumb over Mac’s nipple.
“I don’t-” Mac strains against the twisted sheet that binds him to the headboard. “I don’t care.”
Flack grabs him firmly by the hips. “You don’t care?” He leans down to bite the flesh of Mac’s side, hard. Mac grunts, and Flack sucks on the mark until it’s good and red. “You sure you don’t care how?”
“No.” Mac’s breath is rapid, and a flush rises up from his chest to his face. “Whatever you want. Just.”
“Just make you come.” Flack presses two fingers to the base of Mac’s cock.
“Yes.”
Flack gives him one rough stroke, and Mac hisses. “You know,” Flack says, “I could do anything to you right now.”
“I know. You could do anything.” Mac’s voice is gravel. “You can do anything.”
“I certainly can.” Flack’s not sure how he keeps his tone light. “And you’re going to lie there and take it, and like it.”
“Yeah,” Mac says. “Do it. Do something, anything.”
“I could leave you here while I go down to the corner, buy a pack of smokes,” Flack says. He’s bluffing though. “Would you like that?”
“No.” Mac groans, and the muscles of his arms knot as he pulls at the bonds again. “Don’t do that.”
“Please?”
“Please, fuck,” Mac says fiercely, “don’t make me wait any longer.”
Flack licks his lips. “Who’s in charge here?”
Mac takes several deep breaths through his nose before answering. “You are.”
“That’s right,” Flack says with a calmness he doesn’t actually feel. “And you’re going to wait a little bit longer.”
Mac whimpers.
It’s the waiting, Flack thinks. That’s what has helped Mac let go. He’s too restless these days to keep his composure for long.
After another count of one hundred, Flack shifts onto his knees and crawls up Mac’s body. Mac turns his head, trying to track Flack’s movements, then Flack’s straddling his chest. Flack unzips his pants and pulls his cock out, giving himself a couple good strokes.
“Don?” Mac asks. Flack doesn’t answer. He rubs the head of his cock against Mac’s lips, and Mac draws a sharp breath.
“Open your mouth.”
Mac does, and his tongue comes out tentatively, licking across Flack’s cock. Flack hisses. He leans forward, bracing one hand against the headboard, and feeds his cock into Mac’s waiting mouth. Mac groans and starts to suck hard. Flack fucks his mouth carefully, in short strokes that take every ounce of control he has. Mac’s hands curl. His knuckles are white, and he bobs his hand the best he can, like he wants Flack deeper, like he wants Flack to take.
Flack lets go of his cock and threads his hand into Mac’s hair, holding tight. Mac groans again, the sound humming against Flack’s cock, pushing him closer. He grits his teeth and forces himself to slow the pace down. Mac’s tongue strokes the underside of Flack’s cock, and this time Flack groans. He’s not going to last. He looks down, watching himself move in and out of Mac’s mouth. Mac’s mouth is red and bruised. His cheeks are hollowed. Flack doesn’t warn Mac, just tightens the hand in his hair and lets orgasm rise up and wash over, and he comes in Mac’s mouth. Mac chokes a little, then swallows and sucks until it’s too much, until Flack lets go of his hair, moves away.
Mac drops his head back to the pillow, gasping for breath. Flack crawls back down the bed, dragging his fingernails across Mac’s chest. He knocks Mac’s legs apart and kneels between them.
“Give it up for me,” Flack says, then takes Mac into his mouth as deep as he can. Mac shouts, and soon he’s coming long and hard. Flack gathers the come in his mouth the best he can, not swallowing. When Mac goes limp, Flack crawls up again and kisses him deeply. Mac makes a noise that draws an ache through Flack’s chest, and he takes it all.
After, Flack kisses him lightly, kisses his cheek and forehead. Kisses the blindfold over his eyes. He unknots the sheet tied around Mac’s wrists, and he rubs Mac’s hands and arms gently. Mac waits with his face upturned. Finally, Flack kisses him on the lips again, almost chastely, and removes the blindfold. Mac blinks, then raises his hand to trace Flack’s features.
Mac’s pliant enough that Flack can arrange them, that Flack can curl himself around Mac and hold on and on.
with: Flack/Mac
rated: NC-17
herein: It’s the waiting, Flack thinks. That’s what has helped Mac let go.
disclaim: I only own the dvds; everything belongs to Zuiker, CBS, et al
note: started way back for the last porn battle, but finished for fruitbat00
Flack steps back from the bed and considers. He watches the fingers of Mac’s right hand twist in the air. He watches, and he is silent.
Mac shifts a little. His wrists are bound to the headboard. His eyes are blindfolded. He’s hard and leaking, cock slick with precome and Flack’s spit.
“Don?” he asks.
Flack is silent. His own cock is hard, straining against his pants. Mac twists on the bed. Flack counts to one hundred. Mac’s body draws bowstring tight. He’s listening, but Flack is silent.
Drew Bedford is still fresh in their memories, and Mac has been restless in the aftermath of it, like he can’t key down from the adrenaline. He hasn’t been talking to Flack, but he hasn’t been hiding either. So Flack didn’t understand that when a dirty cop turned up this week, Mac had edited the truth-Truby all over again, but not quite. Do you trust me? Flack had asked earlier this evening, because sometimes he has his doubts. Because sometimes he thinks Mac has his doubts. And they both need to know.
Mac’s face had shuttered for a moment, but when he looked up his gaze had been steady.
When it’s been long enough, Flack reaches down and places his hand on Mac’s thigh. Mac jumps, gasps.
“Thought I went somewhere?” Flack asks.
“No.” Mac pushes his leg up, into Flack’s touch. Flack leans down and licks the crease of Mac’s leg. Mac whimpers.
“I could have gone somewhere.” Flack bares his teeth against Mac’s hipbone. Ultimately, it’s a lie.
“You didn’t,” Mac says. Flack sits on the edge of the bed, watching Mac tilt his head blindly, twist his wrists helplessly. “You wouldn’t.”
“You’re sure of that?” Flack puts a good amount of teasing in his voice, but he wants an honest answer. He blows over the head of Mac’s cock, which jumps in response.
“You wouldn’t,” Mac says again. The muscles of his stomach contract. Flack reaches out with the tip of his tongue and brushes the underside of Mac’s cock. Mac shudders and makes a choked off noise.
“What was that?” Flack smiles, even though Mac can’t see it.
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Make me come.” Mac plants one foot on the bed and writhes in a way that makes Flack clench his hands.
“And how should I do that?” Flack asks. He steels himself and rubs a thumb over Mac’s nipple.
“I don’t-” Mac strains against the twisted sheet that binds him to the headboard. “I don’t care.”
Flack grabs him firmly by the hips. “You don’t care?” He leans down to bite the flesh of Mac’s side, hard. Mac grunts, and Flack sucks on the mark until it’s good and red. “You sure you don’t care how?”
“No.” Mac’s breath is rapid, and a flush rises up from his chest to his face. “Whatever you want. Just.”
“Just make you come.” Flack presses two fingers to the base of Mac’s cock.
“Yes.”
Flack gives him one rough stroke, and Mac hisses. “You know,” Flack says, “I could do anything to you right now.”
“I know. You could do anything.” Mac’s voice is gravel. “You can do anything.”
“I certainly can.” Flack’s not sure how he keeps his tone light. “And you’re going to lie there and take it, and like it.”
“Yeah,” Mac says. “Do it. Do something, anything.”
“I could leave you here while I go down to the corner, buy a pack of smokes,” Flack says. He’s bluffing though. “Would you like that?”
“No.” Mac groans, and the muscles of his arms knot as he pulls at the bonds again. “Don’t do that.”
“Please?”
“Please, fuck,” Mac says fiercely, “don’t make me wait any longer.”
Flack licks his lips. “Who’s in charge here?”
Mac takes several deep breaths through his nose before answering. “You are.”
“That’s right,” Flack says with a calmness he doesn’t actually feel. “And you’re going to wait a little bit longer.”
Mac whimpers.
It’s the waiting, Flack thinks. That’s what has helped Mac let go. He’s too restless these days to keep his composure for long.
After another count of one hundred, Flack shifts onto his knees and crawls up Mac’s body. Mac turns his head, trying to track Flack’s movements, then Flack’s straddling his chest. Flack unzips his pants and pulls his cock out, giving himself a couple good strokes.
“Don?” Mac asks. Flack doesn’t answer. He rubs the head of his cock against Mac’s lips, and Mac draws a sharp breath.
“Open your mouth.”
Mac does, and his tongue comes out tentatively, licking across Flack’s cock. Flack hisses. He leans forward, bracing one hand against the headboard, and feeds his cock into Mac’s waiting mouth. Mac groans and starts to suck hard. Flack fucks his mouth carefully, in short strokes that take every ounce of control he has. Mac’s hands curl. His knuckles are white, and he bobs his hand the best he can, like he wants Flack deeper, like he wants Flack to take.
Flack lets go of his cock and threads his hand into Mac’s hair, holding tight. Mac groans again, the sound humming against Flack’s cock, pushing him closer. He grits his teeth and forces himself to slow the pace down. Mac’s tongue strokes the underside of Flack’s cock, and this time Flack groans. He’s not going to last. He looks down, watching himself move in and out of Mac’s mouth. Mac’s mouth is red and bruised. His cheeks are hollowed. Flack doesn’t warn Mac, just tightens the hand in his hair and lets orgasm rise up and wash over, and he comes in Mac’s mouth. Mac chokes a little, then swallows and sucks until it’s too much, until Flack lets go of his hair, moves away.
Mac drops his head back to the pillow, gasping for breath. Flack crawls back down the bed, dragging his fingernails across Mac’s chest. He knocks Mac’s legs apart and kneels between them.
“Give it up for me,” Flack says, then takes Mac into his mouth as deep as he can. Mac shouts, and soon he’s coming long and hard. Flack gathers the come in his mouth the best he can, not swallowing. When Mac goes limp, Flack crawls up again and kisses him deeply. Mac makes a noise that draws an ache through Flack’s chest, and he takes it all.
After, Flack kisses him lightly, kisses his cheek and forehead. Kisses the blindfold over his eyes. He unknots the sheet tied around Mac’s wrists, and he rubs Mac’s hands and arms gently. Mac waits with his face upturned. Finally, Flack kisses him on the lips again, almost chastely, and removes the blindfold. Mac blinks, then raises his hand to trace Flack’s features.
Mac’s pliant enough that Flack can arrange them, that Flack can curl himself around Mac and hold on and on.