#388 - [FIC] Tit for Tat (Arthur/Nash)
Title: Tit for Tat
Word Count: 1,409
Pairing: Arthur/Nash
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Arthur was always like this, unable to stop stirring up shit every time he wound up here again. Nash was just along for the ride.
Warnings: rimming, hatesex, dirty talk
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Author's Note: coldthermistor, there is nothing redeeming about this plotwise, so just walk away slowly. Trust me. Vaguely inspired by this prompt on the kink meme. I was working from memory and only managed to catch the tail end of it, so this is not a real fill. But heyyyyyy.... HAPPY NEW YEAR, HAVE SOME PORN.
“Christ, this place is a fucking dump,” Arthur complained, sidestepping a black hefty bag-laundry, not garbage. He glanced over with a faint grimace of disgust. “You really are a rat, aren’t you?”
“Take me to your place if you don’t like it.”
“And have you know where I sleep?” He raised an eyebrow. “No thanks.”
Nash shrugged, letting the dig roll off his shoulders.
He didn’t give a fuck either way. Arthur was always like this, unable to stop stirring up shit every time he wound up here again. It happened often enough. If there was a pattern to it-and there probably was, Arthur’s unannounced visits scheduled around important dates he wasn’t privy to-Nash hadn’t figured it out.
Not that he gave a fuck about that, either. He was just along for the ride.
Arthur rolled his sleeves to the elbow and undid his collar, belt and caramel colored leather jacket folded neatly over the back of a chair, the only real furniture to speak of. He held a cigarette clenched in his lips as he twisted the wheel of a cheap, red lighter.
Arthur gestured at him with it. “Strip.”
Nash did it without any fanfare and Arthur’s mouth gave a tic that was almost a smile as he watched, blowing out the smoke from his lungs. He took a seat and undid his fly, lounging back and pulling out his cock, flushed as red as his shirt from tip to base.
“Come here,” he said, long fingers curled around the shaft, cigarette still dangling from the fingers of his other hand and trailing smoke. “I’ve got something for you.”
Nash refrained from asking Arthur what skin-flick he’d pulled that out of. Arthur was such an impatient prick sometimes. Not that he wasn’t feeling antsy himself at this point, cock jutting out between his legs, bony knees digging into the wood of the floor. He’d probably be picking splinters out of them later.
“Don’t just stare at it, asshole,” Arthur said. He took a drag off his smoke, flicking ash onto the floorboards. “Suck it.”
Nash lowered his mouth onto the man’s cock, as much to hide his smile as anything. If Arthur thought his cheap lines were working their magic, great. Nash didn’t give a shit what got him off, as long as there was something in it for him, and there usually was. It wasn’t always readily apparent, but Arthur could be generous when the mood struck him.
The chair was a little victory in itself. Nash knew how badly Arthur wanted to be standing for this, hands fisted in his hair and peering down at him with his lip curled up and his cock buried in Nash’s throat-but his knees quaked like nothing else when he got head and the sonofabitch couldn’t even stand his ground to do it.
Arthur dug his fingers into his shoulder and gave a quiet groan as Nash hummed around him in response. Nash glanced up at him, seeing that muscle in his cheek twitch the way it always did when he was pissed about something.
“You’re disgusting,” he breathed. “You know that? Look at you, sucking my dick like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. You love it, don’t you? Greedy little slut.” He broke off with a grunt, eyes glittering. “Sucking dick’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?”
Nash pulled off with a wet sound.
“I’m a pretty good architect,” he offered, conversationally, idly continuing to jerk Arthur with one hand. “Beyond sucking dick.”
Arthur barked a laugh and flicked his cigarette butt onto the floor. “You’re a fucking lousy architect.”
He grabbed a fistful of Nash’s hair, yanking him forward so his cock rubbed over his cheek, leaving sticky smears of pre-come on his face. “Just look at this shithole you live in. You’re not fooling anyone.”
Nash sucked him down again, letting his teeth drag along the underside and taking the satisfaction with the discomfort as Arthur’s cock jammed hard against the back of his throat. It was worth it, just to get under his skin. He pulled the man’s slacks down around his thighs, ignoring the way Arthur’s hands tightened in his hair.
He popped a couple of fingers in his mouth alongside Arthur’s cock, slicking them before bringing them down past his balls and stroking the soft stretch of skin there, just long enough to draw a moan out of Arthur before he pushed both wet fingers into him. Even his thighs were shaking now, Nash noticed, his ears filled with Arthur’s barely suppressed groans as he fucked the man with his fingers, crooking and sliding them as Nash bobbed up and down on his cock, feeling it throb against his tongue.
Arthur gave a final grunt and jerked his head back roughly, spattering Nash’s face with his come. It hit his cheeks in spurts, slicking his mouth and chin, and Arthur’s grip went slack on his hair, hand dropping to his side. Nash licked the bitter fluid from his lips and wiped the rest with the back of his hand. He spared Arthur another glance, finding the man’s eyes squeezed tightly shut, his face red and beading with sweat. Good. Motherfucker prided himself so much on control, always acting like he was the better man.
Nash lowered his head again, ignoring Arthur’s confused murmur as he hefted one of the man’s legs over his shoulders and tugged him forward until his ass was hanging over the edge of the chair, his pink little pucker still shining with saliva. He stroked over it with a fingertip and watched as it contracted, trying to draw his fingers back in.
And Arthur said he was a greedy little slut.
Arthur jerked at the first swipe of his tongue. The taste, sweat and musk, wasn’t that different from anything else on the man’s body and Nash flicked out his tongue a second time, circling Arthur’s pucker and grinning to himself as the man gave a shaky moan. Nash rubbed his nose in the soft furring of hair there, feeling Arthur’s thighs tremble under his hands.
There was plenty of slick for his fingers to slip back into Arthur and stretch him out again, deepening the flush of pink all around the rim of his hole. Nash licked at where Arthur was stretched around his fingers, his cock throbbing brutally between his thighs at the little grunts Arthur kept letting slip past his lips as Nash fucked him with his fingers and tongue. His body made wet, wanting sounds, hips shoving forward against Nash’s mouth.
He heard, rather than saw, Arthur scramble for his cock. His fist flew over it, pumping it irregularly to the movement of Nash’s tongue flicking over his hole, slick with saliva and the come Arthur had left on his mouth and chin. His jaw protested, but Nash kept licking and sucking and shoving his fingers in and out of Arthur with rough jabs until the man stiffened, heel digging into the soft spot between his shoulder blades. Another hot jet of come hit his cheek and Arthur sagged down in the chair, breath coming quick and hard.
Nash got to his feet and seated himself on Arthur’s lap.
“What do you think you’re doing? Get off of me.” The effect of the command was somewhat ruined by his sleepy eyes, mouth slack around the edges. His hairline shone with sweat and tendrils of hair curled out around his ears.
Weight wise, he and Arthur were more or less evenly matched. Still, if he really wanted to, Arthur could throw him off easy. When Nash took up his cock and started tugging, though, Arthur only sat there, cheek ticking violently.
His eyes flashed murder and Nash could hear those perfect molars grinding as he jerked himself off, careless of the scrape of friction. It didn’t take long, but it was worth every frantic stroke to see Arthur’s shirt darken with his climax.
Arthur’s mouth drew into a thin line as Nash came down from the rush, his voice flat. “You ruined my favorite shirt, asshole.”
“That’s what you get for stubbing out your cigarettes on my floor, dickhead. You should know by now I give as good as I get.”
Arthur surveyed him for a moment and then shrugged. “I can respect that, I guess.”
Even Arthur clocking him two seconds later couldn’t quite wipe the grin off his face.
Word Count: 1,409
Pairing: Arthur/Nash
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Arthur was always like this, unable to stop stirring up shit every time he wound up here again. Nash was just along for the ride.
Warnings: rimming, hatesex, dirty talk
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Author's Note: coldthermistor, there is nothing redeeming about this plotwise, so just walk away slowly. Trust me. Vaguely inspired by this prompt on the kink meme. I was working from memory and only managed to catch the tail end of it, so this is not a real fill. But heyyyyyy.... HAPPY NEW YEAR, HAVE SOME PORN.
“Christ, this place is a fucking dump,” Arthur complained, sidestepping a black hefty bag-laundry, not garbage. He glanced over with a faint grimace of disgust. “You really are a rat, aren’t you?”
“Take me to your place if you don’t like it.”
“And have you know where I sleep?” He raised an eyebrow. “No thanks.”
Nash shrugged, letting the dig roll off his shoulders.
He didn’t give a fuck either way. Arthur was always like this, unable to stop stirring up shit every time he wound up here again. It happened often enough. If there was a pattern to it-and there probably was, Arthur’s unannounced visits scheduled around important dates he wasn’t privy to-Nash hadn’t figured it out.
Not that he gave a fuck about that, either. He was just along for the ride.
Arthur rolled his sleeves to the elbow and undid his collar, belt and caramel colored leather jacket folded neatly over the back of a chair, the only real furniture to speak of. He held a cigarette clenched in his lips as he twisted the wheel of a cheap, red lighter.
Arthur gestured at him with it. “Strip.”
Nash did it without any fanfare and Arthur’s mouth gave a tic that was almost a smile as he watched, blowing out the smoke from his lungs. He took a seat and undid his fly, lounging back and pulling out his cock, flushed as red as his shirt from tip to base.
“Come here,” he said, long fingers curled around the shaft, cigarette still dangling from the fingers of his other hand and trailing smoke. “I’ve got something for you.”
Nash refrained from asking Arthur what skin-flick he’d pulled that out of. Arthur was such an impatient prick sometimes. Not that he wasn’t feeling antsy himself at this point, cock jutting out between his legs, bony knees digging into the wood of the floor. He’d probably be picking splinters out of them later.
“Don’t just stare at it, asshole,” Arthur said. He took a drag off his smoke, flicking ash onto the floorboards. “Suck it.”
Nash lowered his mouth onto the man’s cock, as much to hide his smile as anything. If Arthur thought his cheap lines were working their magic, great. Nash didn’t give a shit what got him off, as long as there was something in it for him, and there usually was. It wasn’t always readily apparent, but Arthur could be generous when the mood struck him.
The chair was a little victory in itself. Nash knew how badly Arthur wanted to be standing for this, hands fisted in his hair and peering down at him with his lip curled up and his cock buried in Nash’s throat-but his knees quaked like nothing else when he got head and the sonofabitch couldn’t even stand his ground to do it.
Arthur dug his fingers into his shoulder and gave a quiet groan as Nash hummed around him in response. Nash glanced up at him, seeing that muscle in his cheek twitch the way it always did when he was pissed about something.
“You’re disgusting,” he breathed. “You know that? Look at you, sucking my dick like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. You love it, don’t you? Greedy little slut.” He broke off with a grunt, eyes glittering. “Sucking dick’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?”
Nash pulled off with a wet sound.
“I’m a pretty good architect,” he offered, conversationally, idly continuing to jerk Arthur with one hand. “Beyond sucking dick.”
Arthur barked a laugh and flicked his cigarette butt onto the floor. “You’re a fucking lousy architect.”
He grabbed a fistful of Nash’s hair, yanking him forward so his cock rubbed over his cheek, leaving sticky smears of pre-come on his face. “Just look at this shithole you live in. You’re not fooling anyone.”
Nash sucked him down again, letting his teeth drag along the underside and taking the satisfaction with the discomfort as Arthur’s cock jammed hard against the back of his throat. It was worth it, just to get under his skin. He pulled the man’s slacks down around his thighs, ignoring the way Arthur’s hands tightened in his hair.
He popped a couple of fingers in his mouth alongside Arthur’s cock, slicking them before bringing them down past his balls and stroking the soft stretch of skin there, just long enough to draw a moan out of Arthur before he pushed both wet fingers into him. Even his thighs were shaking now, Nash noticed, his ears filled with Arthur’s barely suppressed groans as he fucked the man with his fingers, crooking and sliding them as Nash bobbed up and down on his cock, feeling it throb against his tongue.
Arthur gave a final grunt and jerked his head back roughly, spattering Nash’s face with his come. It hit his cheeks in spurts, slicking his mouth and chin, and Arthur’s grip went slack on his hair, hand dropping to his side. Nash licked the bitter fluid from his lips and wiped the rest with the back of his hand. He spared Arthur another glance, finding the man’s eyes squeezed tightly shut, his face red and beading with sweat. Good. Motherfucker prided himself so much on control, always acting like he was the better man.
Nash lowered his head again, ignoring Arthur’s confused murmur as he hefted one of the man’s legs over his shoulders and tugged him forward until his ass was hanging over the edge of the chair, his pink little pucker still shining with saliva. He stroked over it with a fingertip and watched as it contracted, trying to draw his fingers back in.
And Arthur said he was a greedy little slut.
Arthur jerked at the first swipe of his tongue. The taste, sweat and musk, wasn’t that different from anything else on the man’s body and Nash flicked out his tongue a second time, circling Arthur’s pucker and grinning to himself as the man gave a shaky moan. Nash rubbed his nose in the soft furring of hair there, feeling Arthur’s thighs tremble under his hands.
There was plenty of slick for his fingers to slip back into Arthur and stretch him out again, deepening the flush of pink all around the rim of his hole. Nash licked at where Arthur was stretched around his fingers, his cock throbbing brutally between his thighs at the little grunts Arthur kept letting slip past his lips as Nash fucked him with his fingers and tongue. His body made wet, wanting sounds, hips shoving forward against Nash’s mouth.
He heard, rather than saw, Arthur scramble for his cock. His fist flew over it, pumping it irregularly to the movement of Nash’s tongue flicking over his hole, slick with saliva and the come Arthur had left on his mouth and chin. His jaw protested, but Nash kept licking and sucking and shoving his fingers in and out of Arthur with rough jabs until the man stiffened, heel digging into the soft spot between his shoulder blades. Another hot jet of come hit his cheek and Arthur sagged down in the chair, breath coming quick and hard.
Nash got to his feet and seated himself on Arthur’s lap.
“What do you think you’re doing? Get off of me.” The effect of the command was somewhat ruined by his sleepy eyes, mouth slack around the edges. His hairline shone with sweat and tendrils of hair curled out around his ears.
Weight wise, he and Arthur were more or less evenly matched. Still, if he really wanted to, Arthur could throw him off easy. When Nash took up his cock and started tugging, though, Arthur only sat there, cheek ticking violently.
His eyes flashed murder and Nash could hear those perfect molars grinding as he jerked himself off, careless of the scrape of friction. It didn’t take long, but it was worth every frantic stroke to see Arthur’s shirt darken with his climax.
Arthur’s mouth drew into a thin line as Nash came down from the rush, his voice flat. “You ruined my favorite shirt, asshole.”
“That’s what you get for stubbing out your cigarettes on my floor, dickhead. You should know by now I give as good as I get.”
Arthur surveyed him for a moment and then shrugged. “I can respect that, I guess.”
Even Arthur clocking him two seconds later couldn’t quite wipe the grin off his face.