BLACK HAWK DOWN Fic: Telegram -- K/D
Title: Telegram
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kurt 'Doc' Schmid/Dale Sizemore
Summary: Kurt gets word that he's got leave. Sequel to " Five-Alarm."
Author's Notes: I blame the extra-longness of this on perseph2hades, who baited me with pictures of mouthwatering men, the hussy. xmirax gets a cookie for being so excited about this fic, even though she's never seen the movie. And lionflame gets mad props for freaking out more than I did when I lost the first three pages of this. This is not a Valentine's Day fic, although I won't smack you if you take it as such.
TELEGRAM
The air was cool and moist with melting snow, and it soaked in to the very bones of anyone daring enough to go outside without a coat. Sprawled on the couch of his eleventh-floor apartment, Dale nursed a slight cold that he'd gotten in the past few days of exposure to the damp outdoors. His books and papers were scattered on the coffee table in front of him. Dale had drifted off in the middle of his psychology reading again.
His doorbell rang, and he jerked awake. "Whuh?" he asked, with all the coherency of someone who's just been jolted out of sleep by an annoying noise. The doorbell rang again.
"Coming," he muttered, and rolled off the couch. Unfortunately, his legs weren't quite awake yet, so he crawled from the living room to his front door, then pulled himself up to a standing position by levering his weight with the doorknob. He glanced through the peephole.
A small, nerdy-looking guy stood outside Dale's apartment. He was holding a clipboard in one hand, and a pen in the other.
Dale rotated his shoulders and cracked his back, then drew himself up to his full height. If it was a census taker that had interrupted his mid-study nap, he'd have another thing coming. He unbolted and opened the door. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"Telegram," the guy said, and then looked up at Dale and gulped. "For Mr. Dale Sizemore." He handed the pen and clipboard to Dale. "Please initial here, sir."
Dale scrawled his initials on the line, handed the clipboard back. Leaned against the frame of the door while the guy initialed next to his initials.
"Here you go, sir. Have a nice day." The guy all but fled down the hallway to the elevator.
Dale closed the door and leaned up against it. He ripped open the envelope, wondering who would send him a telegram. Especially given that his telephone number was hardly top-secret information.
He unfolded the slip of paper that fell out of the envelope. The paper crinkled in his fingers.
Put the chili pot on STOP
Before he'd even gotten official word that he was getting a few days' leave, Kurt had booked a flight to Chicago. When one of his commanding officers had given him the news a few hours later, he'd simply smiled and nodded.
Now he was standing in front of Dale's building, apartment number in hand, wondering if it wasn't too late to catch a bus back to Georgia. He paced back and forth a few times, and had finally made his mind up to find a hotel and tour the city -- to leave Dale alone -- when the main door of the building opened behind him, and he heard a group of people walk out.
One voice among the group made him stop short and turn slowly around.
The group walked past him, chattering animatedly. Kurt watched Dale, obviously engrossed in the story he was telling, as he gestured wildly and grinned. He closed his eyes and started walking, with the intention of hailing a cab. It'd started to rain a bit, and he didn't want to stand around in waterlogged clothes. Stepped up to the curb. Hefted his ruck and --
"Kurt?"
Something inside him squeezed tightly, then relaxed. He took a deep, steadying breath, and calmly turned his head toward Dale. "Hi."
"I thought that was you," Dale said. His gaze flickered over Kurt's face. "I got your telegram. It took me awhile to realize who it was from."
Kurt huffed a little laugh. "That's why I sent it," he said. "That, and telegrams are damn expensive these days." He glanced down at the wet pavement. "Listen, I'm going to go find a hotel. Maybe we can meet up la -- "
"No, you're not, I've got a guest room," Dale said. "Well, more like guest closet. But it fits a bed, and a dresser. My parents made sure to get me a place that had somewhere they could stay if they visited. And, actually, they haven't set foot inside my place since I was finished moving in." He grinned, then turned back to his friends. "Change of plans, guys. We can order in, if you want -- I've got a guest."
Kurt shifted his grip on his ruck. "You don’t have to change your plans," he said.
A guy, black haired and a little taller than Dale, spoke up. "We were going for pizza. You can come along if you want."
"We'll get delivery," Dale said again.
"So, Dale," said one of the women in the group. "You didn't introduce us to your friend." She looked Kurt up and down with a predatory glint in her eyes, and approached him, hand extended. "I'm Angela. Who might you be?"
Dale suddenly appeared between them. "Ange," he said, "this is Kurt. We were stationed together six months ago."
Kurt took Angela's hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Angela," he said. He tugged his hand from her grip when she seemed reluctant to let go.
"Let's go back inside," Dale suggested. "We can do the same thing in my apartment as we're doing out here, only it'll be less wet." He led the way back inside, then stopped Kurt with a hand on his shoulder as he walked through the front door of the building. "Let me carry that for you," he said, and pointed at Kurt's ruck.
Kurt handed the bag over without protest. "I'm going to take the stairs. They're more... solid than an elevator."
Dale frowned. "I'll come with y -- "
"Ride up with your friends. I'll meet you up there."
"Kurt -- " Dale began, but he was already through the door and in the stairwell. He sighed and jogged slightly to catch up with his friends.
On the stairs, Kurt was muttering to himself. "The reason I didn't call or write is that I was afraid that if I heard from you, I'd go AWOL and catch the nearest Greyhound to Chicago. No, too direct. I didn't call because my phone was broken. Too transparent." He shook his head, and checked the sign next to the door he'd just passed. Fourth floor, seven to go.
"I didn't call or write because I forgot. Because I thought you'd be better off without me. Because the underlying meaning of Don't Ask, Don't Tell is Don't Get Caught Having Phone Sex With Your Sometime Male Lover, Who Is Also A Soldier. I didn't contact you, because you don't deserve the shit that would've come down the pipe if they'd found out about what happened in Somalia." He stepped onto the eleventh-floor landing.
Dale was leaning against the frame of the door. "I don't really care why you didn't call or write to me," he said. Then he grabbed Kurt by the shoulders, shoved him against the wall, and leaned into him until his breath fanned Kurt's face. "Because if I did, then I'd have to start making my own excuses."
"Well then," Kurt asked, "where does that leave us?"
"Dale?"
Dale stepped back, just as the dark-haired guy leaned out into the stairwell. "Hey, Rob," he said. "We were just coming in."
"Good," Rob replied, "because someone's gotta cast another vote against Ange's Hawaiian." He slung an arm around Dale's shoulders.
"Coming, Kurt?" Dale asked as Rob dragged him into the hallway.
Kurt stood there for a moment. "Not anytime soon, I don't think."
"... and then he said, 'But this is my car!' He looked like he was about to cry," Dale crowed.
Angela and Rob screamed with laughter and leaned against Dale on the sofa. Rob buried his face in Dale's shoulder, and wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes with the corner of Dale's shirt.
Kurt smiled politely.
"Anyone for more pizza?" Angela asked, after she'd composed herself somewhat. The three men made faces. She'd won out on the Hawaiian toppings. "More for me, then." She got up with her paper plate in hand, and flounced into the kitchen.
"So, Kurt," Rob said. He leaned back against the cushions of the couch. "What do you do? I know you and Dale served together, but he was kind of vague when it came to your job."
"I'm a medic," Kurt said shortly.
"Really? That's interesting," Rob said. He shifted on the couch so his leg was pressed up against Dale's. "What types of things are medics required to do?"
Dale glanced at Kurt, then back at Rob. "Medical things," he joked. "He can wrap and set a sprained wrist in less than two minutes," he said, and wiggled the fingers of his now-healed left hand. "Doesn't even strangle his patients when he has to do it a second time within twenty-four hours." His gaze drifted back to Kurt, who still looked slightly murderous. "Kurt," he said, and stood up. "Let me show you where you'll be sleeping." He motioned for Kurt to follow him. He sighed in relief when Kurt got to his feet and walked with him. It wouldn't do for him to pop Rob's head off like a dandelion.
They passed the counter, where Angela was happily chewing a slice of pizza. "Be right back," Dale said. "I'm playing tour guide."
Kurt picked up his ruck, where he'd dropped it next to the counter, and followed Dale down a narrow, dim hallway. He really didn't like Rob, and told Dale as much when they were out of earshot. "So, your friend Rob is... and no offense meant to you by my saying this... a fucking dick."
"... dating Angela," Dale said at the same time, and waited for Kurt to stop muttering.
"Where the fuck does he get off? 'Really? That's interesting'. Horse shit. I fucking hate small talk. It's so condescending. He's dating Angela?" Kurt blinked.
"And he has been," Dale said, "for two years. He likes fucking with people. He figures them out, and then he plays with them."
"My first impression of him still stands, then," Kurt said. He stepped closer to Dale. "Weren't you going to show me where I'm staying?"
"Yeah," said Dale. "Behind me." Then he shoved open the door in front of him, and pulled Kurt through. "This is the bathroom. It's got a toilet, and a sink, and a shower -- " Here, he reached over and shut the door firmly. " -- and a lock on the door."
Kurt dropped his ruck and wound his fingers through Dale's grown-out hair, then tugged him forward and sucked down on his lower lip. The little, muffled whimper that vibrated against his mouth had Kurt swirling his tongue between Dale's lips, seeking and finding Dale's own.
Dale's hands flew out to the side, and then his arms wound around Kurt's torso. He gave as good as he got, pulling at Kurt's clothing and pressing his fingertips into the taut muscles of Kurt's shoulders. His tongue circled around and slid along Kurt's and his fingers splayed out on Kurt's lower back, and then shoved down into his jeans.
Panting, Kurt broke the kiss and licked a broad stripe along Dale's throat, then exhaled against the moist skin. His hands slid down over Dale's shoulders when he felt his full-body shudder. "You were a lot less aggressive six months ago," he murmured against Dale's left ear. He worried the lobe with his teeth, and was gratified with a sharp gasp from Dale.
"Six months ago," Dale replied, "I had never done anything with another guy, and I only had one good hand." He cupped Kurt's ass in both palms; lifted and squeezed until their bodies locked even more tightly into place against each other.
Kurt wrapped his arms around Dale's head and licked into his mouth, squirming against Dale's hands when they maneuvered past his briefs and encountered the bare skin beneath. He shuffled forward blindly until Dale was pressed against the door, and then twisted a hand down between them to cup and rub the swelling ridge of Dale's cock through his pants. "Do you have -- "
"Mmph?" Dale moved his head back the scant distance that was allowed him by Kurt's arms. "Do I have what?" He licked Kurt's lips.
"Condom. Do you have a condom?" Kurt pushed his ass back against Dale's hands, and then rocked forward.
Dale pressed a kiss to the corner of Kurt's mouth. "... No," he said.
"Okay," Kurt said. "That's okay. Just -- you're not fucking me without one. But..." He deftly undid Dale's zipper and plunged a hand inside. "Hmm. Déjà vu..."
In the living room, Rob and Angela were snuggling when a sudden, distinct thud from the bathroom caused them to sit up. The thud was followed by a groan, and both of them burst out laughing.
"It's about damn time," Angela snickered. "Should we leave a note, or call him later?" She stood up and gathered their plates and napkins.
"We'll call him. It's much better to embarrass him over the phone. That way, we can sort of witness it." Rob stood as well and headed for the door, waiting for Angela, who threw away the used paper goods.
She arrived at his side and pecked him on the lips. "Let's leave the gentlemen their privacy, shall we?" Then she grinned at him and they walked out of the apartment.
A strangled moan echoed off the ceramic-tiled walls of the bathroom as Kurt's hand wrapped firmly around Dale's cock and he began to stroke it rhythmically. He rubbed his denim-covered crotch against Dale's thigh and sucked on the underside of his jaw. "You're so fucking hot," he murmured.
"I want to jerk you off," Dale whispered back against Kurt's cheek. There was a blur of motion, and Kurt found himself pressed up against the cool tiles, while Dale grasped the waistband of his jeans on either side and yanked. The buttons popped open in quick succession, all in a row.
"Neat trick," Kurt said. He slanted his lips over Dale's and flicked his tongue against Dale's palate, letting him swallow his rough moan when long, warm fingers curled over his dick. He matched his own hand's movements with Dale's strokes on his shaft, up and down and updown and up up up, until they were standing on their toes, bodies taut with anticipation of coming.
And when they came, spilling hot and sticky over their fingers and panting against each other's mouths, their tongues met in a wet slide, and drew them in for another long kiss.
As they sat sprawled on the bathroom floor, afterglow curled around Kurt and Dale, warming them like a blanket and making them reluctant to stop touching, stop kissing. Their hands wandered here and there, with no real aim, and they took a bit of pleasure in petting each other. They ran their fingers through hair that hadn't been there the last time they'd seen one another, lips dropping small kisses.
They both knew that to continue sitting here, and basking in the warmth of their post-orgasmic haze made this more than just a couple hot fucks. Neither could bring himself to move, nor to care.
Finally, Kurt broke the relative silence. "I saw a drug store a block away. Up for another round?"
Now it was arousal that was tingling in Dale's groin and heating in his belly. "Yeah," he said.
"Jesus Christ, you're thirty-one. Calm the fuck down," Kurt told himself quietly as he stepped up to the condoms rack in the drug store. He bounced lightly on his feet, glancing at the different brands of prophylactics. After a moment's deliberation, he reached into the rack and swept the entire selection of one of the brands into his shopping basket, then tossed a bottle of lubricant on top. He nodded, satisfied, and made for the checkout counter.
Then returned to the condom rack scant seconds later, to pick up two more bottles of lube and drop them in the basket.
At the counter, he dumped the contents of the basket out and carefully put in place his best blank expression while the clerk blinked and choked back a laugh as a few boxes of condoms slid over the edge. Held the expression as he noticed the clerk counting under her breath, while scanning the packages and placing them in a paper bag. Calmly handed over the cash required, and left the store.
Only then, did he laugh.
When he arrived on the eleventh-floor landing this time, Dale wasn't waiting for him. Kurt shifted his grip on his paper bag and headed down the hallway to Dale's apartment, where he found the door unlocked. He locked and bolted it behind him, and paused when he heard embarrassed laughter from the living room.
"I do not," Dale complained, when Rob and Angela tag-team teased him. "I have to go, I just heard him come in."
Oh, gotta run to your fella?
"I'm not going to dignify that with a response," Dale said. "I'll talk to you guys later. Bye." Then he hung up and disconnected the phone cord from the wall.
Kurt entered the living room, bag in hand. "Hey," he said. He set the bag down and eased down into the same easy chair he'd claimed when he first arrived. "I may have gotten a little carried away with my shopping." He grinned and waved vaguely in the direction of the bag.
Dale crossed the room and crouched next to the bag, then peered inside. He let out a low whistle. "Damn. Expecting an orgy? I mean, I could call Rob and Angela, invite them back over, if you want..." He moved over so he was sitting on his heels next to Kurt's easy chair.
"Maybe some other time," Kurt said. He swallowed, and rubbed his throat. His lashes lowered halfway as Dale slowly leaned up and into him. He rubbed his throat again. "Could I have a glass of water?"
Dale blinked. "What?"
"Sorry," Kurt said. "It's just that I get dehydrated easily."
"Sure," Dale said, and stood. He left the room, and Kurt heard the sound of running water and the clinking of glassware.
Kurt swung a leg over the arm of the easy chair and sprawled out more comfortably. He tucked a thumb into one of his belt loops and spread his hand, absently drumming his fingertips against the inch of exposed skin at his midriff, where his shirt had ridden up. His eyes closed, and he took a few deep breaths.
When Dale returned, carrying two glasses filled nearly to the brim, he had to pause for a moment to admire the view. From the look of it, Kurt had succumbed to the comfy chair of doom, as Ange liked to call it. Like so many before him, he was asleep, sprawled all over the cushions like he owned the thing. Dale's gaze lingered at that strip of bare skin between the hem of Kurt's shirt and the waistband of his jeans. He smiled, and carefully stepped forward to place one glass of water on the coffee table.
He stopped his train of thought short when he caught himself thinking that it'd be nice if he could see this -- Kurt asleep in his home, his body language so open -- more than just the once.
The fact that Kurt was asleep was disappointing, because Dale really wanted to see how many of those condoms they could go through without taking a break. However, with him asleep, Dale could do a bit of reading for his classes. For some reason he couldn't -- wouldn't was perhaps more accurate -- place, he was reluctant to stop watching Kurt, so instead of reading in his bedroom, he brought his books out to the living room and sat cross-legged in front of his couch.
Fifteen minutes into his work, and the only sounds in the room were Kurt's soft breathing, and the light, sporadic scratching of pen-tip on paper. Dale's eyes lifted from the page and traced Kurt's sleeping form. A fist of want tightened in his gut.
Kurt had moved so his legs were spread wide, denim stretching over his lean thighs. His back was slightly arched, and his head lay on the edge of the backrest. His lips were softly parted.
It was difficult for Dale to drag his gaze back down to his books, and when he did, it was only moments before his eyes flicked back to Kurt again. Dale sighed and gave up on the homework.
In the easy chair, Kurt shifted and let loose a little, muffled moan. His shirt had ridden up more, revealing a wide strip of bare, flat belly that Dale's fingers tingled in anticipation of touching.
Dale picked up one of the water glasses and drained it in three gulps.
Kurt moaned again.
In about ten seconds, Dale was either going to leap over the coffee table and jump him, or he was going to unzip his fly so he didn't ruin his jeans. Another moan, and Dale practically sprinted to the kitchen to grab onto the counter, his knuckles white, in order to attempt to regain some semblance of control over his body.
The sharp scent of cumin and paprika brought Kurt back to awareness. His eyes fluttered open and he stretched decadently, arching his back and popping kinks out of his joints. He blinked bleariness away and looked slowly around the room. A smile barely curved his lips when he realized that the water he'd requested was sitting on a coaster on the coffee table.
He swung his leg off the armrest of the chair and sat up, then picked up the glass in front of him and took a few swallows. The smell of cooking food permeated his senses and he followed it into the kitchen, where Dale was busily chopping and frying meat and vegetables. A crock pot was on the counter, seemingly waiting to be plugged in, and a sealed can of beer sat next to it.
"You're actually making it," Kurt said. Then he walked calmly around the counter, grabbed Dale by the apron straps, and kissed him slowly.
Dale gave him a look, but smiled a little.
"I'm a soldier," Kurt quipped. "I'm meant to follow orders, and I'll be damned if Kiss the Cook isn't an order."
"Make yourself useful, soldier," Dale said, and passed Kurt a cutting board, knife, and two green peppers. "Chop chop."
"Yes, sir," Kurt said with all the seriousness he would put into responding to a commanding officer. Then he rinsed off the peppers in the sink and started cutting them in small, even pieces. "I didn't think you'd actually make chili, you know."
"And have you miss out on the Sizemore Secret Recipe?" Dale asked. He emptied the frying pan into the crock pot and tossed in some onions and hot peppers. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I say that because most people who try it once, say that it's enough hotness for their lifetime."
"Clever," Kurt commented. He set the centers of the peppers aside. "Where do you want this?" he asked, and motioned toward the cutting board.
"Frying pan," Dale said.
Kurt carefully brushed all the pepper pieces into the skillet, and then set the cutting board on the counter and watched Dale stir the vegetables in the pan with a wooden spoon. "So, this chili," he said after awhile, when Dale was transferring the fried vegetables to the crock pot and adding some other ingredients, including, much to Kurt's surprise, half the can of beer, "how long will it take to cook?"
Dale covered the pot and plugged it in, then set the temperature. "A few hours," he said.
Kurt stepped closer to him. "How many hours?" He ran a hand up under Dale's shirt, massaging his warm skin lightly.
"Um," said Dale, and he reached over and deliberately turned down the heat, "six." He leaned into the nimble fingers that untied the knot of his novelty apron, and closed his eyes when the neck-strap was whisked over his head.
"You know," Kurt said, "you never finished giving me the tour of your apartment. For example, I know the general direction of your bedroom, but I think just to be on the safe side, you'd better show me where it is, yourself." His fingers trailed down Dale's arm and he stepped backward. "Let me just get my purchases from earlier, and -- " he cut off as he was aggressively yanked back against Dale's body.
"You fucking tease," Dale muttered, and then he opened his mouth over Kurt's in an almost violent kiss. Their teeth clacked together, briefly and sharply, and then their tongues were battling in a slick dance of thrusting and parrying.
Kurt broke the kiss and swiped his tongue across Dale's lower lip. "I am not," he said. "I have every intention of following through." He tried to step away again, but Dale's arms, banded firmly around his waist, prevented him. "Dale?" he asked. "Do you want to fuck me?"
"God, yes," Dale breathed, and tilted his hips just so, rubbing against Kurt.
"Then let me go get the condoms and lube, and you can show me where your bed is."
Dale let go and touched his lips briefly. Kurt walked gingerly to the living room to retrieve his paper bag, the fading impression of Dale's cock tingling against his hip with each step.
Dale turned on his desk lamp and angled it away from the bed so it shone against the wall and cast the room in a soft glow. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his socks, balling them up and tossing them away, then tugged up his shirt. He heard the thud and crinkle of Kurt's bag on the floor just inside the door, and looked up in time for Kurt to still his hands, toss supplies toward the head of the bed, and pull him to his feet.
"I wanted to do that," Kurt said, and yanked Dale's shirt the rest of the way off. He tossed it behind him onto the floor, and made quick work of his own shirt. When Kurt started on Dale's fly, Dale reached down and flicked each button on Kurt's jeans open with a quick twist of his wrist.
Dale shoved Kurt's jeans and underwear down past his ass, finally free to fill his hands with the tight, round globes he'd been yearning for hours to fondle. He squeezed Kurt's ass gently, rewarded with a moan against his throat as Kurt squirmed against him. And then it was Dale's turn to moan, when Kurt dropped to his knees and pulled Dale's pants down with him.
Kurt pressed wet kisses down Dale's lightly hair-roughened thigh and swirled his tongue across long planes of muscle as he pushed Dale's pants down to his feet, urging him to step out of them. He felt the muscles of Dale's legs jump under his fingertips as he swept his hands back up them, slowly moving into a crouch and then standing as he kissed and licked his way back up Dale's body and stepped out of his own pants. "C'mere," he said, and pulled Dale in for a kiss. "Step back," he murmured against Dale's lips, then slid his tongue underneath Dale's.
Dale was naked, and Kurt was naked, and now Kurt was naked on top of Dale. Dale thought he might pass out from the pleasure. He pushed his hips up against Kurt's, moaned when their bare cocks pressed together and slid apart. Kurt was kissing his nipples now, flicking his tongue over them and biting them gently, and all Dale could do was to hold onto his shoulders and thrash. Hot waves of want clenched inside him, made his belly taut and his skin prickle with goose bumps. "Kurt," he whispered urgently. "Kurt, you're going to make me come."
"And then I'm going to make you hard again," Kurt replied. His lips skated over the twitching muscles of Dale's abdomen, and he buried his nose in the wiry hair that surrounded Dale's cock, inhaling deeply. Dale's scent made his nostrils flare and his dick throb, and he nuzzled deeper into Dale's groin, hoping to find the source of the salty, slightly tangy aroma. Dale's cock brushed his cheek, and he grasped it in one hand and began running a loose fist up and down, while his lips sought out Dale's heavy sac and he pressed tiny, moist kisses to the loose skin.
"Fuck," Dale muttered, and spread his legs wantonly. "Jesus, Kurt. Please."
Kurt's fist tightened slightly around Dale's shaft, his grip firmer as he began stroking faster. His tongue snaked out and ran up the seam between Dale's balls, and then he carefully took one of the pulsing, hairy globes into his mouth and sucked.
Dale arched right off the bed with a garbled moan, his come spilling messily over Kurt's fingers and onto his belly. And Kurt kept right on as if he hadn't just had one of the most intense orgasms of his life, stroking and sucking patiently while Dale's cock drooped, then twitched back to life. Dale let out a rasping laugh. Kurt hadn't been kidding about making him hard again, and he said as much.
"Why would I kid about something as serious as you, spread out, naked and hard in bed?" Kurt asked. He crawled up Dale's body, his cock dragging a thin, wavering line of moisture along Dale's skin. "I had to take the edge off for you. Do you remember what I did before you fucked me in that storage room on the base?" He nipped at the underside of Dale's jaw.
Dale drew him down for a kiss and curved his hand around the back of Kurt's neck, holding him close even when they broke apart. "Yes," he said, and leaned up to briefly kiss him again.
"Good," Kurt said. He pressed his lips to the corner of Dale's mouth. "I want you to do it for me this time." He moved off Dale's body and reached for the tube of KY, then handed it to Dale and stretched out on his belly.
"I don't know what to -- "
Kurt craned his neck and looked at Dale, who had opened the tube and was fidgeting slightly. "Put some on your fingers and rub them together to warm it up," he said.
Dale squeezed a bit of the slippery gel onto his fingertips and moved it around experimentally, then more purposefully. He set the tube aside, and shifted forward so he was kneeling close to Kurt.
"Now rub your fingers down between my cheeks," Kurt said, and gasped into the pillow he had wrapped his arms around, when Dale did as he asked. "Make sure you've spread the lube around a little, and then push your index finger inside." He squirmed under Dale's touch. "Fuck. Just like that. Fuck me with it."
"Does that feel good?" Dale asked, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity. He pulled his finger slowly back out, and then pushed it in again, marveling at how hot and tight Kurt was inside. His cock twitched and the head got wetter.
"Feels great," Kurt said. "It'll feel better when you -- fuck, put another finger in -- when you're fucking me." He ground his hips down against the mattress and pulled one leg up to the side to give Dale easier access. Dale continued to stretch and prepare Kurt, until Kurt stopped him with a firm hand on his wrist. "Put on a condom, and slick it up, then get the fuck inside me."
"You're awfully pushy for someone with another guy's fingers up his ass," Dale commented.
"Dale," Kurt said, "please. Just fuck me." He thrust against the bed when Dale eased his fingers out of him. "Please."
Dale tore open the condom wrapper with suddenly unsteady hands and rolled it down his shaft and coated it with lube, then eased himself in behind Kurt and lined himself up carefully. He pushed slowly in, closing his eyes and panting.
Kurt pressed back against him with a sigh, turning his head so his cheek rested against the pillow as Dale lowered himself until Kurt felt his chest brushing against his back. "Now," Kurt murmured, and Dale drew back his hips, then thrust in just hard enough to rock them both forward. Kurt followed the easy rhythm that Dale set, breathing slowly through flared nostrils and squeezing his eyes shut. He moaned softly. "Feels so good..."
Dale's forehead pressed to the side of Kurt's neck as he rocked against Kurt's ass. He had to keep a tight rein on his control, knowing somehow that this was the pace Kurt wanted when all he, himself wanted to do was to look down their bodies, to watch himself fucking Kurt, and to make the whole room rattle with every thrust.
"You can fuck me hard, if you want to," Kurt said, then, and that was it for Dale's control. Kurt fisted the sheets as Dale hauled him up to his knees, grabbed his hips, and started to piston his hips like Kurt had known he wanted to do. He dipped his back and pushed his ass up, unable to help the moans and grunts that issued forth as the bed rocked, and the headboard beat against the wall, and Kurt jolted forward with each and every one of Dale's hard, fast thrusts.
Dale's hands slid up to Kurt's shoulders, then back down. His balls throbbed and tightened, and he reached under Kurt to jerk him off. "Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath. He shifted the angle of his thrusts a bit, and Kurt let out an animalistic cry. Fingers wet with semen, hips pressed tightly against Kurt's ass, Dale's eyes rolled back and he came with a gasp.
He rolled onto his side, pulling Kurt with him, and panted hard against Kurt's shoulder. His balls throbbed once, pleasantly, in the aftershocks of orgasm.
Kurt turned his head to look at him. Dale nuzzled against his cheek, then reached down and guided himself carefully out. He tossed the condom in the trash can next to his bed and rolled Kurt onto his back, then propped himself up on one elbow, and leaned in to kiss him. Then he draped himself across Kurt's body, tugged up the sheet, and closed his eyes, a tiny smile on his face.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Kurt 'Doc' Schmid/Dale Sizemore
Summary: Kurt gets word that he's got leave. Sequel to " Five-Alarm."
Author's Notes: I blame the extra-longness of this on perseph2hades, who baited me with pictures of mouthwatering men, the hussy. xmirax gets a cookie for being so excited about this fic, even though she's never seen the movie. And lionflame gets mad props for freaking out more than I did when I lost the first three pages of this. This is not a Valentine's Day fic, although I won't smack you if you take it as such.
TELEGRAM
The air was cool and moist with melting snow, and it soaked in to the very bones of anyone daring enough to go outside without a coat. Sprawled on the couch of his eleventh-floor apartment, Dale nursed a slight cold that he'd gotten in the past few days of exposure to the damp outdoors. His books and papers were scattered on the coffee table in front of him. Dale had drifted off in the middle of his psychology reading again.
His doorbell rang, and he jerked awake. "Whuh?" he asked, with all the coherency of someone who's just been jolted out of sleep by an annoying noise. The doorbell rang again.
"Coming," he muttered, and rolled off the couch. Unfortunately, his legs weren't quite awake yet, so he crawled from the living room to his front door, then pulled himself up to a standing position by levering his weight with the doorknob. He glanced through the peephole.
A small, nerdy-looking guy stood outside Dale's apartment. He was holding a clipboard in one hand, and a pen in the other.
Dale rotated his shoulders and cracked his back, then drew himself up to his full height. If it was a census taker that had interrupted his mid-study nap, he'd have another thing coming. He unbolted and opened the door. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"Telegram," the guy said, and then looked up at Dale and gulped. "For Mr. Dale Sizemore." He handed the pen and clipboard to Dale. "Please initial here, sir."
Dale scrawled his initials on the line, handed the clipboard back. Leaned against the frame of the door while the guy initialed next to his initials.
"Here you go, sir. Have a nice day." The guy all but fled down the hallway to the elevator.
Dale closed the door and leaned up against it. He ripped open the envelope, wondering who would send him a telegram. Especially given that his telephone number was hardly top-secret information.
He unfolded the slip of paper that fell out of the envelope. The paper crinkled in his fingers.
Put the chili pot on STOP
Before he'd even gotten official word that he was getting a few days' leave, Kurt had booked a flight to Chicago. When one of his commanding officers had given him the news a few hours later, he'd simply smiled and nodded.
Now he was standing in front of Dale's building, apartment number in hand, wondering if it wasn't too late to catch a bus back to Georgia. He paced back and forth a few times, and had finally made his mind up to find a hotel and tour the city -- to leave Dale alone -- when the main door of the building opened behind him, and he heard a group of people walk out.
One voice among the group made him stop short and turn slowly around.
The group walked past him, chattering animatedly. Kurt watched Dale, obviously engrossed in the story he was telling, as he gestured wildly and grinned. He closed his eyes and started walking, with the intention of hailing a cab. It'd started to rain a bit, and he didn't want to stand around in waterlogged clothes. Stepped up to the curb. Hefted his ruck and --
"Kurt?"
Something inside him squeezed tightly, then relaxed. He took a deep, steadying breath, and calmly turned his head toward Dale. "Hi."
"I thought that was you," Dale said. His gaze flickered over Kurt's face. "I got your telegram. It took me awhile to realize who it was from."
Kurt huffed a little laugh. "That's why I sent it," he said. "That, and telegrams are damn expensive these days." He glanced down at the wet pavement. "Listen, I'm going to go find a hotel. Maybe we can meet up la -- "
"No, you're not, I've got a guest room," Dale said. "Well, more like guest closet. But it fits a bed, and a dresser. My parents made sure to get me a place that had somewhere they could stay if they visited. And, actually, they haven't set foot inside my place since I was finished moving in." He grinned, then turned back to his friends. "Change of plans, guys. We can order in, if you want -- I've got a guest."
Kurt shifted his grip on his ruck. "You don’t have to change your plans," he said.
A guy, black haired and a little taller than Dale, spoke up. "We were going for pizza. You can come along if you want."
"We'll get delivery," Dale said again.
"So, Dale," said one of the women in the group. "You didn't introduce us to your friend." She looked Kurt up and down with a predatory glint in her eyes, and approached him, hand extended. "I'm Angela. Who might you be?"
Dale suddenly appeared between them. "Ange," he said, "this is Kurt. We were stationed together six months ago."
Kurt took Angela's hand and shook it. "Nice to meet you, Angela," he said. He tugged his hand from her grip when she seemed reluctant to let go.
"Let's go back inside," Dale suggested. "We can do the same thing in my apartment as we're doing out here, only it'll be less wet." He led the way back inside, then stopped Kurt with a hand on his shoulder as he walked through the front door of the building. "Let me carry that for you," he said, and pointed at Kurt's ruck.
Kurt handed the bag over without protest. "I'm going to take the stairs. They're more... solid than an elevator."
Dale frowned. "I'll come with y -- "
"Ride up with your friends. I'll meet you up there."
"Kurt -- " Dale began, but he was already through the door and in the stairwell. He sighed and jogged slightly to catch up with his friends.
On the stairs, Kurt was muttering to himself. "The reason I didn't call or write is that I was afraid that if I heard from you, I'd go AWOL and catch the nearest Greyhound to Chicago. No, too direct. I didn't call because my phone was broken. Too transparent." He shook his head, and checked the sign next to the door he'd just passed. Fourth floor, seven to go.
"I didn't call or write because I forgot. Because I thought you'd be better off without me. Because the underlying meaning of Don't Ask, Don't Tell is Don't Get Caught Having Phone Sex With Your Sometime Male Lover, Who Is Also A Soldier. I didn't contact you, because you don't deserve the shit that would've come down the pipe if they'd found out about what happened in Somalia." He stepped onto the eleventh-floor landing.
Dale was leaning against the frame of the door. "I don't really care why you didn't call or write to me," he said. Then he grabbed Kurt by the shoulders, shoved him against the wall, and leaned into him until his breath fanned Kurt's face. "Because if I did, then I'd have to start making my own excuses."
"Well then," Kurt asked, "where does that leave us?"
"Dale?"
Dale stepped back, just as the dark-haired guy leaned out into the stairwell. "Hey, Rob," he said. "We were just coming in."
"Good," Rob replied, "because someone's gotta cast another vote against Ange's Hawaiian." He slung an arm around Dale's shoulders.
"Coming, Kurt?" Dale asked as Rob dragged him into the hallway.
Kurt stood there for a moment. "Not anytime soon, I don't think."
"... and then he said, 'But this is my car!' He looked like he was about to cry," Dale crowed.
Angela and Rob screamed with laughter and leaned against Dale on the sofa. Rob buried his face in Dale's shoulder, and wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes with the corner of Dale's shirt.
Kurt smiled politely.
"Anyone for more pizza?" Angela asked, after she'd composed herself somewhat. The three men made faces. She'd won out on the Hawaiian toppings. "More for me, then." She got up with her paper plate in hand, and flounced into the kitchen.
"So, Kurt," Rob said. He leaned back against the cushions of the couch. "What do you do? I know you and Dale served together, but he was kind of vague when it came to your job."
"I'm a medic," Kurt said shortly.
"Really? That's interesting," Rob said. He shifted on the couch so his leg was pressed up against Dale's. "What types of things are medics required to do?"
Dale glanced at Kurt, then back at Rob. "Medical things," he joked. "He can wrap and set a sprained wrist in less than two minutes," he said, and wiggled the fingers of his now-healed left hand. "Doesn't even strangle his patients when he has to do it a second time within twenty-four hours." His gaze drifted back to Kurt, who still looked slightly murderous. "Kurt," he said, and stood up. "Let me show you where you'll be sleeping." He motioned for Kurt to follow him. He sighed in relief when Kurt got to his feet and walked with him. It wouldn't do for him to pop Rob's head off like a dandelion.
They passed the counter, where Angela was happily chewing a slice of pizza. "Be right back," Dale said. "I'm playing tour guide."
Kurt picked up his ruck, where he'd dropped it next to the counter, and followed Dale down a narrow, dim hallway. He really didn't like Rob, and told Dale as much when they were out of earshot. "So, your friend Rob is... and no offense meant to you by my saying this... a fucking dick."
"... dating Angela," Dale said at the same time, and waited for Kurt to stop muttering.
"Where the fuck does he get off? 'Really? That's interesting'. Horse shit. I fucking hate small talk. It's so condescending. He's dating Angela?" Kurt blinked.
"And he has been," Dale said, "for two years. He likes fucking with people. He figures them out, and then he plays with them."
"My first impression of him still stands, then," Kurt said. He stepped closer to Dale. "Weren't you going to show me where I'm staying?"
"Yeah," said Dale. "Behind me." Then he shoved open the door in front of him, and pulled Kurt through. "This is the bathroom. It's got a toilet, and a sink, and a shower -- " Here, he reached over and shut the door firmly. " -- and a lock on the door."
Kurt dropped his ruck and wound his fingers through Dale's grown-out hair, then tugged him forward and sucked down on his lower lip. The little, muffled whimper that vibrated against his mouth had Kurt swirling his tongue between Dale's lips, seeking and finding Dale's own.
Dale's hands flew out to the side, and then his arms wound around Kurt's torso. He gave as good as he got, pulling at Kurt's clothing and pressing his fingertips into the taut muscles of Kurt's shoulders. His tongue circled around and slid along Kurt's and his fingers splayed out on Kurt's lower back, and then shoved down into his jeans.
Panting, Kurt broke the kiss and licked a broad stripe along Dale's throat, then exhaled against the moist skin. His hands slid down over Dale's shoulders when he felt his full-body shudder. "You were a lot less aggressive six months ago," he murmured against Dale's left ear. He worried the lobe with his teeth, and was gratified with a sharp gasp from Dale.
"Six months ago," Dale replied, "I had never done anything with another guy, and I only had one good hand." He cupped Kurt's ass in both palms; lifted and squeezed until their bodies locked even more tightly into place against each other.
Kurt wrapped his arms around Dale's head and licked into his mouth, squirming against Dale's hands when they maneuvered past his briefs and encountered the bare skin beneath. He shuffled forward blindly until Dale was pressed against the door, and then twisted a hand down between them to cup and rub the swelling ridge of Dale's cock through his pants. "Do you have -- "
"Mmph?" Dale moved his head back the scant distance that was allowed him by Kurt's arms. "Do I have what?" He licked Kurt's lips.
"Condom. Do you have a condom?" Kurt pushed his ass back against Dale's hands, and then rocked forward.
Dale pressed a kiss to the corner of Kurt's mouth. "... No," he said.
"Okay," Kurt said. "That's okay. Just -- you're not fucking me without one. But..." He deftly undid Dale's zipper and plunged a hand inside. "Hmm. Déjà vu..."
In the living room, Rob and Angela were snuggling when a sudden, distinct thud from the bathroom caused them to sit up. The thud was followed by a groan, and both of them burst out laughing.
"It's about damn time," Angela snickered. "Should we leave a note, or call him later?" She stood up and gathered their plates and napkins.
"We'll call him. It's much better to embarrass him over the phone. That way, we can sort of witness it." Rob stood as well and headed for the door, waiting for Angela, who threw away the used paper goods.
She arrived at his side and pecked him on the lips. "Let's leave the gentlemen their privacy, shall we?" Then she grinned at him and they walked out of the apartment.
A strangled moan echoed off the ceramic-tiled walls of the bathroom as Kurt's hand wrapped firmly around Dale's cock and he began to stroke it rhythmically. He rubbed his denim-covered crotch against Dale's thigh and sucked on the underside of his jaw. "You're so fucking hot," he murmured.
"I want to jerk you off," Dale whispered back against Kurt's cheek. There was a blur of motion, and Kurt found himself pressed up against the cool tiles, while Dale grasped the waistband of his jeans on either side and yanked. The buttons popped open in quick succession, all in a row.
"Neat trick," Kurt said. He slanted his lips over Dale's and flicked his tongue against Dale's palate, letting him swallow his rough moan when long, warm fingers curled over his dick. He matched his own hand's movements with Dale's strokes on his shaft, up and down and updown and up up up, until they were standing on their toes, bodies taut with anticipation of coming.
And when they came, spilling hot and sticky over their fingers and panting against each other's mouths, their tongues met in a wet slide, and drew them in for another long kiss.
As they sat sprawled on the bathroom floor, afterglow curled around Kurt and Dale, warming them like a blanket and making them reluctant to stop touching, stop kissing. Their hands wandered here and there, with no real aim, and they took a bit of pleasure in petting each other. They ran their fingers through hair that hadn't been there the last time they'd seen one another, lips dropping small kisses.
They both knew that to continue sitting here, and basking in the warmth of their post-orgasmic haze made this more than just a couple hot fucks. Neither could bring himself to move, nor to care.
Finally, Kurt broke the relative silence. "I saw a drug store a block away. Up for another round?"
Now it was arousal that was tingling in Dale's groin and heating in his belly. "Yeah," he said.
"Jesus Christ, you're thirty-one. Calm the fuck down," Kurt told himself quietly as he stepped up to the condoms rack in the drug store. He bounced lightly on his feet, glancing at the different brands of prophylactics. After a moment's deliberation, he reached into the rack and swept the entire selection of one of the brands into his shopping basket, then tossed a bottle of lubricant on top. He nodded, satisfied, and made for the checkout counter.
Then returned to the condom rack scant seconds later, to pick up two more bottles of lube and drop them in the basket.
At the counter, he dumped the contents of the basket out and carefully put in place his best blank expression while the clerk blinked and choked back a laugh as a few boxes of condoms slid over the edge. Held the expression as he noticed the clerk counting under her breath, while scanning the packages and placing them in a paper bag. Calmly handed over the cash required, and left the store.
Only then, did he laugh.
When he arrived on the eleventh-floor landing this time, Dale wasn't waiting for him. Kurt shifted his grip on his paper bag and headed down the hallway to Dale's apartment, where he found the door unlocked. He locked and bolted it behind him, and paused when he heard embarrassed laughter from the living room.
"I do not," Dale complained, when Rob and Angela tag-team teased him. "I have to go, I just heard him come in."
Oh, gotta run to your fella?
"I'm not going to dignify that with a response," Dale said. "I'll talk to you guys later. Bye." Then he hung up and disconnected the phone cord from the wall.
Kurt entered the living room, bag in hand. "Hey," he said. He set the bag down and eased down into the same easy chair he'd claimed when he first arrived. "I may have gotten a little carried away with my shopping." He grinned and waved vaguely in the direction of the bag.
Dale crossed the room and crouched next to the bag, then peered inside. He let out a low whistle. "Damn. Expecting an orgy? I mean, I could call Rob and Angela, invite them back over, if you want..." He moved over so he was sitting on his heels next to Kurt's easy chair.
"Maybe some other time," Kurt said. He swallowed, and rubbed his throat. His lashes lowered halfway as Dale slowly leaned up and into him. He rubbed his throat again. "Could I have a glass of water?"
Dale blinked. "What?"
"Sorry," Kurt said. "It's just that I get dehydrated easily."
"Sure," Dale said, and stood. He left the room, and Kurt heard the sound of running water and the clinking of glassware.
Kurt swung a leg over the arm of the easy chair and sprawled out more comfortably. He tucked a thumb into one of his belt loops and spread his hand, absently drumming his fingertips against the inch of exposed skin at his midriff, where his shirt had ridden up. His eyes closed, and he took a few deep breaths.
When Dale returned, carrying two glasses filled nearly to the brim, he had to pause for a moment to admire the view. From the look of it, Kurt had succumbed to the comfy chair of doom, as Ange liked to call it. Like so many before him, he was asleep, sprawled all over the cushions like he owned the thing. Dale's gaze lingered at that strip of bare skin between the hem of Kurt's shirt and the waistband of his jeans. He smiled, and carefully stepped forward to place one glass of water on the coffee table.
He stopped his train of thought short when he caught himself thinking that it'd be nice if he could see this -- Kurt asleep in his home, his body language so open -- more than just the once.
The fact that Kurt was asleep was disappointing, because Dale really wanted to see how many of those condoms they could go through without taking a break. However, with him asleep, Dale could do a bit of reading for his classes. For some reason he couldn't -- wouldn't was perhaps more accurate -- place, he was reluctant to stop watching Kurt, so instead of reading in his bedroom, he brought his books out to the living room and sat cross-legged in front of his couch.
Fifteen minutes into his work, and the only sounds in the room were Kurt's soft breathing, and the light, sporadic scratching of pen-tip on paper. Dale's eyes lifted from the page and traced Kurt's sleeping form. A fist of want tightened in his gut.
Kurt had moved so his legs were spread wide, denim stretching over his lean thighs. His back was slightly arched, and his head lay on the edge of the backrest. His lips were softly parted.
It was difficult for Dale to drag his gaze back down to his books, and when he did, it was only moments before his eyes flicked back to Kurt again. Dale sighed and gave up on the homework.
In the easy chair, Kurt shifted and let loose a little, muffled moan. His shirt had ridden up more, revealing a wide strip of bare, flat belly that Dale's fingers tingled in anticipation of touching.
Dale picked up one of the water glasses and drained it in three gulps.
Kurt moaned again.
In about ten seconds, Dale was either going to leap over the coffee table and jump him, or he was going to unzip his fly so he didn't ruin his jeans. Another moan, and Dale practically sprinted to the kitchen to grab onto the counter, his knuckles white, in order to attempt to regain some semblance of control over his body.
The sharp scent of cumin and paprika brought Kurt back to awareness. His eyes fluttered open and he stretched decadently, arching his back and popping kinks out of his joints. He blinked bleariness away and looked slowly around the room. A smile barely curved his lips when he realized that the water he'd requested was sitting on a coaster on the coffee table.
He swung his leg off the armrest of the chair and sat up, then picked up the glass in front of him and took a few swallows. The smell of cooking food permeated his senses and he followed it into the kitchen, where Dale was busily chopping and frying meat and vegetables. A crock pot was on the counter, seemingly waiting to be plugged in, and a sealed can of beer sat next to it.
"You're actually making it," Kurt said. Then he walked calmly around the counter, grabbed Dale by the apron straps, and kissed him slowly.
Dale gave him a look, but smiled a little.
"I'm a soldier," Kurt quipped. "I'm meant to follow orders, and I'll be damned if Kiss the Cook isn't an order."
"Make yourself useful, soldier," Dale said, and passed Kurt a cutting board, knife, and two green peppers. "Chop chop."
"Yes, sir," Kurt said with all the seriousness he would put into responding to a commanding officer. Then he rinsed off the peppers in the sink and started cutting them in small, even pieces. "I didn't think you'd actually make chili, you know."
"And have you miss out on the Sizemore Secret Recipe?" Dale asked. He emptied the frying pan into the crock pot and tossed in some onions and hot peppers. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I say that because most people who try it once, say that it's enough hotness for their lifetime."
"Clever," Kurt commented. He set the centers of the peppers aside. "Where do you want this?" he asked, and motioned toward the cutting board.
"Frying pan," Dale said.
Kurt carefully brushed all the pepper pieces into the skillet, and then set the cutting board on the counter and watched Dale stir the vegetables in the pan with a wooden spoon. "So, this chili," he said after awhile, when Dale was transferring the fried vegetables to the crock pot and adding some other ingredients, including, much to Kurt's surprise, half the can of beer, "how long will it take to cook?"
Dale covered the pot and plugged it in, then set the temperature. "A few hours," he said.
Kurt stepped closer to him. "How many hours?" He ran a hand up under Dale's shirt, massaging his warm skin lightly.
"Um," said Dale, and he reached over and deliberately turned down the heat, "six." He leaned into the nimble fingers that untied the knot of his novelty apron, and closed his eyes when the neck-strap was whisked over his head.
"You know," Kurt said, "you never finished giving me the tour of your apartment. For example, I know the general direction of your bedroom, but I think just to be on the safe side, you'd better show me where it is, yourself." His fingers trailed down Dale's arm and he stepped backward. "Let me just get my purchases from earlier, and -- " he cut off as he was aggressively yanked back against Dale's body.
"You fucking tease," Dale muttered, and then he opened his mouth over Kurt's in an almost violent kiss. Their teeth clacked together, briefly and sharply, and then their tongues were battling in a slick dance of thrusting and parrying.
Kurt broke the kiss and swiped his tongue across Dale's lower lip. "I am not," he said. "I have every intention of following through." He tried to step away again, but Dale's arms, banded firmly around his waist, prevented him. "Dale?" he asked. "Do you want to fuck me?"
"God, yes," Dale breathed, and tilted his hips just so, rubbing against Kurt.
"Then let me go get the condoms and lube, and you can show me where your bed is."
Dale let go and touched his lips briefly. Kurt walked gingerly to the living room to retrieve his paper bag, the fading impression of Dale's cock tingling against his hip with each step.
Dale turned on his desk lamp and angled it away from the bed so it shone against the wall and cast the room in a soft glow. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off his socks, balling them up and tossing them away, then tugged up his shirt. He heard the thud and crinkle of Kurt's bag on the floor just inside the door, and looked up in time for Kurt to still his hands, toss supplies toward the head of the bed, and pull him to his feet.
"I wanted to do that," Kurt said, and yanked Dale's shirt the rest of the way off. He tossed it behind him onto the floor, and made quick work of his own shirt. When Kurt started on Dale's fly, Dale reached down and flicked each button on Kurt's jeans open with a quick twist of his wrist.
Dale shoved Kurt's jeans and underwear down past his ass, finally free to fill his hands with the tight, round globes he'd been yearning for hours to fondle. He squeezed Kurt's ass gently, rewarded with a moan against his throat as Kurt squirmed against him. And then it was Dale's turn to moan, when Kurt dropped to his knees and pulled Dale's pants down with him.
Kurt pressed wet kisses down Dale's lightly hair-roughened thigh and swirled his tongue across long planes of muscle as he pushed Dale's pants down to his feet, urging him to step out of them. He felt the muscles of Dale's legs jump under his fingertips as he swept his hands back up them, slowly moving into a crouch and then standing as he kissed and licked his way back up Dale's body and stepped out of his own pants. "C'mere," he said, and pulled Dale in for a kiss. "Step back," he murmured against Dale's lips, then slid his tongue underneath Dale's.
Dale was naked, and Kurt was naked, and now Kurt was naked on top of Dale. Dale thought he might pass out from the pleasure. He pushed his hips up against Kurt's, moaned when their bare cocks pressed together and slid apart. Kurt was kissing his nipples now, flicking his tongue over them and biting them gently, and all Dale could do was to hold onto his shoulders and thrash. Hot waves of want clenched inside him, made his belly taut and his skin prickle with goose bumps. "Kurt," he whispered urgently. "Kurt, you're going to make me come."
"And then I'm going to make you hard again," Kurt replied. His lips skated over the twitching muscles of Dale's abdomen, and he buried his nose in the wiry hair that surrounded Dale's cock, inhaling deeply. Dale's scent made his nostrils flare and his dick throb, and he nuzzled deeper into Dale's groin, hoping to find the source of the salty, slightly tangy aroma. Dale's cock brushed his cheek, and he grasped it in one hand and began running a loose fist up and down, while his lips sought out Dale's heavy sac and he pressed tiny, moist kisses to the loose skin.
"Fuck," Dale muttered, and spread his legs wantonly. "Jesus, Kurt. Please."
Kurt's fist tightened slightly around Dale's shaft, his grip firmer as he began stroking faster. His tongue snaked out and ran up the seam between Dale's balls, and then he carefully took one of the pulsing, hairy globes into his mouth and sucked.
Dale arched right off the bed with a garbled moan, his come spilling messily over Kurt's fingers and onto his belly. And Kurt kept right on as if he hadn't just had one of the most intense orgasms of his life, stroking and sucking patiently while Dale's cock drooped, then twitched back to life. Dale let out a rasping laugh. Kurt hadn't been kidding about making him hard again, and he said as much.
"Why would I kid about something as serious as you, spread out, naked and hard in bed?" Kurt asked. He crawled up Dale's body, his cock dragging a thin, wavering line of moisture along Dale's skin. "I had to take the edge off for you. Do you remember what I did before you fucked me in that storage room on the base?" He nipped at the underside of Dale's jaw.
Dale drew him down for a kiss and curved his hand around the back of Kurt's neck, holding him close even when they broke apart. "Yes," he said, and leaned up to briefly kiss him again.
"Good," Kurt said. He pressed his lips to the corner of Dale's mouth. "I want you to do it for me this time." He moved off Dale's body and reached for the tube of KY, then handed it to Dale and stretched out on his belly.
"I don't know what to -- "
Kurt craned his neck and looked at Dale, who had opened the tube and was fidgeting slightly. "Put some on your fingers and rub them together to warm it up," he said.
Dale squeezed a bit of the slippery gel onto his fingertips and moved it around experimentally, then more purposefully. He set the tube aside, and shifted forward so he was kneeling close to Kurt.
"Now rub your fingers down between my cheeks," Kurt said, and gasped into the pillow he had wrapped his arms around, when Dale did as he asked. "Make sure you've spread the lube around a little, and then push your index finger inside." He squirmed under Dale's touch. "Fuck. Just like that. Fuck me with it."
"Does that feel good?" Dale asked, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity. He pulled his finger slowly back out, and then pushed it in again, marveling at how hot and tight Kurt was inside. His cock twitched and the head got wetter.
"Feels great," Kurt said. "It'll feel better when you -- fuck, put another finger in -- when you're fucking me." He ground his hips down against the mattress and pulled one leg up to the side to give Dale easier access. Dale continued to stretch and prepare Kurt, until Kurt stopped him with a firm hand on his wrist. "Put on a condom, and slick it up, then get the fuck inside me."
"You're awfully pushy for someone with another guy's fingers up his ass," Dale commented.
"Dale," Kurt said, "please. Just fuck me." He thrust against the bed when Dale eased his fingers out of him. "Please."
Dale tore open the condom wrapper with suddenly unsteady hands and rolled it down his shaft and coated it with lube, then eased himself in behind Kurt and lined himself up carefully. He pushed slowly in, closing his eyes and panting.
Kurt pressed back against him with a sigh, turning his head so his cheek rested against the pillow as Dale lowered himself until Kurt felt his chest brushing against his back. "Now," Kurt murmured, and Dale drew back his hips, then thrust in just hard enough to rock them both forward. Kurt followed the easy rhythm that Dale set, breathing slowly through flared nostrils and squeezing his eyes shut. He moaned softly. "Feels so good..."
Dale's forehead pressed to the side of Kurt's neck as he rocked against Kurt's ass. He had to keep a tight rein on his control, knowing somehow that this was the pace Kurt wanted when all he, himself wanted to do was to look down their bodies, to watch himself fucking Kurt, and to make the whole room rattle with every thrust.
"You can fuck me hard, if you want to," Kurt said, then, and that was it for Dale's control. Kurt fisted the sheets as Dale hauled him up to his knees, grabbed his hips, and started to piston his hips like Kurt had known he wanted to do. He dipped his back and pushed his ass up, unable to help the moans and grunts that issued forth as the bed rocked, and the headboard beat against the wall, and Kurt jolted forward with each and every one of Dale's hard, fast thrusts.
Dale's hands slid up to Kurt's shoulders, then back down. His balls throbbed and tightened, and he reached under Kurt to jerk him off. "Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath. He shifted the angle of his thrusts a bit, and Kurt let out an animalistic cry. Fingers wet with semen, hips pressed tightly against Kurt's ass, Dale's eyes rolled back and he came with a gasp.
He rolled onto his side, pulling Kurt with him, and panted hard against Kurt's shoulder. His balls throbbed once, pleasantly, in the aftershocks of orgasm.
Kurt turned his head to look at him. Dale nuzzled against his cheek, then reached down and guided himself carefully out. He tossed the condom in the trash can next to his bed and rolled Kurt onto his back, then propped himself up on one elbow, and leaned in to kiss him. Then he draped himself across Kurt's body, tugged up the sheet, and closed his eyes, a tiny smile on his face.