Work Text:
They had something of a standing appointment.
Usually once a week, but sometimes more if Shaw had a particular craving. Flynn would find some reason to be aboard the Wind’s Redemption, careful to watch for suspicious glances or knowing looks. But no one seemed the wiser, and so he simply made his way down to the crew quarters and knocked on Shaw’s door.
And then spent the next ten or twenty minutes getting sucked off so hard it left him dizzy.
There was nothing, nothing about it that he didn’t enjoy. Shaw himself never said much, and he didn’t need to; he had Flynn figured out by their third meeting, and he knew exactly what it took to leave him a panting, sweaty mess half melted onto the cabin floor. He also always swallowed, which was a fact that would hit Flynn at random and often inopportune moments throughout the days between—that Mathias Shaw went back to his duties with the taste of Flynn on his tongue, lips pink and a little swollen, jaw no doubt aching just a bit. Tidemother help him, it would make Flynn hard all over again just thinking about it.
He’d lost track of how many times it happened. After the first awkward encounter, Flynn hadn’t really expected he would hear from Shaw again. Not on that matter, anyway. Alliance business in Kul Tiras always seemed to bring them into the same orbit, but they were never alone, never somewhere Flynn would dare risk a meaningful glance, let alone a quick aside to ask the question that had been burning in the back of his mind since that first time.
Not until one dreary afternoon a few weeks later. Flynn was picking dirt from beneath his fingernails with the point of a knife, sitting cross-legged on a crate next to the Middenwake. A messenger came striding up, shoved the little slip of paper into his hand, and left again without so much as a word. It had been sealed, which was odd; typically they didn’t bother with all the secrecy when it was just a quick summons or a request for his ledgers so they could… maybe… do an azerite inventory? He wasn’t sure.
But he had broken the wax seal and unfolded the note, expecting to find nothing of any particular interest. That was why the four little words scrawled in tight, neat handwriting in the center of the note had been such a surprise.
I need a favor.
He didn’t have to sit and think about what that meant, or who had sent it. For starters, he knew Shaw’s handwriting. He was the only man on Azeroth who wrote like he’d been raised by a printing press.
So, that was how Flynn had ended up leaning against the wall of the cabin, holding the back of Shaw’s head, fucking into his throat like he was born to do it.
After that, things just sort of continued as they had begun. Every week or so he would get a note, and every week he would end up back aboard the Redemption, spending himself one heavy spurt after another while Shaw worked his throat around him, sometimes staring up at Flynn with dark, half-lidded eyes. Like he couldn’t have formed two coherent words at that moment if his life depended on it.
The few times Flynn had offered to return the favor had been soundly rejected. Not rudely, but firmly, and Flynn never found himself with an opportunity to ask why. Was it that Shaw didn’t enjoy it himself? Was he embarrassed about something? That didn’t seem very likely, given the sort of man he was. But Flynn had never so much as seen him out of his armor, though he had spied plenty of evidence that Shaw was enjoying what they got up to regardless. On more than one occasion he had finished Flynn off and stood up, and Flynn could see how hard he still was. He didn’t always get off on it. And as much fun as it was having the soul sucked out of him through his cock, Flynn did enjoy a little reciprocity now and then, so… why not? He liked to see his lovers panting and groaning above or below him, watching them fall to pieces while he brought them pleasure. It was half the fun after all. But Shaw never wanted any of that, and he couldn’t figure out why.
Flynn knew it would likely be the same that day as he made his way down the dark corridor to Shaw’s cabin. The door wasn’t locked; he no longer bothered knocking, anyway. For all intents and purposes it was just a weekly meeting between the spymaster and one of his contacts, and there was nothing untoward about it.
Shaw was at his desk, scribbling away at something. He didn’t look up when Flynn entered.
“Brought that book back,” Flynn said, holding up a copy of The Alliance of Lordaeron as he shut the door behind him. “Heavy stuff. Kind of boring.”
As he drew closer to the desk, he could see that Shaw was writing some sort of report. There were half a dozen finished pages already drying off to the side, and a well-used blotter sitting next to them. Shaw made a noncommittal sound and continued writing.
Flynn set the book down on the desk, out of the way of Shaw’s work, and moved around to stand beside his chair. “Might borrow that one on the Scourge next,” he said.
He shifted closer, so that he was looking almost directly down on Shaw where he sat hunched over his work. Still no real acknowledgement of his presence, or that he had said anything.
“I was thinking,” he continued, reaching down to unbuckle his belt, “this ceasefire is the perfect opportunity to do an overhaul of the ‘Wake. She’s a bit battered and bruised from all those expeditions.” The belt fell away to hang down at his sides, and Flynn started on the laces of his trousers. It didn’t take long to have them undone, and he slipped his hand inside to slowly push his palm along the length of his cock. He was already half hard, and getting harder by the second. “Especially if you think this peace isn’t likely to last.”
Shaw’s hand had slowed, though he was still writing. It was impossible to miss the slight hitch in his breath, the way his shoulders were moving just a bit higher each time he inhaled, a little faster. Flynn pulled his cock out of his trousers and gave it a few long, slow strokes. He was twitching in his own hand, a little slick of precome beading at the tip. For a moment he considered just bringing himself off like that, watching Shaw work while he pumped into his own fist.
But that wouldn’t be any fun for Shaw, would it? So, he slid his fingers into Shaw’s hair, cradling the back of his head very gently as he turned him away from his work and brought his mouth down onto Flynn’s cock. Shaw made a sound so much like a whimper as he swallowed that it made Flynn throb, and he pulled just a little bit harder. He felt Shaw’s lips go taut around him, felt his tongue working along the length of him, and shuddered a sigh.
“That’s it. That’s what you want, isn’t it,” he whispered. “Take it all, now.”
Shaw looked up from beneath his lashes and Flynn could see his eyes were already glassy and dark. He was still holding the quill in one hand, dripping ink onto his desk. Flynn reached over and plucked it from his fingers. Shaw didn’t put up any resistance. The rest of him yielded to Flynn just as easily as his mouth had.
Flynn thought about tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Losing himself in the sensation of Shaw’s mouth around him, enjoying the heat and the slick slide of it. He had done that plenty of times before. But he wanted something a little different this time. Something he could think about for days after, tugging on his cock in the middle of the night and pretending it was a pair of wet, wanting lips. Thinking about how Shaw was only a few dozen yards down the harbor, lying in his own bunk, where Flynn could fuck him until he was hoarse and trembling.
He turned Shaw’s head aside, and his cock slipped out just enough that he could push it against Shaw’s cheek. Watching the way it bulged there, obscenely pushing on his mouth from the inside like that, had Flynn’s balls aching. Then it suddenly popped out of Shaw’s mouth and the man was upon it like he was starved. He wrapped his fingers around the end, rubbing lightly with his thumb, and moved his mouth up and down the side like he was taking in the lay of the land. The whole time his tongue slid along the underside, making Flynn shiver. It was incredible—but it was also very wet, and some things were getting a bit cold.
Flynn carefully guided Shaw’s mouth back and away, and Light help him if that view wasn’t one worth dying for: Shaw, sitting properly in his chair, hands in his lap, watching Flynn with eyes so black and hungry he thought he might fall into them.
He moved to lean back against the desk, facing the hull, with Shaw in front of him. There was no need to tell Shaw to get back to it; he lunged the moment he was able, grunting as he sucked Flynn down and bobbed his head on his cock. It was incredible. He was absolutely focused on that one task only, and Flynn had never felt anything like it. He leaned back on his hands, careful to avoid the wet ink on Shaw’s paperwork.
“You think about this when I’m not here,” he guessed, biting his lip and hissing as Shaw hollowed his cheeks and sucked even harder. “Bet you’ve thought about coming down to the Middenwake some nights.”
All he received in reply was a groan, but he could interpret its meaning. “I’m thinking if you weren’t certain it would look suspicious, you’d have me here every day, on your knees taking my cock in your throat. Am I right, Shaw?”
Shaw’s hands had been on Flynn’s thighs, but when he asked that question Shaw made a strange sound, almost like he was in pain, and then promptly reached between his legs to palm his own length.
Well.
That was new.
“That’s it, isn’t it,” Flynn asked quietly. He didn’t want anyone who might be in the corridor outside to hear them, after all. “You want this all the time, you’re just not able to have it. No wonder you were so hungry that first time. How long had you been thinking about giving me a good long suck, hm? Weeks? Months? Were you in here with your hand on your own prick and your fingers down your throat, pretending it was me?”
Shaw abruptly pulled back and bit out, “Fuck,” panting hard for a few seconds before diving back down over Flynn. His lips were a deep, glistening red, and the skin around his mouth was wet. Tides, he was a sight. He was still stroking himself, only his upper arm visible to Flynn. But it was moving fast; he was hot for it, anxious to come. Flynn wished he could watch.
“Maybe next time I’ll stretch out on that bunk and let you suck me off while I drive you mad with my tongue. Would you like that, Shaw? Feeling my tongue on your ass while your mouth is full of my cock?”
Shaw moved up higher on his knees, changing the angle so that he could take Flynn deeper into his throat. His arm was moving even faster, his breath coming in stuttering, uneven bursts through his nose. If Flynn had to guess he would say Shaw was about to make a complete mess of them both.
“I want to fuck you,” Flynn said. He knew he was probably pushing it, but he had long since lost the ability to shut himself up. Years ago, if he was being honest, but more so in that cabin, in that moment, than ever before. “Bend you over this desk and take you so hard it makes the ship rock. I want to leave you full of my come, watch you go back to your work with some of me inside you, knowing you can feel me every time you move. I want to hear you wail around my fingers while you suck them down the way you suck my prick.”
“Fairwind—” Shaw gasped, pulling back and panting into the close air of the cabin. He was still jerking himself, still heavy-lidded and flushed, but he was only holding Flynn’s cock now. He didn’t seem able to focus on anything but bringing himself off anymore. In truth, Flynn was fine with that. He watched Shaw tip his head forward, resting it against Flynn’s stomach.
“Come on, Shaw, show me how much you want all of that. Let me see those beautiful eyes while you come, then you can finish me off the way you like to.”
Shaw looked up, his chin still resting against Flynn. He was so far gone he didn’t even seem able to form whole words anymore. He was just panting, huffing every breath, one hand clinging to Flynn’s thigh and the other fast at work on himself.
“That’s it, come on,” Flynn whispered.
Shaw groaned, such a desperate, needy sound. He was close. So close.
And then, for no reason at all, he stopped.
Flynn blinked down at him. He saw the focus return to Shaw’s eyes, the flush that deepened the pink on his cheeks to red. He had stopped right before coming, and Flynn couldn’t figure out why.
“Why’re you stopped?” Flynn demanded.
Shaw shook his head. He looked like he was on the verge of passing out.
“Tides, man, have a little mercy on yourself! Why would you deny yourself the—”
And then it hit him: Shaw was doing it on purpose. It was the denial that he enjoyed.
He hadn’t failed to come those times he was getting Flynn off because he wasn’t enjoying it enough, or he wasn’t satisfied. He wanted to hold off. To push himself up to that edge without going over. That first time had been his own frustration and desire getting the better of him. No wonder he’d been so brusque after.
Oh, that was… That was the best thing Flynn had heard all week. All year, maybe.
He could see that Shaw knew he’d put it together at last. So when Shaw lowered his eyes and went back to sucking Flynn slowly, working his bruised lips up and down the length of his shaft, he didn’t try to stop him. Just put a hand on the back of his head and guided him gently, cooling off so he could work himself back up again.
“Makes sense,” Flynn said, watching Shaw pull back to the tip of his cock. “Man like you, so in control, so on top of everything. It’s always to plan, isn’t it. Always as you intend. No one tells you no.” Shaw started to move his lips back down again, and Flynn tightened his hold, pushing him all the way to the base. He felt Shaw tense, felt his throat working around his length as he fought the urge to gag. There were fingers curled tight in the loose fabric of his pants. “It’s about not getting what you want. Drawing out the anticipation until you lose control entirely.”
Shaw made a gagging sound, but Flynn held him there. He knew Shaw could free himself if he really wanted to, but that was the thing of it—he didn’t want to.
He finally let go, and Shaw pulled back, sputtering and gasping for air. His face was flushed a deep red now, and there were tears in his eyes. He spared Flynn a look that could have been baleful or desirous, there was very little difference, and then he abruptly plunged back down. He sucked twice as hard as before, bobbing his head so quickly it made Flynn’s thighs tremble.
There was no way he’d last longer than Shaw this round. He didn’t have nearly the patience or the discipline, nor the desire to deny himself. He wanted to empty his balls and watch Shaw take every drop.
And he would have, too, had the door not opened behind him.
“Mathias,” said Wyrmbane, “I was looking over your initial report from the mission in—oh, Captain Fair…”
Flynn guessed that was right around the point the high commander realized just what it was he’d walked in on.
And that Shaw hadn’t stopped.
He couldn’t have seen anything more than Flynn’s back and Shaw’s hands on his hips, but that was undoubtedly enough. If he had any sense at all there would be no mistaking the nature of the tawdry little number taking place before him.
“I… I’ll just,” he stammered, before promptly hastening back out of the room. Flynn could hear his boots stomping all the way up the steps to the main deck.
So, that had happened.
To his surprise, Flynn hadn’t lost much momentum on his building orgasm despite the untimely interruption. He counted that as a win, and returned his attention to the hot, wet mouth around his cock—after all, if Shaw didn’t care, then he wasn’t going to worry either. One didn’t survive years aboard ship without sacrificing a little privacy now and then in the name of relief.
In fact, near as Flynn could tell, Shaw didn’t just seem to not care; judging by the way he’d doubled down and started stroking himself again, he had quite liked that unexpected interruption. The man truly was full of surprises.
“My, you are a filthy little bastard, aren’t you,” Flynn said affectionately. He stroked the back of Shaw’s head and felt the undulation of his tongue in response. It did not go unappreciated. “Is there anything that doesn’t get you off? Want me to call Wyrmbane back down here so he can watch the rest? He lingered a bit, not sure if you noticed.” There had to be a libido somewhere under all that plate.
But Shaw, through deed rather than word, denied his generous offer; he changed course, instead lavishing attention upon Flynn’s balls. And oh, if Flynn had ever believed Shaw’s talents were anything but all-encompassing, he learned then how wrong he was. That skilled mouth and the heavenly tongue within worked him over while Shaw stroked him slowly, drawing the pad of his thumb along the underside of Flynn’s cock, the pressure just enough to make Flynn’s toes curl.
“Learned that in spy school, did you?” he panted. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t have, would you. But you learned it somewhere, didn’t—” He stopped and huffed a breath. Tides the man truly was deadly with his hands. “Didn’t you? So, who was it, Shaw? Who was it taught you how to take a cock down your throat so sweetly? How to watch your teeth and breathe and keep from gagging and do it all while making it so very, very good, hm?”
Shaw’s emerald green eyes gazed at him from beneath a fan of dark lashes, his mouth still too busy to answer. Flynn smiled to himself. “Or did you figure it out on your own a bit at a time? Practicing a little more than your stealth in those dark alleys of Stormwind, weren’t you.”
There were a number of other equally filthy things Flynn wanted to say, and he thought Shaw might like a few of them quite a bit. But it happened that at that very moment Shaw’s deft hand slipped between Flynn’s legs, two fingers pressing just behind his balls, massaging the spot gently, and a thrum of pleasure rolled through Flynn that made his knees weak. Shaw sat back on his heels and actually smirked, and Flynn was left speechless. Evidently he’d taken that filthy little bastard comment to heart.
Then Shaw was back at it suddenly, taking him into his mouth again and warming the length of him that had cooled while his lips and tongue were occupied elsewhere. Flynn watched him work with that same single-minded intensity as always, felt those fingers doing something that was frankly magical between his legs, and he let himself go, finally.
Feeling Shaw swallowing around him, the wet velvet of his tongue as Flynn pulsed across it, was bliss. Shuddering through it, Flynn was riveted in place as he watched Shaw’s sharp gaze grow soft, his face relaxed in a way that could only mean pleasure too great to suppress beneath the rigid mask he wore day after day. He let Flynn’s still-hard cock slip from his lips to rest lightly against his cheek as he regained his breath, and then those green eyes slowly rose to meet Flynn’s, intense and so very dark with desire. In a voice worn rough from overuse, he said, “Now, I believe you made an offer, Captain.”