trust

by somnum365

Summary:

It’s something that Tommy has thought about for a while. Those last few moments before Evan comes, when he’s fucking into Tommy quick and greedy, too close to be anything approaching inhibited—when he’s losing himself in the friction, in the pleasure he can wring for himself from Tommy’s body.

Not that Evan thinks about it that way, Tommy is sure. Evan likes giving pleasure as much as he likes receiving it.

That’s kind of the thing, though. What if Evan wasn’t concerned about Tommy’s pleasure? What if he fucked Tommy selfishly, just for himself? What if he used Tommy’s body to get himself off—just that, and nothing else? What would he be like? How would he fuck Tommy if he was just doing it for himself?

Notes:

so when I started this my idea was something like "puppy buck fucks tommy like he's a sex toy," and while I ended up making this way more about tommy and him trusting buck to do whatever he wanted with tommy's body, I think that image of buck kind of helplessly humping into tommy is still here

both of them are actively into it and communicating, but I guess a slight warning if you're really super sensitive about complete control being given over to a partner

It’s something that Tommy has thought about for a while. Those last few moments before Evan comes, when he’s fucking into Tommy quick and greedy, too close to be anything approaching inhibited—when he’s losing himself in the friction, in the pleasure he can wring for himself from Tommy’s body. 

Not that Evan thinks about it that way, Tommy is sure. He’s too good for that, too kind and attentive, too wrapped up in the feedback loop of being good for Tommy and making sure that Tommy is enjoying himself too. He likes hearing Tommy moan for him, gets a cocky little grin on his face when Tommy is still too wracked by the aftershocks of a particularly good orgasm to kiss him back. Evan likes giving pleasure as much as he likes receiving it. 

That’s kind of the thing, though. What if Evan wasn’t concerned about Tommy’s pleasure? What if he fucked Tommy selfishly, just for himself? What if he used Tommy’s body to get himself off—just that, and nothing else? What would he be like? How would he fuck Tommy if he was just doing it for himself? 

It’s not just Evan. This is something that Tommy has thought about for as long as he’s thought about men. He has never brought it up, never given permission before; too terrified of what the reality would be. Evan is different, though. This relationship is different. Tommy can let down his guard around Evan and trust that he won’t take advantage of it. 

It still takes Tommy almost a year after he and Evan move in together to gather enough courage to bring it up. 

Evan is hesitant at first, sweet man that he is. “What about you? Don’t you wanna feel good too?” 

Tommy has to close his eyes against Evan’s earnest face and explain haltingly that this is something that would make him feel good. Maybe he won’t be weeping and overwhelmed the way he is when Evan homes in relentlessly on his prostate, when Evan teases the head of his cock with light fingers and little kitten licks until he’s begging, won’t come so hard he swears his heart stops for a moment, maybe it won’t be that kind of pleasure. But there’s an itch inside of Tommy that he needs Evan to scratch. Maybe tonight, if Evan would be up for it. 

“I wanna feel you, baby,” Tommy says between gentle kisses. “I wanna feel you. Please let me.” 

Evan melts on his tongue with a soft moan, and it’s that easy. He nods and kisses Tommy harder, leans into him, tips him back on their bed. 

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you?” 

“You won’t hurt me.” 

It has taken Tommy a long time to believe it, but he really does. Evan won’t hurt him. Evan isn’t going anywhere. 

“But you’ll tell me if I do?” Evan’s eyes are wide and concerned, even as he starts sinking into his arousal. This is doing something for him, too. 

“Yeah,” Tommy assures him. “Yeah, I’ll tell you.” 

Evan still takes his time getting Tommy ready. He flips Tommy onto his front like he weighs nothing and drips lube onto his hole, slowly works it inside. He stretches and pulls and teases for so long that Tommy ends up begging for it. 

“Please, Evan,” he breathes into the pillow, loose and wet and beyond ready, needy. “Please fuck me.” 

Evan lays across Tommy’s back, hot and heavy—solid, weighty, perfect. 

“You want me?” Evan’s breath leaves goosebumps in its wake. 

That’s an understatement. Already, Tommy is feeling floaty and boneless, just from Evan’s weight pressing him into the bed, just from Evan’s fingers shoving back inside of him one more time and spreading him wide. 

“Want you to take me,” Tommy begs. “Use me. Please, Evan, I’m yours.” 

Evan’s exhale hits Tommy’s ear, rolls over the back of his neck. He wraps one arm under Tommy’s body, across his chest. He lines himself up with the other and slides in slowly, indulgently. Tommy can’t tell if he’s being gentle for Tommy’s sake or if it’s what he wants. Something aches in Tommy’s chest at the thought of Evan wanting to be gentle with him. 

Evan’s other arm wraps under and around Tommy, cupping his pec. He’s using both arms to hold Tommy tight to his body, to keep him in place. Evan wiggles his hips like he’s getting comfortable, settling in. 

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes, pressing his face into Tommy’s upper back, just between his shoulders. “Oh, fuck, Tommy, that feels good.” 

Evan thrusts gently. Tommy can feel every inch of him sink in and slide back out. It’s good, it’s always so good. Evan’s cock is thick and just long enough to nudge up against Tommy’s prostate, but his pace is slow, controlled, concentrated: still feeling out what he wants to do. 

“Feels good,” Tommy assures him. “Take what you need, baby.” 

“Just need you. Just like this.” 

Evan’s hips change angles and speed up. He moans and it’s almost a laugh: low and long and stuttered, uninhibited. Tommy feels Evan’s tongue loll out in a lazy smile, wet against his upper back. 

If Tommy had to use one word to describe Evan as a lover—other than generous—it would be wet. He licks, he drools, he cries, he sweats, his cock leaks like a faucet, and he prefers to use far more lube than Tommy had been used to. More often than not by the time they’ve both come, Tommy’s body is covered in sticky splotches and drying patches of wet. It would be a little gross if it wasn’t so hot, so enthusiastic, if Evan didn’t flop on top of Tommy afterward and lick the shining trails of Evan’s desire for him off of his still-heaving chest clean like he’s the best goddamn lollipop Evan has ever tasted. 

Evan keeps that good pace, that steady rhythm. Tommy moans as he feels the thick muscles of Evan’s stomach contracting against his back, never for a moment letting Tommy forget how strong Evan is, how big and powerful. Every few thrusts, Evan’s hips rut off rhythm and he moans like it surprises him how good it feels to go faster. 

“This is what you wanted, right?” Evan asks. 

He’s slipping, pleasure slurring his speech. It clicks for Tommy why this is doing something for Evan, too; why he agreed so readily. Tommy wants to be used: Evan wants to be useful. 

“Perfect, baby, doing so good,” Tommy pants. “So good for daddy.” 

Evan breathes an ahhh across Tommy’s neck that shoots right down to his cock. Their bodies slip against each other as the sweat gathers between them. Evan is rutting into him with just enough force now that he’s getting some friction off the sheets—not enough to come, but enough to tease, enough to take the edge off. Exactly what Tommy wants. Evan’s breath hot across his skin, Evan’s complete envelopment of his body, Evan taking control and fucking him like he’s an afterthought. Evan. 

Tommy can feel it in the rhythm of Evan’s hips when, soothed by the permission, the praise, the syrupy pull of pleasure, the last of his earlier trepidation disappears and it’s just this, just them, just him. Evan fucks in sharply, messily; not roughly but without an ounce of self consciousness—not much in the way of conscious thought at all, it feels like. Pure instinct, pure need, pure pleasure. 

God, Tommy wishes he could lose himself in sex the way Evan does. He loves every second of it, gets syrupy and fuzzy in the head, fuckdrunk and loose, but even through the haze he’s never unaware of his body, of himself, of what Evan might think of the things Tommy wants to do to him, what Tommy wants done to himself in return. Evan isn’t like that. There’s something so utterly shameless about the way Evan fucks that Tommy has always been jealous of. Evan likes what he likes and once he finds out that he likes something, he doesn’t second guess it. He sinks into it as deeply as everything else he does. 

“Daddy,” Evan moans, hips snapping, fucking into Tommy in quick, desperate bursts. His leg comes up, knee pressed into the bed to get better leverage and fuck Tommy harder. 

Tommy flashes hot all over. It’s thrilling to experience Evan like this—intimate, like this is how he acts when he’s alone. And when he’s alone, he’s still thinking about Tommy. Tommy’s pleasure may be an afterthought, but he isn’t. Evan is using him, taking such undeniable pleasure in his body, fucking him with little finesse, little aim beyond getting himself off, but it’s still Tommy who he’s moaning for, Tommy who he’s thinking about. It’s absurdly flattering, knowing that Evan has permission to be selfish and ignore Tommy but he’s still right here. His mind hasn’t wandered to some other fantasy, some other person whose hole he’d rather be fucking. 

“Feel good, baby?” 

Wordless moans and groans of pleasure spill out of Evan’s mouth and onto Tommy’s skin. Evan’s crossbody grip on Tommy’s pec tightens, sending a spark down his spine. He feels like a pillow or a well-loved sex toy: inanimate and clutched tight in sweaty, desperate hands, held tighter and more still the closer Evan gets. 

Evan presses his face harder into Tommy’s back, breath hot and humid against his skin. “So good,” he slurs. 

Tommy’s whole body is buzzing in agreement, brain going fuzzy with pleasure and love and trust. This is something that Tommy hadn’t even considered letting himself actually have before Evan. This has lived so deep down inside of him for so long that it approaches catharsis to let it finally see the light of day—to finally feel safe enough and secure enough in who he is to let himself ask for it. Years, it has taken him, even after coming out. Because fucking a man is one thing, even sucking dick is something he’d figured out how to let himself enjoy pretty quickly, but there’s something so undeniably gay about letting a big man weigh you down with his body and take what he wants from you—not only letting it happen but wanting it, craving it, loving it—that it has taken Tommy decades to accept his appetite for. 

In a way, he’s glad it took him so long. The men he’d been with before Evan weren't sweet like he is. For them, this would have been a conquest. For Evan, it’s an indulgence. He recognizes that it’s something Tommy has offered of his own free will and he’s treating it accordingly: like a rare gift, like something precious. Right now, Tommy is being held down by thick, strong arms, but he doesn’t feel trapped. He just feels held. 

“Fuck, so good,” Evan moans. “Close, daddy.” 

Tommy knows that. Evan is about as subtle as a freight train even when he’s trying to hold out. Now, with only his own pleasure to worry about, he’s jackrabbiting into Tommy like he’s on a time crunch, like he’s never even tried to make it last for a partner, like Tommy is just some thing he’s decided to hump. 

There’s such a stark, vibrant contrast between this and the way that Evan usually fucks him that Tommy wants to cry. He knows now just how much care Evan takes with him, how much attention Evan pays to making sure Tommy feels good. He knows how much Evan holds back and teases, how much love he puts behind every thrust. Tommy had known that Evan was a generous lover, but to feel it so sharply in the sloppy snap of his hips and the unrestrained strength of his clinging is heady. 

“Gonna come for me, baby?” Tommy squeezes around Evan encouragingly. “Gonna fill daddy up?” 

Evan whines out, “Yeah,” directly into Tommy’s skin. His teeth come out, scraping carelessly as he rocks back and forth. Wet puddle of drool, lazy tongue, stream of soft little noises. Evan is gone. 

“That’s it,” Tommy coos, arousal rushing through him. “That’s good, baby. Want you to feel good, just want you to feel good.” 

“Good,” Evan slurs. “Daddy, good.” 

Evan fucks fast, desperate, reckless. His neatly bitten nails sink into Tommy’s chest hard, and then he stills with a guttural groan as he tips over the edge. 

“Thank you,” Evan babbles, weak and breathy, coming and coming and coming. “Thank you daddy thank you fuck thank you thank you.” 

Tommy feels warmth spread inside of him, feels Evan’s cock pulse and twitch. Evan ruts his hips forward a few more times, humping himself into overstimulation. Tommy squeezes around him and he wheezes. 

“Fuck,” Evan groans through a laugh, thrusts again. “Fuck, that’s so good. More.” 

Evan releases his death grip on Tommy’s chest and snakes a hand down to his cock. 

“You don’t have to-” Tommy starts.

“I want to. Quick. Wanna feel you squeeze me when you come.” 

Fuck. Evan is already overstimulated, but it’s a pleasure-pain he luxuriates in. If this is what he wants from Tommy’s body, who is Tommy to deny him? 

“Not too much?” 

Evan huffs over the sweat and drool between Tommy’s shoulders. “You? Never.” 

It doesn’t take Tommy long. Evan keeps his strokes short and fast, thick fingers flying over the head of Tommy’s cock in a focused way that makes Tommy shiver and cry out. He’s floating, flying, held down only by Evan’s weight and the teeth that have found their way to his trap muscles. He comes into Evan’s hand with a groan, which Evan echoes as Tommy’s ass squeezes around his softening cock. 

Tommy feels it down to his toes. He feels it in his teeth. It’s so absurdly good that he wants to take a page out of Evan’s playbook and start begging for it again, for Evan to stay inside of him until he gets hard again, for Evan to let Tommy warm him and never leave him empty again. 

The force of it shocks Tommy a little. He feels pathetic and small. He feels safe and held. He waits for the shame to flood in as his sweat cools and his heart slows, but it doesn’t come. Evan is pressing little kisses to his shoulders, his neck, nosing along his back and licking whatever he finds there. The only flood of emotion Tommy feels is love.

Notes:

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