Work Text:
It's a random weekend in October, and Donnie needs to go out to a club or a bar or something and grind against someone. He's finally having more good days than bad with the pain that likes to shoot through his arm and settle into his fingertips and shoulder. He's done with the paperwork to get him back into school. He's been single for almost four months. He's earned it.
So he throws on pants, a tank, and a button up that’s so tight that he might actually pop a seam if he flexes too hard. He squeezes his wallet into the back pocket of his pants, calls an Uber, and heads out.
It's one of those nights where he doesn't know if he's going to end up at La Cita or Precinct. He has the Uber drop him off at Slipper Clutch and ducks in for a drink, which he finishes a little too fast. Fuck it, he's not on any of the hardcore pain meds anymore, for better or for worse.
The bartender is a short beefcake with a killer smile, but he's leaning in and talking to a woman in a tight jumpsuit thing. Looking at them, Donnie knows he's going to end up at Precinct. He wants to suck someone's dick or something. He slides the empty glass back across the bar and leaves, easy as that.
Donnie figured out he was bisexual when he was fourteen and tried out for the swim team his freshman year. He'd cut out of there before he could even go through with it, because seeing Jayden from his English class in a swimsuit made him pop the most persistent boner he'd ever had at that point. The guy had chest hair. About five of them, but it was more than Donnie. That had been enough to get him into different parts of the internet porn world than what he'd been looking at before, and it was easy to figure out from there, even if it took him a while to actually tell anyone.
He pays, gets in, and his eyes skip around on his way to the bar. There's some guys looking back at him, but Donnie doesn't feel like he's seeing anyone he really wants. He flags down a bartender and gets a drink, and the guy next to him at the bar checks him out very closely. He's older, not in a hot way, in a way that reminds him of his grandfather, so Donnie just gives him a polite smile and finds a different place to stand while he sips his drink.
His friends always give him shit for being picky, but it's about vibes as much as it's about looks. There's plenty of beautiful people around him everywhere he goes, because it's Los Angeles. But so many people are just disengaged or wrapped up in themselves and see Donnie as an accessory. He hates feeling like someone's putting on a show for everyone else when he's dancing with them or even just talking to them. Even if he's just going to fuck someone, he doesn't want to feel like a piece of meat.
It's when he goes back to the corner of the bar to drop off his empty cup when he sees a guy waiting. He's lean and dressed in black, a mess of curly dark hair obscuring most of his profile at this angle, but there's a hint of white teeth chewing on a bottom lip. His jaw is nice, his neck is weirdly hot. Donnie hopes the rest of him looks as good.
Donnie raises his hand up, gets the eye of the bartender immediately, and he leans in to the guy as the bartender approaches.
“What do you want to drink?” he asks over the music.
Huge, lined eyes look up at him, and Donnie’s breath catches for just a second. His eyes are beautiful.
“Gin and tonic,” the guy says, and Donnie blinks.
“Graham?”
The corner of Graham's mouth quirks up, and he wiggles his fingers at Donnie. “Hey.”
Donnie leans over the bar and asks for a gin and tonic. It's made quickly, and Donnie hands over his card.
“You don't have to,” Graham says, his voice close to Donnie’s ear.
“Don't trip,” Donnie says.
You didn't have to die to save my life.
He orders himself another vodka soda, too, and they slip back from the bar to let in someone else who's waiting.
“You didn't know it was me?” Graham asks around the little cocktail straw/stirrer. “Why'd you ask?”
Donnie flushes and sips at his own drink. “Seemed like you'd been waiting a while.”
“I was,” Graham admits. “That was nice of you.”
He shrugs and leans back against the wall behind him. “Not really. I thought you might be cute, too.”
Graham’s mouth twists into a little smile, and his shoulders hunch a little. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
Donnie’s eyes sweep over Graham in his black pants, black muscle tank, black boots, and black eyeliner. “You didn't.”
Then Graham chokes on his drink and Donnie gently smacks his back as he coughs.
“You here with anyone?” Donnie asks, and Graham shakes his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You wanna dance?”
“I'm not a good dancer,” Graham says, and Donnie rolls his eyes. “Do I look like I'd be a good dancer?”
“No, do I?”
Graham squints at him. “Yeah. Duh. You look like you'd be good at everything. Except maybe anger management. And setting timers for laundry.”
Donnie finishes his drink in one gulp and reaches over to set it down on the edge of the bar. “My new place has in-unit laundry. And you were being annoying. I'm usually pretty chill, actually.”
He watches Graham move his lips to the rim of his cup and drink the rest of the cocktail quickly. His thumb has to catch a little trickle of liquid that escapes the corner of his mouth, and Donnie has the sudden urge to pin him against a wall and lick him clean. Except he's not sure where Graham stands on being pinned against things after everything.
“I don't care if you're a bad dancer,” he says, stepping closer and watching the way Graham's Adam’s apple bobs. “Do you wanna dance with me?”
Graham hesitates before nodding and following Donnie to the floor. When Donnie slips an arm around him, Graham's hands settle on his biceps like they're in middle school. He bounces a little awkwardly, but Donnie shifts closer until he can kind of guide Graham's body with his own.
Pressed together and moving to the music, Donnie can't believe the guy he's found to grind against is his obnoxious weirdo of a neighbor who saved his life and died for it. He can't believe how badly he wants to drag said obnoxious weirdo into a bathroom and suck his dick.
Graham's hand moves up to curl around the back of Donnie’s neck, and he smiles at him, a little shy and embarrassed. It's cute as hell.
“See?” Donnie says in his ear, his lip brushing Graham's earlobe. “You're doing great.”
“You're doing most of the work,” Graham replies, his mouth against Donnie’s ear and making his dick fill out more in his already tight pants.
They pull back from each other a little, and Donnie turns his head to look at him, and their mouths are close. He looks into dark rimmed eyes for the okay, but Graham is looking down at Donnie’s mouth or chin. Unless he'd missed some toothpaste, Donnie’s willing to bet it's his mouth.
He leans in and kisses him, and Graham's fingers tighten their hold on his arm and neck. He gasps a little and then kisses Donnie back, and it's not a sweet little first kiss. It's a bit dirty, their tongues meeting almost immediately and slipping together. When Donnie pulls him closer, he feels how hard Graham's getting in his pants and presses his own dick to his hip.
Graham's moan isn't loud enough to be heard over the music, but it vibrates through Donnie's mouth. The hand on Graham's waist slides down and back to his ass, which is a perfect handful. It's not like Donnie didn't notice it before—he’s had more than a few fantasies about hatefucking the little twerp who thought he was the boss of everyone about everything. But it's different now. They've been through something life-changing, and Donnie had tried to track him down, but he didn't know his last name and they'd ended up at different hospitals and living in different places. And then he kept telling himself he'd do it later, and now it's months later and Donnie still doesn't know his last name.
He knows the kind of person that Graham really is, how it feels to have his hand holding his arm together, the sound of his voice pulling him back from the darkness that tried taking them both, and what he'd do to help someone else. And now he also knows that he's a good kisser, that they fit together perfectly, and that there's something there.
He's so close to hauling him up and carrying him to a flat surface, but someone else's hands settle on his waist, just long enough to move past him. But it's a reminder that they're in public. It's not a bad reminder, Donnie’s gotten his fair share of bathroom handjobs and fingered pretty people in dark corners, but it's a reminder nonetheless.
When he breaks the kiss, Graham chases his mouth and pulls him in again, grinding against Donnie's thigh. For a second, Donnie considers slipping his hand in his pants and feeling if he's wet at the tip, because he feels like Graham would drip all over. His tongue’s so slick, and he's sweating. Why wouldn't his cock leak for Donnie?
Then someone bumps Graham and his teeth go into Donnie's lip, which he'd be into if he hadn't gotten the sensitive inner part so hard.
“Oh, fuck!” Graham yelps, cradling Donnie's face in his—holy fuck—huge hands. He tugs them toward a table that's emptying and sits Donnie down on a chair by the open window. He uses his thumb to tug Donnie's lip down and pulls out his phone to look with his flashlight. “Okay, it's just a little mark. You're not bleeding.”
He looks so serious and concerned, like he hadn't helped shock Donnie's heart several months ago. Like a bloody lip is something to really worry about.
Donnie grabs Graham's hips and pulls him forward until he's standing between Donnie's spread knees. “You wanna get out of here?”
Graham blinks his huge eyes and his lips part like he's surprised. He nods. “O-okay.”
They Uber to Graham's place, because he's just in Echo Park and Donnie's all the way at the edge of Koreatown. The whole time they're in the car, their knees are bumping and Donnie’s got a hand on Graham's inner thigh, squeezing and feeling the way Graham tries to spread his legs more in the back of the Tesla that picked them up. When they pull up to a little two story brick building, Graham lets them into an apartment upstairs.
It's nice but plain. Donnie's still replacing all of his own shit, but he doesn't know if Graham is, too, or if he just doesn't have a lot of stuff. There's a stack of canvases leaning up against a wall, and Donnie wonders about them as he toes his shoes off and kicks them next to Graham's by the door.
“You—” Graham bends and puts them next to his neatly.
“Sorry,” Donnie says, waiting until he's straightened up to pull him close. “Got excited.”
“That's no excuse,” Graham scolds softly. He's such a freak, Donnie wants to bite him everywhere if he's into that.
Donnie kisses him and Graham presses against him with a moan. It's so loud without the music, and Donnie wants to hear more of that. He hauls him up by the backs of his thighs, and Graham grinds his dick against Donnie's waistband with a groan. The place is a studio, so Donnie just has to walk them through the open, wide arch to where the bed is and lay them back on it.
Graham's sheets are dark, too, and his skin fucking glows between the black clothes and the deep, deep red of his comforter. Hands push at Donnie's shirt, and he has to straighten up to get it off. The sleeves are so tight that he almost tears them.
“Why are all of your clothes so tight?” Graham complains as he attacks Donnie's fly.
“Because I look good in them,” Donnie points out. He dips his fingers under the collar of Graham's tank, and he feels chest hair. He gently pushes Graham back onto his elbows and hikes up the shirt, revealing a hairy stomach, too, with a couple small scars littered around the bigger one. “Take this off.”
Graham does as he's told, and Donnie wants to do something fucking weird like jerk off all over his torso to see the way his cum looks clinging to all that hair. He doesn't know if it's because of Jayden and his five chest hairs influencing him or what, but Donnie loves body hair. He wants to see if it's all over Graham or just on his chest and stomach, wants to lick it flat with his tongue.
“Let me, uh, let me do that,” Graham says when Donnie reaches for his pants. In the dim light filtering through the window, Graham's flushed.
Donnie backs off, because Graham might have something about other people taking his clothes off. But then he sees a hint of scalloped, lacy fabric when the zipper gets pulled down, and he realizes what's going on.
“Can I see?” he asks.
“Don't make it weird,” Graham pleads.
Donnie blinks at him. “Dude, I'm about to bust a seam here. It's not weird.”
He should make a joke about Graham stealing panties, but once he sees the way he looks straining against lace in a pair that's clearly meant for someone with a dick, any jokes fall out of his head. Before he knows it, he's got his hands on Graham's hips and he's stroking over the fabric with his thumbs.
“Fuck, you got any more of these?” Donnie asks, licking his lips.
“Yeah,” Graham replies, burying his fingers in Donnie's hair and pushing down. “But don't rip them.”
Donnie had mostly been curious, but the idea of ripping the seams and tasting Graham's dick is going to get stuck in his head for a while. He presses his mouth to the silky fabric that makes up the pouch and looks up to meet dark rimmed eyes.
“I can't believe this is happening right now,” Graham admits.
“Me either,” Donnie says, nuzzling his bulge with his lips. “God, I want to suck your dick so fucking bad.”
Graham makes a strangled little noise and there's a soft thump as his head falls back against his bed. Donnie drags his pants down, realizes the black socks go past Graham's knees, and he has to reach down to unzip his own pants. The fucking things are going to split open at this point.
The sound hits the air, and Graham's sitting back up again, watching intently.
“Let me see,” he demands, bratty and not even trying to be coy. Donnie lurches to his feet and rolls his pants over his thighs before he can push them down and kick them away. Graham's scooting forward, lips parted, and he hooks a finger under the pouch of Donnie's jockstrap. “I assumed you wore these for working out. I also kind of assumed you were straight, though.”
Donnie realizes Graham would know what kind of underwear he has because he used to pull it out of the laundry machines. “You're so fucking weird, dude. And I'm bi.”
“I'm not,” Graham says, scooting forward more and rubbing his hand over Donnie's cock in its pouch. His mouth follows, and Donnie's fingers end up in his curls to brace himself against the feeling of Graham sucking him through the stretched fabric of his jock. “I meant that I'm gay. I know I'm weird.”
Donnie chokes out a laugh and pushes Graham onto his back again, tearing off his own tank top. He crawls onto the bed and ends up with Graham straddling his hips, their bulges rubbing together. His long fingers squeeze Donnie's pecs as he grinds down on him, and Donnie wants to bury his face in his neck but he's enjoying the way Graham's thick brows are drawing together and how his lips look when he's panting.
“O-oh,” Graham gasps, and Donnie looks down to see the head of his cock peeking over the waistband of his panties, and it's shining and pink and pretty. He wants to feel it in the back of his throat.
“Can I suck your dick?” he asks, feeling like he's begging. “Please?”
Graham nods, grinding forward again, and the panties roll down more. When Donnie rolls them over, he kisses Graham and rocks against his dick a little for some friction before trailing his mouth over the dark hair of his chest and stomach. There's breaks where there's scar tissue instead, and Donnie's stomach clenches with the knowledge that he doesn't need to ask where they came from. He was there.
When he finally gets his mouth on Graham's dick, he licks messily across it before sucking him down to the edge of the waistband. One of Graham's legs hooks over his shoulder, and he arches under Donnie with a gasp and a whine. When Donnie looks up the length of his body, Graham's got a hand in his hair and he's looking at Donnie through heavy lids.
He runs his hand up Graham's stomach and scratches through the hair, his other hand tugging the panties down to reveal the rest of his dick. His dick is kind of big, actually, and Donnie's having to work to relax his throat to let him in. He watches Graham's face and how he squirms and listens to the noises he makes, wanting to hear all of them.
They hadn't gone through the whole top-or-bottom-or-what conversation yet, but Donnie's hole clenches when he imagines Graham's dick inside him. He also really wants to hold Graham in his lap and bounce him on his dick. He hopes this isn't a one night thing. Or that he can at least stay the entire night and that Graham has some stamina.
“Pause,” Graham gasps, and Donnie pulls off, preparing to move away, but Graham's leg stays over him. “Did you want to fuck me?”
Dudes are usually more straightforward, but it's kind of hilarious how straightforward Graham is.
“Or you fuck me,” Donnie says, shifting back enough that he's not nose to tip with Graham's dick. “Whatever you want.”
Graham sits up on his elbows and drags his socked heel up Donnie's shoulder blade. It's unbelievably fucking hot. “You'd let me fuck you?”
Donnie licks his lips and smiles. “I'd let you wear panties while you did it.”
When Graham covers his face and laughs, Donnie crawls up to kiss at his jaw and neck, which is just as biteable as it looks.
“Can you fuck me first?” Graham asks, tipping his chin back as Donnie nips at his throat. “I, uh, really can't stop thinking about that. Unless you really want—”
Donnie lifts his head and brushes Graham's nose with his, smiling when Graham stops himself and his breath catches in his throat. He kisses him and slips a hand under his back to pull him closer when Graham arches up, and Graham's arms wrap around his neck, his mouth opening under Donnie's.
When he scoops his other hand under Graham's thigh to get him to wrap his leg around Donnie's hip, he switches hands and does the same to the other leg before lifting Graham up and holding him against him while he kneels on the bed. Then he walks with his knees toward the edge, carefully stands up, and sits them down on the edge with Graham perched on his lap.
“I don't want to be impressed by muscles,” Graham says, running his hands over Donnie's biceps before looking at him through dark, thick lashes. “But that was kind of hot.”
Donnie grins and reaches around to grab Graham's ass, kneading his fingertips in the lace-covered flesh before cupping and spreading him, pulling him closer so his dick is smearing sticky precum over Donnie's abs. “Only kind of?”
Graham arches back into Donnie's hands. “Yes, stop trying to get me to boost your ego.”
He laughs and tucks his nose in Graham's neck and slips his fingers under the leg hole of Graham's panties, pressing them between his cheeks. Graham pants against his hair and pushes back against his fingertips, and Donnie almost growls like a fucking animal. He wants to flip Graham around, rip open his panties, and lick him open. He settles for teasing him with his fingers and kissing him and his neck and his shoulders while Graham gropes and squeezes him.
“H-hold on,” Graham says, and Donnie stops. Graham twists and huffs softly, getting up on unsteady legs and pulling the panties back up so he can walk to the bathroom. “I left it in the shower.”
Donnie assumes “it” is lube. He reaches for his pants to pull out his wallet and a grabs the condom he'd optimistically put in there before he left. When Graham reappears in the doorway with a bottle of lube, he's wiping under his eyes and looking at his fingertips.
“You always wear eyeliner when you go out?” Donnie asks, leaning back on the bed.
“No,” Graham says, looking at the floor for a second before looking at Donnie, his chin tucked down and his smile wry. “I used to wear it in high school, though. I kind of missed it, I guess.”
Donnie swallows and nods, his eyes sweeping over the long socks and the black panties and all the matching dark hair. “I like it.”
“Yeah?” Graham asks, planting a knee on the bed next to Donnie's thighs.
He feels his breath stutter in his chest, and he wraps a hand around Graham's side, his thumb pressing at the edge of where the hair starts. “Fuck yeah. I always thought you were cute. This is—yeah.”
The admission seems to surprise Graham. “You thought I was cute? Even then?”
Donnie nods and cups Graham's jaw with his other hand, brushing his thumb over Graham's chin. “Yeah. I really fucking did.”
Graham smiles and his skin flushes, and it's cute. “I, uh, I mean I have eyes. I knew you were hot. I just—there may have been some mutual pigtail pulling, I think.”
“No, you just pissed me off,” Donnie corrects, pressing his thumb to Graham’s bottom lip. “But I wanted to fuck you so bad.”
When Graham nips at his thumb, Donnie leans forward to kiss him, but a hand on his chest stops him.
“I did not touch your laundry because I thought you were hot,” Graham insists, a furrow appearing between his brows. “You were violating the social—”
“You're so annoying,” Donnie groans, laughing. “Just let me kiss you.”
Graham kisses him, and Donnie rolls them over, rocking his dick against Graham's and swallowing the noises he makes. He pulls Graham's panties down enough to expose his ass and grabs the lube where it was dropped on the bed.
He opens him up a little slower than he normally would, because he likes how Graham grabs him and tries to move on his fingers. When he pulls his jock down to put on the condom, Graham wraps a hand around him pulls him closer, looking down hungrily.
“Can I ride you?” he asks, licking his lips. “I-I’m good at it, I swear. That's how I usually use my toys.”
Donnie's eyebrows raise, because he'd pay real money to watch Graham ride a fake dick. He wonders what kind of collection he has. He wants to see it, wants to use it on him and watch him. He lays back and puts the condom on, and Graham takes the panties off, kneels over him, and sinks down on his cock in one smooth move.
“Oh, fuck!” Donnie gasps, curling forward and thrusting up. Graham feels like a fucking dream, all tight and hot and wet, and he looks at Donnie with those huge eyes and his parted lips as he starts moving on his dick.
“Yeah,” Graham breathes, fucking himself hard and steady and Donnie really needs to see him with one of those toys. He also wants to do this while Graham's in a thong so he can just pull the string aside and fuck him.
It's starting to hit Donnie just how bad he wants Graham. Has wanted Graham. Having Graham ride him like a fucking porn star is a literal fantasy come to life, because he's fantasized about this. Except the reality is so much better, because he can see the sweat trickling down Graham's throat and he's wearing eyeliner and the fucking socks.
He sits up and wraps an arm around his waist as he kisses him, moving Graham on his cock until they're moaning against each other's mouths.
“You're s-so fucking hot, holy shit,” Donnie gasps, bracing a hand back on the bed so he can get more leverage to fuck into Graham.
When Graham braces himself on Donnie's thighs, he tips his head back and watches Donnie as he moves himself on his dick in a way that makes Donnie's bones melt.
“D-don’t move,” Graham gasps, and Donnie stills. Graham bites his lip and smiles. “Good boy.”
Donnie's entire body breaks out into goosebumps, and it's like he gets defibrillated again with the way that jolts him. He watches, still and obedient and good, as Graham works himself on Donnie’s dick until he's rolling his hips down as his face pinches and his hole flexes.
Graham is cumming, he can get himself there without his hands, just with Donnie's dick. His mouth drops open in a panting cry, his tongue almost poking out, and he shudders and shakes as he pulses over Donnie’s abs.
When he's almost collapsed back and panting, Donnie blinks and asks, “Can I move?”
“Uh-huh,” Graham pants, and Donnie rolls him onto his back without pulling out. “Just don't expect me to do anything.”
“You're such a bitch, you're so fucking hot,” Donnie grunts, fucking into him. He pulls Graham onto his dick as much as he fucks into him, and Graham is shuddering and squirming until Donnie slams in and empties himself into the condom.
He presses his forehead to Graham’s and kisses him until he needs to pull out, and Graham sits up as he stands.
“Be right back,” Donnie says, kissing him again and ducking into the bathroom to get rid of the condom and grab a face cloth from a basket on the counter. They clean up and then Graham is sitting on the bed and looking at him.
“You don't have to leave,” he says as Donnie looks around and tries to figure out where his phone went.
Donnie sees it under the corner of the dresser and picks it up. “That you saying you want me to stay?”
Graham chews on his bottom lip for a long moment. “Yeah, it is.”
“Good,” Donnie says, crawling onto the bed and curling around Graham's back as he turns off his alarm for the morning, since he’s not getting up early to go to the gym. “You hungry?”
“A little,” Graham admits, twisting around to look down at him. “Why?”
“Because I'm gonna DoorDash something,” he says, scratching his nails over Graham's lower back and smiling when Graham makes a contented little humming noise.
They end up bickering over what to eat, and then they make out while they wait for the food. When it gets dropped off, Donnie veers off toward the bathroom while Graham goes to the door, partially because he's only wearing a jock. And he needs to make sure he'll be ready to go if Graham decides he wants to fuck him tonight.
In the mirror, he sees a black smudge of eyeliner on his neck. The pencil is sitting on the counter, and Donnie picks it up consideringly. Except it's more of a crayon than an actual pencil. He wipes it off with an alcohol pad from the medicine cabinet and applies it around his eyes. He hasn't worn makeup since he did cheerleading for the powderpuff games in high school, so it's a mess, but that's what smearing it is for.
When he emerges from the bathroom, Graham has their bibimbap, japchae, and kimbap laid out on the coffee table. He's wearing little shorts, and his legs are crossed as he furiously types something on his phone.
“They forgot the kimchi,” he says without looking up from what's undoubtedly some support chat or review site or who knows what.
“We'll live,” Donnie says, putting a knee next to Graham's leg and drawing his attention away from his phone. “You wanna fuck me after we eat?”
Graham looks from the food to Donnie, bringing a hand up to curl over his cheek, and he licks his lips as he looks back and forth between Donnie’s eyes. “Can we eat after I fuck you?”
Donnie had thought he might need a longer break, but with the way Graham is looking at him, he can be ready to go again pretty soon. He nods and buries his fingers in Graham's hair as he kisses along Donnie's stomach.
“I've only done this a couple times,” Graham admits, reaching around to knead at Donnie's ass. “So please give me honest feedback so we both enjoy it, okay?”
He's so weird. Donnie bends to kiss him and ends up stretched along the couch with Graham on top of him. He disappears for a bit to grab the lube and has a condom between his fingers, and then he turns Donnie around to face the back of the couch.
“I'm still surprised you want this,” Graham says, running a hand over Donnie's lower back.
“Feels good, doesn't it?” Donnie points out, spreading his knees and closing his eyes as slick fingertips rub over his hole.
“I shouldn't have a bias because of your height and build and demeanor.” Graham presses two long fingers into him, and Donnie arches back onto them with a soft noise, enjoying the stretch. “But I didn’t think it’d be an option.”
“Tr-trust me, it’s an option,” Donnie says, biting his lip and pressing back more on his fingers.
“Good to know,” Graham says softly, pressing a kiss to his back before fucking his fingers into him slowly.
He likes how careful Graham is, because he's had some people assume he can just immediately take whatever they've got. He doesn't know if it's his size or what, but he's had to tell more than one person to take it easy. Graham is already there, working his fingers in and adding more lube until Donnie feels slick all over. He's halfway to drooling on Graham's couch when he hears the crinkling of a condom wrapper.
“Do you feel ready?” Graham asks.
“You tell me,” Donnie mumbles, looking back at him with a lazy grin, and Graham fixes him with an exasperated look.
“It’s a serious question,” Graham admonishes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Donnie pushes back with a huff. “Yeah, yeah, ‘m ready.”
When Graham puts a foot up on the couch and eases the head of his dick into Donnie, it's the perfect kind of stretch that Donnie had wanted all week. He pushes back on Graham’s dick with a moan as it slides in and in until his ass is bumping Graham’s pelvis. He reaches back to spread himself and gets him that little bit further in.
Graham thrusts in, his hands going to Donnie’s hips. “Oh god, that’s—”
Donnie looks back at him and sees the way Graham is looking down, and he wonders how it looks. He knows what it looks like when he takes a dick, because his ex used to take Snapchat videos all the time. But he wonders what it looks like with Graham fucking into him. They could probably make a killing on OnlyFans, but he might be biased. His brain’s also being rewired by Graham’s dick, so he might be delusional, too.
Then he moves one of his hands to grip the back of the couch, and a small shock of nerve pain hits in a weird way that makes him hiss. It’s gone as suddenly as it comes, but Graham stops moving.
“Are you—”
“Shoulder,” Donnie says, shaking his hand out a little to make the numbness dissipate.
“Here,” Graham says, pulling out.
“I can—”
“Turn over,” Graham says, and Donnie huffs before doing as he’s told. He’s on his back, and Graham hooks one of his legs over the back of the couch and pushes the other one back. “How’s that?”
Donnie pulls his leg back more and feels like he’s being dumb for letting his heart get all fluttery and weird about Graham doing this, but he can’t help it. “C’mon, keep going.”
Graham applies more lube to his cock before he pushes back in, and Donnie realizes this was the better position anyway. He gets to see Graham’s face as he fucks him, and he can pull him down as he curls forward so they can kiss.
“You really like this, don’t you?” Graham murmurs, and Donnie’s throat sticks as he swallows and nods. “I bet you don’t get to get fucked as much as you want.”
Donnie bites his lip, shaking his head. He’d had a girlfriend for about nine months, and then he’d been dealing with recovery and not hooking up a ton. Even then, he’d been fine with mostly topping or hooking up with people who weren’t into pegging. He has a single dildo, but it’s not the same. It’d been hard to use it while his shoulder healed. He can count on one hand the amount of times he’s been fucked in the last year.
“You feel so good, though,” Graham continues, shifting his angle and gritting his teeth as he fucks hard into Donnie, spreading him open on his dick. He reaches down and tugs the pouch of Donnie’s jock away from his dick, causing it to flop onto his belly with a smack, and he realizes he hadn’t even given a shit about jerking himself off. It makes his cheeks burn with embarassment, like he’s been caught, but Graham doesn’t mock him or catch it. He just presses his hand to Donnie’s cock and thumbs over the slit, and Donnie arches into the touch with a whiny little noise.
“Please,” he gasps.
There’s a flash of teeth as Graham grins for a moment before he starts slowly jerking Donnie off. “Maybe you would’ve been less aggressive if you were getting fucked more.”
It’s unbelievable that Graham is—possibly accidentally—spouting some of the hottest dirty talk Donnie’s heard in a while. And he’s doing it while he’s fucking the life out of him.
“Sh-shut up,” he gasps, using the leg hooked over the couch to fuck himself on Graham’s dick. “You were being annoying.”
Graham rubs two fingers across the head of Donnie’s dick. “Did you want me to fuck you then, too?”
Donnie squeezes his eyes shut and remembers wanting to slam Graham up against a wall and fuck him, but he also remembers wanting Graham to do this. He wanted him to tell Donnie to bend over one of those fucking laundry machines and rail him after calling him out for being forgetful or whatever he wanted to complain about.
“Is that a yes?” Graham asks, his voice coming from right above Donnie’s face.
“Yes,” Donnie gasps, opening his eyes and seeing Graham’s heavily lined eyes watching him. “Fuck, c’mere.”
He yanks him into a kiss and whimpers against Graham’s mouth as he slows his movements to deep, grinding thrusts.
“I don’t wanna cum yet,” Graham says softly. “I want you to get what you need.”
Donnie slams his head back against the couch with a gasp as the head of Graham’s dick fucks right against his prostate. He feels like he might end up crying, which is so stupid, but it feels so good. And then Graham’s mouth is on his neck, and he can hear and feel him panting raggedly as he stills inside of him.
He has to laugh a little at that, bringing his hand to Graham’s hair and scratching his nails over his scalp. “Yeah?”
“You have no idea,” Graham says, his voice muffled, “how good your ass feels right now. Or how you look. I’m doing multiplication in my head.”
Donnie squirms a little and grins when Graham hisses against his neck. “I’ll let you use my cock ring next time.”
Graham lifts his head and blinks at him, his eyeliner even more smudged. He looks like a Tim Burton character, which is still kinda hot. “Next time? You want there to be—”
Donnie looks down, even though all he sees is their chests pressed together, and then back up at him. “I mean…yeah? Don’t you?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d—” When he cuts himself off, his cheeks flush, and Donnie presses his hand against one to feel how warm he is.
He doesn’t know how to communicate how much fun he’s been having ever since they ran into each other at the bar, how good it feels to fuck and be fucked by Graham, how endearing he is, how annoying he is, how beautiful he is, or how bad Donnie wants to actually get to know this selfless, righteous weirdo. So he just kisses him and unhooks his leg from the back of the couch to wrap it around Graham’s hip.
When Graham starts moving again, Donnie encourages him softly and keeps their eyes locked so Graham can see how he’s feeling. Donnie’s having to fight to keep his eyes open and forward, because they keep wanting to close or roll back, but it’s worth it to see the determination and intensity and awe in Graham’s eyes.
“Touch yourself,” Graham says softly, and Donnie wraps a hand around himself. His dick’s hard, hot, and leaking like crazy. “That’s good. Keep doing that. Don’t stop, okay?”
Donnie nods and catches his lips between his teeth as he jerks himself off, but then a thumb is pressed against his bottom lip.
“Let me hear you.”
And that breaks something inside Donnie, because he’s barely been holding it together this whole time. He opens his mouth in a gasp and pleads with Graham not to stop.
Graham’s head bows toward his, his curls dragging through the sweat on Donnie’s forehead. “I won’t. I want you to cum, can you cum for me?”
Donnie nods and curls forward until their foreheads and noses are pressed together. “Y-yeah.”
“Good.” Graham runs a hand over Donnie’s pecs and collarbone and the side of his neck, his long fingers curling around him. “Fuck, you’re so good. Show me.”
And that snaps the bowstring holding Donnie’s composure together. His eyes flood with tears, and Graham’s fucking him so hard and so good and just the way Donnie’s been wanting for months. When he cums, his breath sticks in his lungs and his muscles lock and he feels like everything freezes for a long moment before it all rushes back in as he shoots cum across his chest and abs.
Graham kisses him through the aftershocks, and Donnie shivers with overstimulation as Graham thrusts in a few times before he’s whining high in the back of his throat as he cums.
When Graham pulls out, Donnie lays on the couch and floats on the feeling of having just had the brains fucked out of him until something warm and damp wipes over his chest and stomach. He gropes blindly for what seems to be a kitchen towel and wipes his dick and ass clean of lube, and then he listens to Graham’s quiet footsteps. When the couch dips again with his weight, Donnie cracks an eye open and opens his arm in a universal request for a snuggle.
“Mm,” he hums when Graham settles on him. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Graham replies, kissing him gently.
They lay like that for a long moment, and then Donnie’s stomach growls. He’s slow to sit them up, feeling a little hazy still. His vision is blurry as hell, too. He opts to sit criss-cross instead and leans over to rub his cheek on Graham’s shoulder.
“Feed me,” he mumbles happily.
A piece of kimbap gets held in front of his mouth, and Donnie opens it, making a surprised noise when Graham shoves the whole thing in.
“I don’t want rice on the couch,” Graham says as Donnie sits up and chews while he glares blearily at him.
“How are you more careful with my ass than my mouth?” Donnie complains, reaching out to pull the coffee table closer. He picks up a Roku remote and hits the power button.
They argue over what to watch until they turn on Archer until they finish eating.
When Donnie gets into Graham's bed, he pulls him close and buries his face in his neck.
“Do you snore?” he asks.
“I don't know,” Graham admits. “I don't think so.”
Donnie hums, ignoring the sad implication that no one ever stays over to find out. “I do sometimes.”
“Okay.” Graham’s fingers curl over his forearm. “I can live with that.”
—
It takes three days for Donnie to hoist Graham onto a kitchen counter and ask, “Do you want to be my boyfriend or not?”
Graham's legs go around Donnie's hips, and he lets out a little huff that makes Donnie's hair tickle his forehead. “Yes. That's not a very romantic way to ask me, though.”
Donnie grins and slots their lips together, lifting Graham from the counter to take him to the bedroom to celebrate.
—
There's a small party happening the week before Halloween, and Donnie's convinced Graham to come with him so he can meet his friends. They're the friends he made at school, so it's a crowd of queer liberal arts majors and former theater kids and mellow straight guys. Donnie gets to enjoy smoking weed on a back porch while he watches his boyfriend debate with a guy from Donnie's medieval history class about some horror movie. He's gesticulating wildly at one point and makes the guy laugh, which seems to surprise Graham.
When he looks over at Donnie, Donnie knows he's got a dopey smile on his face. Because it's a nice night, and he's in love.
“Huh,” he says, handing the joint back to Sammy.
They elbow him lightly as they take it. “What's up?”
“I think I'm gonna marry him,” Donnie says, sure as anything, and they choke on the smoke they're inhaling.
—
Graham’s pacing around his apartment, and Donnie's watching him, feeling helpless. They'd sheltered in place and curled up together knowing there was nothing they could do if a chunk of flaming rock fell on them. But now the debris has stopped falling from the sky, and Graham has a news livestream playing on his TV. They still have power, because Echo Park seems to have been pretty unscathed.
“She'll be okay, right?” Graham says for the twentieth time since they found out what was happening to two of the women who saved them.
“I think so,” Donnie says, because he doesn't want to make any empty promises.
He gets up and becomes a wall for Graham to walk into, and then Graham's arms are around his waist and his face is pressed into his shoulder.
Onscreen, the capsule is falling and the chute opens, and Donnie holds his breath. When it lands, it looks bad, but then the reporter is saying that they're fine, everyone's fine.
“She's okay,” Donnie says, just in case Graham didn't hear somehow.
“Okay,” Graham whispers, squeezing tighter.
—
Donnie walks into the police station with Graham in tow and asks to see Athena Grant.
“Uh-oh,” she says, appearing with a cup of coffee and a raised eyebrow. “What'd he do now?”
“Nothing,” Donnie says, ready to put himself between her and Graham.
“We're glad you're okay,” Graham says, opening his messenger bag. “I, uh, I got this for you.”
The yellow survival handbook gets handed over to her, and she stares at the cover for a long time.
“There's a part about landing a plane, but I think you can do that already,” Graham adds, and she looks at him for a long moment before she bursts out laughing.
Sergeant Grant sets her coffee on the desk behind them and flips through the book. “You know what? I'll keep this one in my purse.” When she tucks it under her arm, she looks at Donnie. “And where do you fit into all this?”
“Oh, he's my boyfriend now,” Graham says, and she looks between the two of them with something like shocked fascination.
“Are you fucking with me right now?” she asks.
“Nope,” Donnie replies, taking Graham’s hand as he steps back. “No, we're together now. And he's going to law school soon.”
She looks impressed and more than a little proud. “Well, look at you. You're gonna put that sense of justice to good use. Just don't be one of those scummy ambulance chasers, I hate those guys. You know what? The coffee here sucks, my son's making me into a snob. Buy me something nicer across the street, and I'll let you ask me something about space.”
They do take her across the street and sit down with coffee. Donnie feels a little like an accessory, because Sergeant Grant and Graham already have a rapport. But he likes it. He likes sitting back and watching people like Graham, too.
“You're being awful quiet,” she says when Graham gets up to get a refill.
“Just enjoying the company,” he says. “Thanks for caring about him.”
“He's a good boy, even if he's a little weird.” She makes a face and seems to reconsider that. “Eh, he's a lot weird. But his heart's in a good place. He cares about the world and making things right. He just needs to find that balance, but it looks like he's getting there. And you seem like you finally calmed down.”
Donnie rolls his eyes, because he's not an angry guy. “You try having a self righteous gremlin fuck with your clothes for three months and tell me you wouldn't be mad.”
“You sure you were just mad?” she teases.
“No, definitely not,” he admits with a grin.
“Good for you two.” Her smile softens a little, and she looks far away for a moment. “Just keep making each other happy. Love him, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. If you love him.”
Donnie watches Graham glare at the back of a man who reaches in front of him to grab a coffee stirrer, but he taps his hip ten times and waits for him to move before he pours some half and half into his coffee. “I do. A lot, I think.”
He smiles as Graham walks back, and Graham gives him a funny look.
“What?” he asks suspiciously.
“Nothing, you just look cute,” Donnie says, which isn't a lie.
Graham sits down next to him and bumps their shoulders together. “Shut up.”
Across from them, Sergeant Grant rolls her eyes, but Donnie can see she's hiding a smile behind her cup.
—
“Buff Misty and slutty Pikachu,” Donnie suggests from where he's lounging on the couch.
“No,” Graham says for the nth time, because he apparently hates every costume idea Donnie comes up with.
“Buff Mickey and femboy Minnie.” When Graham makes a face, Donnie sighs. “Dude, I don't know, I'm just throwing shit at the wall now. Halloween’s in two days. I was gonna be Incredible Hulk Hogan, but I don't want to paint myself green.”
Graham squints at the wall for a second. “Hulk with a blonde wig?”
“And the mustache.”
“That's so stupid,” he says, laughing. He steps back from the thing he's painting. He's apparently gotten into painting really realistic but mundane still life stuff, and right now he's working on a realistic looking doorknob with a warped reflection of his own face that he took a picture of. “But funny. I don't like the whole ‘slutty version of x’ thing unless it's funny.”
Donnie thinks for a while. “Slutty haunted doll, buff Victorian possessed kid.”
Graham chews on the end of the paintbrush handle for a second. “Better.”
“Slutty Frankenstein, slutty but buff Frankenstein's monster?”
“Thank you for naming them properly, also that's just Rocky Horror,” he says, looking down at himself. “I'm not wearing a corset. Or heels. Not if we're going out.”
Donnie looks him up and down in his little shorts and paint covered apron. “What if we're staying in?”
Graham fixes him with a look that doesn't do anything to dissuade how horny the idea makes Donnie. It actually kind of makes it worse. “You said you wanted to go out.”
He spreads his thighs, because he's also wearing little shorts. “Maybe I changed my mind.”
The paintbrush gets dropped in a jar with some paint thinning chemical, the apron gets dropped on the drop cloth on the floor, and Graham ends up sitting astride his hips.
“You sure you'll be able to behave if I wear something like any of that in public anyway?” he asks, like Donnie's an animal who can't keep his hands to himself. It's a little hot.
Actually, it's really hot. Graham being kind of a dick does it for him.
“If it's funny,” Donnie concedes, snaking a hand up the thigh of Graham's shorts to feel him getting hard. “You saying you don't want to get fucked in a bathroom stall by a beefy Hello Kitty?”
Graham looks appalled by the idea. “Hello Kitty?”
“No bad ideas in a brainstorm.” He rolls his dick against Graham. “I could be Jackson Pollock and make you look like one of his paintings.”
“You're so gross,” Graham mutters, grinding down on him.
“You wanna fuck me so bad,” Donnie taunts, then an idea hits him. “Slutty Van Gogh, buff painting. Can you paint me?”
Graham reaches down and presses the heel of his hand against his dick. “Yeah, we can do that.”
Donnie grins and sits up. “Excellent.”
He manhandles Graham around in his lap and tugs his shorts down to jerk him off while he pins his arms behind his back and hooks his feet over his calves and shins to keep his legs open.
“You're so fucking pretty, baby,” Donnie pants against his neck while he rubs his dick against Graham's lower back. “You gonna cum for me?”
Graham whines and nods, and when he cums all over his stomach and chest, Donnie rubs his hand over the mess and uses it to jerk himself off onto his back. Then he wraps his arms around Graham and kisses his neck and shoulders while Graham pants.
“Don't make a body paint joke right now,” Graham says, getting up on shaky legs.
The one Donnie was about to make dies on his tongue. “You don't know me.”
“Yeah,” Graham says, bending over to kiss him. “I do. I'm gonna see if I have a straw hat.”
—
Graham has a bandage around his head and paint on his face to look like a self-portrait instead of the actual artist, and he's wearing a shirt that's open to his stomach and shorts that have basically no inseam. Donnie’s somehow ended up mostly as a buff cafe scene instead of Starry Night, because Graham has other favorite paintings. He's got the sunflowers on his back, almond blossoms on his legs, and he's still buzzing from how hard he came while he rode Graham’s dick before they got ready.
They end up at a couple of clubs, and Donnie loves when either of them gets asked what they're dressed as and they get to say and then point out that their boyfriend is the other half of the costume. He does get waylaid by a guy who looks like an elf king who's definitely on mushrooms and loves all the stuff painted on Donnie. Graham finds a sacrificial twink dressed as the Christmas tree light wall from Stranger Things to throw at the guy and rescues him.
“This is ridiculous,” Graham says in his ear, laughing.
Donnie nods and cups his hand around Graham's jaw to tilt his uncovered ear toward his mouth. “Good or bad?”
“Good.” Graham hands him a capped test tube shot. “I never liked going out on Halloween. But it's fun with you.”
They down the shots together and end up on the edge of the dancefloor. Donnie keeps getting bumped with wings and tails and trains and whatever else people have on them, and Graham always reaches out to cover his head to protect him. He looks like art, and he's smiling at Donnie.
“I love you,” Donnie says in his ear, but the music swallows it up. So he pulls Graham out of the crowd and onto the equally crowded sidewalk and repeats himself.
“Are you sure?” Graham asks, which isn't exactly the response Donnie had been wanting. But it's not the worst thing.
“Yeah,” he says, taking his hand. “Yeah, I'm sure.”
Graham's bumped by a passing Maleficent and ends up pressed against Donnie's chest. “Me, too. I worried about trauma bonding or whatever. And it's only been a few weeks. But I just—I do. I love you. But I didn't want to scare you off by clinging too much.”
Donnie kisses him, lifts him, spins him a little even though his shoulder’s aching. He feels like he's in a movie or something.
Their paint is transferring to each other, but Donnie doesn't care. He grabs Graham's hand and weaves them through the crowd to go to the next bar.
—
Donnie has dinner with his parents when they come visit, and he pokes at the just kind of okay seafood pasta he'd ordered.
“I have a boyfriend,” he says, because that hadn't gone over real well the last time he'd told his dad about a boyfried. He doesn't care anymore. It's also been four years since then, and his parents have gotten aggressively liberal. Well, his mom has. His dad's just sort of ready to agree with her instead of fight about it.
“Oh?” his dad says, not looking up from the email he's been reading on his phone for the last few minutes. “Since when? I thought you and Gwen were going to work things out.”
Gwen isn't even his last girlfriend, she's three girlfriends ago. And she'd cheated on him with his classmate. Thankfully, his mom looks just as annoyed as Donnie feels.
“Jer, put your phone away,” she says. “What's his name?”
“Graham,” he replies as his dad starts putting his phone away. “He's the guy who I got trapped with. The one who restarted my heart and saved my arm.”
That has both of their attention. He's an only child. Almost dying had been scary for them, he knows that. It would've been scary regardless, but he’s their only kid, he’s been their only focus his whole life. He remembers them sitting in his hospital room in shifts and how it was the only time his dad had cried in front of him since Grandma died.
“We ran into each other last month, and we started dating. And it got serious really fast,” he says, setting his fork down and looking between them. “And I love him, so just be cool when you meet him, okay? He's kind of intense, but he's a good guy. So just don't do that thing you guys do and—”
“Donovan,” his dad says firmly, and Donnie's cheeks burn.
“Just give him a chance,” he says, more to the tablecloth than to them directly. “Please.”
“We will,” his mom says. “I'm sure he's very nice. What does he do?”
“He went back to school to be a lawyer.”
“What school?” his dad asks.
“UCLA.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Which is a good school.”
That kills whatever his dad had been about to say about Berkeley, thankfully. His dad had been so disappointed Donnie hadn't gone to UC Berkeley, but Donnie had lied about applying in the first place. He’d wanted to be in Los Angeles and try to do UCLA all the way through to law school. He'd put his own law school career on hold while he recovered, but he's set to go back when Graham will be in law school next fall. They'll be a year and two quarters apart, since the earthquake had hit halfway through spring quarter, but they'll be there together for a bit.
“Good for him,” his mom says, grabbing a piece of bread from the plate in the middle of the table. “We'll have to meet him before we leave. Do you know if he'll be free tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I already checked.” He goes back to poking at his pasta. “He doesn't really talk to his parents. They're homophobic, and there’s some other stuff. So, y'know, don't ask about his family. Please.”
“That's a shame,” his dad says. “Maybe they'll change.”
Donnie glances up at his dad, who'd once called Donnie's ex-boyfriend a “passing mistake.” He seems to mean it. He's smiling blandly, at least.
“I hope so,” Donnie says, clearing his throat. “Thanks.”
He knows they won't change, knows that Graham doesn’t care if they do at this point. But the fact that his dad's said it isn't nothing.
“Does he like football?” his dad asks.
Donnie stabs a piece of mussel with his fork tines and snorts softly. “No. He's, like, a weird guy who paints and watches movies no one's ever heard of.”
“Maybe he'll broaden your horizons,” his mom says with a pointed look at his dad.
He thinks about the fact that he's got a collection of panties on the way so he can rip them off his boyfriend, then he tries not to think about it. “Yep.”
When he gulps down some water and coughs, he hopes it covers how red his cheeks get.
—
He drives to Graham's place and taps on the door before putting his key in. His boyfriend's curled on the couch with his laptop and has a plate of pizza rolls on the end table.
“I brought you lasagna,” he says, holding up the bag. “And cake.”
Graham smiles, tapping at his keyboard. “So I'm meeting your parents tomorrow?”
“You are meeting my parents tomorrow,” Donnie confirms, setting the bag down on the coffee table. “You in the zone?”
“Nope,” Graham says, setting the laptop next to the pizza rolls and looking up at him. “Wanna see what came in the mail?”
Donnie bends to kiss him, knows it’s probably something sexy based on the way Graham’s fingers curl in his shirt. “Let me put the food away.”
He puts everything in the fridge as Graham opens an Amazon package. The pleated fabric inside is quickly pulled out, and then Graham makes a confused noise. When Donnie leans over to look, Graham holds the skirt up. It's a lot wider than it should be.
“I think they sent me the wrong size,” Graham says, looking inside the waistband. “Yeah, they did. Damn.”
Donnie kisses his temple. “We'll exchange it.”
“It's so annoying, though, how hard is it to—”
Donnie cuts him off with a kiss. “It's an honest mistake. And they'll let us exchange it. And we can still fuck without it.”
Graham sighs and holds up again. “Yeah. Unless you want to wear it.”
It's a joke. It's definitely a joke. But Donnie grabs the skirt and holds it to his hips. It looks like it'll fit.
“I mean—” He looks at Graham with a shrug. “I'll give it a shot.”
For a moment, Graham has a look of visible panic and then his face goes blank before flushing bright pink. It's the face he makes when he has an extremely horny thought and worries that someone can suddenly read his mind, and Donnie hopes he never stops doing it. It's the “Graham.exe has stopped working” face.
“Can I borrow your socks?” he asks, and Graham nods quickly. “Thanks, babe.”
He opens Graham's sock drawer and pulls out the long ones with the stripes on top, which Donnie might be able to get partway up his thighs. He might have to replace them, though, if he stretches them out. He'll have to start budgeting for all the clothes he wrecks, because he's already had to buy Graham three new pairs of panties. It's why he bought the ones strictly for tearing, but those are stuck in Reno or something.
Speaking of which, there's absolutely none that Graham has that'll fit him. So Donnie has to freeball it, which is fine, but a boner is probably going to fuck up the lines of the skirt. The fact that he's worried about that at all is proof that he's changed a lot in the short time they've been together.
He goes into the bathroom and steals the eyeliner. It's kind of weird how not weird any of this is, but he's also embraced being a horny freak with his boyfriend. It's awesome. He likes having his boyfriend fuck him blind, even though nothing about Graham screams “top” to anyone who isn't Donnie. He likes how much of a freak Graham is, how he'd shown Donnie his pretty extensive toy collection without any shame or hesitation, how he doesn't feel like he needs to explain anything beyond it making him feel good.
Donnie opts to get dressed in the bathroom, partially so he can make sure he doesn't look completely dumb before he steps out. He also likes the idea of Graham waiting to see him. The skirt flares out because of his ass, and the socks do stretch more than he thought they would and leave just a few inches of bare thigh between the tops of them and the hem of the skirt.
“Hell yeah,” he says to himself, doing a little turn so he can see himself in the mirror. He folds his clothes up and leaves them on the counter, checks himself in the mirror again, and opens the door.
Graham is sitting back on the bed wearing nothing, his knees spread as he watches Donnie step out from behind the door. He licks his lips and leans back onto his elbows, and Donnie wishes he'd taken the time to open himself up in the bathroom so he could just climb on and ride him.
He turns around and lifts the skirt a little to flash his ass, looking over his shoulder with a smirk. He's got a nice ass, and he knows Graham likes it. Hell, Graham worships it whenever he can.
“You like it?” Donnie asks, pressing his hand over his dick to keep it from lifting the skirt. Graham swears softly, and his knee twitches like he's about to move. “Babe?”
And then Graham's on his feet and walking toward him, reaching for him so that Donnie's got fingers digging into his hip and hiking up the skirt to grab his ass. Graham's breathing a little funny, but he lurches up on his toes to kiss Donnie hard enough that he almost stumbles back a little.
“I didn't think you'd be so—” Graham licks his lips and brings his hand around to reach under the skirt to touch Donnie's cock, which feels obscene. “You're so pretty.”
Goosebumps break out over Donnie's skin, and his hair stands up on the back of his neck and his arms. He's a big dude, so big that he's considered leaning out a little because he worries he's going to start doing that gorilla stance that really big guys have to do when their chests and biceps are too wide. But Graham thinks he's pretty.
“You like it, right?” Graham asks, and Donnie swallows hard before nodding. “I can tell.”
He punctuates that with a squeeze around the head of Donnie's cock, and Donnie lets himself be moved toward the dresser. It's a lower one, about hip height for him, and he bends over it with his forearms pressed to the top of it. The skirt gets flipped up, and Graham rubs two fingers across his hole before he slaps gently across his ass.
Donnie moans against his bicep and pushes his ass out. “Harder.”
Graham smacks his ass hard, just once. But it makes Donnie's knees go weak and his cock twitches, and Graham wraps his hand around him again, pulling back gently.
“Close your legs.”
He does, and Graham’s hands skim over his hamstrings and up to his ass. Having his dick tucked back feels a little weird, but then Graham's palm presses against the underside and his tongue curls over the head. Donnie squeezes his thighs together and bites his lip, pushing back against Graham's mouth with a soft moan.
“Is it stupid to want a picture of you like this?” Graham asks, his nose brushing Donnie's balls before his mouth follows.
Donnie's having a hard time not spreading his legs and begging for Graham's fingers or tongue or cock or whatever's on offer. He'd take one of Graham’s dildos at this point—maybe the one with the ridges or the big one that makes Graham’s stomach bulge a little. When Donnie gets a flash of that, he shudders and feels his dick leak precum onto Graham's fingers.
“Babe?” Graham says, and Donnie realizes he was asked a question.
“Go ahead.” He crosses his ankles and settles in more, his ass arching a little higher.
When Graham stands up, his dick bumps the back of Donnie's thigh and he almost tells him to forget it, to come back and just fuck him. But Graham holds the skirt up, and Donnie wants to look back so bad but can't without unbalancing himself.
“Look,” Graham says, sounding breathless. He leans over Donnie's shoulder and shows him the phone screen. It's like something from a Twitter or Reddit account trying to promo their OnlyFans. Graham's hand is pressing against the top of his ass with the skirt bunched under his fingers, and all Donnie sees of himself is his ass, his cock, the backs of his thighs, and the top of the socks. When Graham swipes a few photos over, it's the head of Donnie's cock just barely showing under the hem. The next one was taken a little higher, so it just looks like some girl—a broad one—bent over in a skirt.
“Holy shit,” Donnie breathes, swiping through them again. “That's, like, stupid hot.”
“Yeah,” Graham agrees, reaching back to tease his fingertips at Donnie's ass. “I’m gonna fuck you in your pretty skirt, okay?”
Donnie drops his head to the top of the dresser as his brain changes over to static. “Jesus.”
“Okay?” Graham prompts.
“Okay.” Donnie looks over at him, his face half hidden by his bicep and shoulder. “Thank you.”
Graham flushes and kisses Donnie's forehead. He's always so fucking cute, it drives Donnie crazy. He gets cuteness aggression around him so much that he worries he's going to squeeze him to death one day.
He gets a flash of Graham pinned by concrete and inhales sharply, pushing back from the dresser. It's one of those intrusive thoughts that hits at the worst times, and this is maybe the worst time.
But Graham, unpinned and safe, is there to hug him from the side and ask if it's his shoulder.
“No,” Donnie replies, exhaling slow to let the image go. “No, just—I gotta watch what I think sometimes.”
“Okay,” Graham says, because he knows. It doesn't happen to him as much, but it does happen. His are tied more to nightmares, Donnie's are when he's awake. “If I eat you out, would that help?”
The question, earnest and sincere, startles a laugh out of Donnie. “I mean, it wouldn't hurt.”
Graham's hand presses to Donnie's back between his shoulder blades. “Do you want to sit on my face or bend over the dresser again?”
“I like the dresser,” Donnie says, smiling at him and leaning down to kiss him. “I love you.”
He's not going to get tired of the soft awed expression on Graham's face whenever he says it. “I love you, too.”
They'd talked about it after Halloween, worried that it was too fast, and realized they were on a different timeline because of what they'd gone through together. So they just let it happen, and now Donnie gets to see how happy Graham gets when he's told he's loved and gets to feel the same fluttering, burning fondness in his chest when Graham responds in kind.
“Bend over,” Graham says, smacking Donnie's ass.
Donnie shivers and does as he's told. “Yes, Daddy.”
Graham hesitates before kneeling behind him again. “I know that was a joke, but—”
“When I'm in the skirt, you can be my daddy,” Donnie says, getting comfortable and resting his cheek on his folded arms with a smile. “But that's it.”
Long fingers spread him open, and warm breath teases his hole. “Then be a good girl and spread your legs a little.”
Donnie does, hyper aware of the way his dick bobs between his legs. This is already moving from a thing they're saying as a bit to something that's going to get his dick hard at the worst times. Which is pretty much their entire vibe as a couple.
Graham eats him out until his legs are shaking, and Donnie feels like he's several shots into the night. Everything's a blur of feeling and sound and sensitivity. He feels wet everywhere. He's drooling and panting and sweating and leaking, and Graham's saliva is dripping down his taint and balls. When he starts working fingers in, Donnie tries to straighten up a little to help in some way, but his arms feel heavier than usual.
“Hey,” Graham says softly, standing and wrapping an arm around Donnie. “You okay?”
He nods but doesn't know if that's actually true or not. He suddenly needs to see Graham's face and twists around to look. Graham's chin and mouth are pink and look damp, and his pupils are huge.
“I'm going to put you on the bed,” Graham says, decisive and sure and like he knows it's what Donnie needs. And it is. The second he's nestled in Graham's pile of pillows, he feels himself sink into the softness and rubs his cheek on one contentedly. “We can take a break.”
“No,” Donnie murmurs, shifting until his legs are spread, his heels pressing against his ass so he's exposed to Graham again. “No, c’mere.”
Graham slicks himself up and climbs between Donnie's knees, pressing into him and settling on Donnie as he kisses him languidly through the slide and stretch. For a moment, Donnie feels like he's one of the pillows. He's something for Graham to sink into and feel contented by. He's also big enough for Graham to use him as a human bean bag, which makes him smile against Graham's mouth.
A hand slides up the outside of his thigh and hikes up the skirt, and Graham breaks the kiss, biting his lip and fucking smoothly into Donnie. It’s a perfect slide and grind and stretch, and Donnie tips his head back and feels like his only reason for existing is to be fucked like this.
When Graham grabs the skirt in his fist, Donnie hooks his leg around Graham’s thigh and reaches between them to wrap his hand around his cock, stroking himself in a tight, slow squeeze.
He licks his lips and watches the way Graham tracks the movement. “C’mon, Daddy, give it to me.”
Graham plants a hand against the headboard and drives into him harder, the tendons in his neck straining. “Like that?” he grits out.
Donnie goes lax under him and chokes out something that he hopes sounds like a “Yes,” but he’s too busy feeling like fireworks are going off in his brain and like there’s lava pooling in his groin. He cums with a whine and pulls Graham into a kiss, wrapping his legs around him and trying to pull him deeper. He doesn't want it to be over yet.
When Graham breaks the kiss and looks between them, he rubs his thumb over the underside of Donnie's dick like he's trying to get the last drop of cum out. Donnie reaches down and presses his hand to Graham's, holding it there so he can grind against it and ride a wave of sensitivity.
“You need more?” Graham asks, and Donnie nods, biting his lip. “I’ve got you. Just—just give me a second.”
And then he pulls out, which Donnie hates, but then Graham reaches for the bigger bottom drawer of his nightstand and grabs a deep blue dildo that doesn't have any distinctive dick features beyond being phallic and having a vaguely bulbous tip that angles forward a little. The bottom of it is flared instead of having anything resembling balls. Donnie's watched him use it on himself, but he's never had the chance to try it out.
“I'm not going to last,” Graham explains, lubing up the toy. “Not without a break.”
When the toy slides in, it nestles against Donnie's prostate and makes him grab for Graham's shoulder with a gasp.
“I've got you,” Graham repeats, settling against his side and drawing him into a kiss as he fucks the toy into him.
Without the sound of skin slapping, it's just a wet, obscene noise. It makes Donnie flush, because it feels so slutty. He's never felt slutty before, not like this. He's wearing a skirt and thigh high socks while his boyfriend fucks him with a toy that makes him let out whimpering little moans that he can't hold back, because it feels so good. He sucks on Graham's tongue and whines when the toy gets pressed against his prostate a little longer than before.
Graham hums encouragingly and does it again, shifting it a little, and it's like a flash goes off behind Donnie's eyelids for a second. He feels his mouth flood with saliva, and he almost drools as Graham breaks the kiss. His boyfriend shifts until he's between Donnie's knees again, and then his other hand is squeezing Donnie's pec, his nipple trapped between two of Graham's fingers.
He arches into the feeling but pushes his hips down more on the toy, and he can feel the skirt brushing over the sensitive skin of his cock. He's enveloped into soft pillows and feels so exposed but safe, and it threatens to overwhelm him. Donnie bites his lip and squeezes his other pec, his hand pushing against his dick through the skirt, and Graham's watching all of it with a hungry expression.
“‘M gonna cum,” Donnie manages to get out. “You—can you—”
Graham pulls the toy out and immediately fucks back into him, his mouth going to Donnie's nipple while his hand reaches under the skirt. When Donnie cums again, he's sobbing through it and feels like it's being torn out of him.
After, he feels like he's in a haze, everything going a little numb and tingling in his extremities. He shudders as he lifts the skirt away from his now overly sensitive dick, and Graham hikes his thighs up as he fucks him fast and hard.
“C'mon, baby, c'mon, you did so fucking good,” Donnie says, though his tongue feels thick in his mouth. But he needs Graham to know, because he knows that Graham will keep going as long as Donnie needs him to, that he'll do everything he can to make sure Donnie’s satisfied.
Graham's fingers dig into his thighs, and his brows draw together as he drives in and tenses, his cock twitching as he cums inside Donnie. When Donnie wraps him up in his arms and legs, he smiles as Graham nuzzles under his jaw and pants softly against his neck.
“I love you so fucking much,” Donnie mumbles. He's ready to knock out, he's done. He can't imagine how Graham feels, considering he's the one who did all the work.
“Love you,” Graham replies, his lips dragging against Donnie's skin. He lifts his head and smiles at him. “I don't think we can exchange it anymore.”
Donnie smiles back and runs his fingers through Graham's messy hair. “Nah. There's, like, a lot of jizz on this one.”
Graham makes a face, and Donnie kisses him loudly before he lets him get up. While he lays on the bed and plays with the hem of the skirt and reaches down to press his fingers to his hole to catch the cum that's leaking out, Graham grabs a towel and some water.
They clean up, and Donnie grabs Graham's phone while they're curled up on the couch so Graham can eat his lasagna while they watch a YouTube video on the TV. He holds it in front of Graham's face to unlock it and sends himself the pictures.
“We should make an OnlyFans,” he jokes, only it's not totally a joke. They'd maybe be able to stop dipping into their settlement money from the collapse to do things like buy groceries. He's also thought about it pretty much all the time since the first night they hooked up.
“I thought about it,” Graham admits. “After the toy video.”
The ‘toy video’ was one that Donnie took of Graham riding his toys for him while Donnie asked him questions about them and jerked off. It's the spank bank material for Donnie now. It would make money, it's stupidly hot. Graham looks so good taking dick, even fake dick, and hearing him try to answer clearly while he's wrecking himself on a huge dildo is just hot.
“I wouldn't want anyone to see our faces,” Graham says, and Donnie nods. It's a bad idea to do that if they're going to be lawyers. Well, it's not as bad an idea as it used to be. But there's a level of anonymity that Donnie would feel better about.
“Yeah, we'll look at it,” Donnie says, hooking his arm around Graham's knees when he swings his feet up onto the couch to tuck them under Donnie’s thigh. “I’m surprised you don't already have one.”
Graham raises an eyebrow at him from where he's slouched down in one of Donnie's hoodies. “Me?”
“Babe, you've got, like, a lot of sex toys,” Donnie points out. “You never thought about filming any of that and making money on it?”
“Not really, no. I'm not, y'know.” He doesn't continue, he just shrugs.
Donnie leans over and kisses him after Graham lifts himself up a bit. “Yeah, you are.”
Graham smiles and settles back onto the pillow he was laying on. “You don't even know what I was going to say.”
“Yeah, but you still are,” Donnie says, smirking and turning his attention back to his phone. “They want to go to the aquarium at the pier tomorrow. You down?”
“Sure.” Graham wiggles his toes under Donnie's thigh. “Do you think they'll like me?”
Donnie's used to how his parents can be. They've mellowed a little in the last few years, but they're image conscious and they've got high standards for who he brings around. Graham's not from a “good” family, he doesn't even talk to most of his family, and he's intense and a little weird. He goes to therapy for his obsessive-compulsive personality disorder, a thing Donnie hadn't even known existed, because otherwise he has trouble controlling it. He's admitted to not being great at relationships because his mom was completely checked out and his dad was controlling and overbearing.
“I hope so,” Donnie says, setting his phone on the arm of the couch so he can focus on Graham as he tries to figure out how to word this. “But it's kinda hard to make them happy all the time. That's their problem, not yours, okay? I don't want you to think there's something wrong with you if they decide to be assholes.”
“There's a lot wrong with me.” Graham smiles, but it looks a little sad and resigned. “You can't deny that.”
Donnie snorts softly and reaches out to take one of his hands. “No, because I wanted to beat the shit out of you for months. But we didn't like each other, because we didn't know each other. They've got time to get to know you. Then they'll love you.”
Graham's teeth press into his bottom lip, and his cheeks get pink, his eyes a little wider before he blinks a few times. He nods, and Donnie ends up half on top of him as he kisses him some more, and then he starts peppering kisses all over his face until Graham's giggling. When he pulls back and sees the giant grin on Graham's face, Donnie's stomach flutters.
“Thank you,” Graham says softly, his thumb rubbing through Donnie's beard on his cheek.
Donnie bumps their noses together before kissing him again. “For what?”
“Being you.” He pulls Donnie into a few more kisses before hugging him tight, pulling all of Donnie's weight onto him.
“They didn't always like me,” Donnie admits into Graham's collar bone.
He was a lot to handle as a kid because of the ADHD and the dyslexia, and he'd lashed out a lot because he was always being told to just settle down and care. He hated that, hated people assuming he didn't care or that he wasn't trying. He still hates it. Then there'd been his coming out and the way his parents acted like he was a gay time bomb, because no one believed he was actually still into girls, too. It was easier to be angry and a fuck up for a long time, and then he'd realized he was ruining his own life out of spite.
Graham had drawn that out of him again at first, and Donnie had hated him for it. Now that they actually see and understand each other, he can't imagine life without him. He knows that they're going to end up married one day, that they'll get to watch each other change and grow over the course of their lives. It makes his chest feel warm and tight, like there's not enough space for his heart anymore now that Graham's in it.
“Then they've got bad taste, so I don't care about impressing them anymore.” Graham presses kisses to the side of Donnie's head. “Cake?”
Donnie raises himself up and smiles down at him. “I'll get it.”
—
It’s going well. It's going better than Donnie expected, at least. Graham's still a little shy, but he cracks wry little jokes that make Donnie and his parents laugh or smile. It turns out he's good at navigating crowded areas. They make Donnie feel a little twitchy, his dad gets impatient, and his mom mentally checks out when they're waiting in lines. But Graham's patient and waits. When they're in the gift shop, he lets a little girl carefully read every name magnet for a couple of minutes before he leans over and asks her what her name is.
“Anna,” she says in a small, clear voice.
Donnie hangs back at the stuffed animals with his mom and watches as Graham grabs a magnet and hands it to the girl.
“It was in the wrong place,” he says. “People don't always put things back correctly, and it makes it hard for other people.”
She nods very seriously like she's agreeing completely that it's a serious problem with the world. When she thanks him and goes back toward a bored looking man, Donnie slips an arm around him and kisses his temple.
“Half of these are in the wrong spot,” Graham mutters.
Donnie reaches out and grabs a ‘Matthew’ that's in the wrong spot and moves it two rows down to its compatriots. Graham's been nervous all day, and it feels unfair to tell him to let it go completely. They fix them while they judge what's considered a common name these days, because how many people actually name their kids Oakley? It just makes Donnie think of his dad's sunglasses.
“Here,” Graham says, grabbing one that says ‘Donovan.’
They find one for Graham, too, and Donnie grabs one for each of his parents. They're looking at the cheese boards and stuff that cost a ton that no one ever seems to actually buy except for yuppies from Santa Barbara. His mom's got about a half a dozen of them.
Donnie grabs a small hand blown glass sting ray and pays for it along with the tank top he'd found found for himself. They reconvene outside the gift shop and try to figure out where to eat. He's already warned Graham that he just lets his parents choose, because they're more picky than he is but have good taste. They also always pay, so it's better to just let them hash it out. It gives him a chance to take some selfies with Graham that has the ocean in the distance behind them.
They end up walking away from the pier and going to some bar that has fancy burgers and cocktails but seems pretty relaxed, which is exactly what they all want after being in an aquarium and at the pier for a few hours.
It's when they're in the relaxed atmosphere that Donnie's dad finally asks Graham to tell them about himself, and Graham squeezes Donnie’s hand under the table.
“Uh, there's not much to tell,” he says. “I'm about to start law school. I'm from Ventura. Well, I was born in San Luis Obispo, but we moved to Ventura when I was eight. And then I moved here for school and stayed.”
“And what does your family do?” his dad asks, but he seems to realize his mistake as soon as the panic and anger flare in Donnie's chest. “I'm sorry, that was thoughtless. It's, you know, an automatic question.”
“My mom's a CPA, my dad does marketing,” Graham says with a smile and a shrug. “I wasn't born in a lab. I just can't really tell you anything else about them. My grandparents are in Santa Barbara, too, though. They're good people. Nana used to work at a bank, Poppy was a librarian at the UC. I still talk to them.”
“Well, we'll have to have dinner with them when you two come up to visit,” Donnie's mom says, smiling. She looks nervous for a moment. “I—we haven't really talked about what happened. In the building. I don’t want to bring up anything bad, but I wanted to meet you for a long time, because you–you saved my son's life. And I wanted t-to thank you for that. Especially knowing what you were also going through down there, it was so brave and selfless of you.”
A tear rolls down her cheek, and she wipes it away quickly. Donnie's dad wraps an arm around her shoulder and kisses her hair, but he's not looking at anyone directly, which means he’s trying to be cool.
Graham looks to Donnie and then to his parents. “I knew I wasn't going to live through that. But he could've. It was the right thing to do.”
“I can't say I would've done the same thing,” Donnie's dad says.
“You can't say that until you're in it,” Graham says, and Donnie moves his hand up Graham’s arm to settle on the back of his neck. “And I hope you're never in it. I like you two, you raised my favorite person. I would hope that nothing that terrible ever happens to you.”
Donnie's mom smiles and settles a hand on Graham's wrist where it's resting on the table. “We like you, too.”
Graham smiles. “Well, I'm on my best behavior.”
“So are we,” Donnie's dad says with a grin.
Something settles and loosens in Donnie's chest. He feels like he can breathe again. This could work. This could be one of the few times in his adult life where it doesn't feel like a nightmare having his parents interact with someone he's dating.
The rest of lunch goes well. Graham, who's never going to have any ounce of shame, explains his former life as a justice seeking cart cop. But he also explains what OCPD is and how he gets locked in on what's right and wrong. It's the only time that Donnie's parents get a little squirmy, because they're not good with psych stuff. He knows that they only reason they hired a specialist tutor for Donnie was that it looked bad to have a kid get held back for having reading issues. Donnie thinks he might be doing it on purpose, which is a little funny.
When Graham excuses himself to go to the bathroom, Donnie looks at them expectantly.
“He’s a little…odd,” his mom says carefully. “But we do like him.”
“Maybe law school will help him,” his dad adds. “Give him a place to direct all of that.”
Donnie nods, because that's about as good as that’s going to get. “Yeah. Thank you guys for being cool about this. About him. I really do love him.”
“The last few years made us realize we were being short-sighted on some things,” his mom admits. “I didn't want to get lumped in with my sister and that asshole she married.”
Aunt Cindy had gone full MAGA during lockdown, to the point where she'd yelled at Donnie's grandparents for getting vaccinated. They hate Aunt Cindy.
“He’s also very cute,” she adds.
“Yeah, he is,” Donnie agrees, ignoring the way his dad's eyes start moving around like he's wanting to escape the conversation. He'd been more than happy to comment on how attractive his ex-girlfriends were, he can stand to hear how cute his boyfriend is.
“Just be careful not to move things too fast. You remember what happened with your cousin,” his dad says.
Donnie rolls his eyes. “I'm not marrying someone three months after I met at them Burning Man, Dad. And she's still married.”
“For now.”
His mom smacks the back of her hand lightly against his arm. “Don't be a jerk.”
“All I'm saying—”
Donnie rolls his eyes and downs the rest of his ice tea.
—
They're at Donnie's place, his parents already heading back home. He pulls Graham onto his lap and presses the little bag with the glass sting ray inside to his chest.
At the aquarium, Graham had watched them swim with a contented expression on his face. He apparently likes how they move, and he thinks they look like pancakes. He holds the little figure in his hands with a soft, pleased smile.
“Thank you,” he says, twisting around to set it on the coffee table. “And thank you for intervening whenever your parents asked me things I didn't want to answer. And for everything.”
Donnie pulls him closer and hugs his arms around Graham’s waist. “They like you. Because you're likeable.”
He knows that Graham doesn't have a lot of friends. They're mostly people he knows online. He was a loner as a kid and has problems getting close to people because of his childhood, and Donnie wants to find his parents and drag them into a room and find out what the fuck their problem is that they caused so much damage to their own kid. He doesn't know everything, hasn't asked, won't ask, because Graham will tell him what he's okay with telling him. But Graham had been worried that he hadn't been through enough therapy to be in a healthy relationship, because he's always felt like he needs to control everything. He's scared to have children just in case he’s just like his parents, worried that he's not going to be a good lawyer if the stress makes his symptoms worse, and he's scared he'll run Donnie off.
“And you're thoughtful,” Graham says, pressing his fingertips to Donnie's chest, right over his heart. “And protective. And kind. And I'm glad I actually know you now.”
Donnie's heart swoops in his chest, and he looks into the shining brown eyes of someone he used to hate. He can’t imagine hating Graham anymore. “Me, too.”
Graham smiles and brushes their noses together. “You're still really annoying, though.”
Donnie grins. “So are you.”
He manhandles Graham onto his back and rubs his beard against Graham's neck. It's pretty soft thanks to all the stuff he uses in it, and Graham apparently likes the feeling of it. And Donnie likes imagining he's marking Graham as his when he does this. He sticks a hand under Graham's shirt and presses his hand to the biggest scar on his belly. There's a few little ones here and there from surgery, but the big one is the one that almost made Donnie lose him before he really found him.
Graham's arms wrap around his neck and shoulders, his fingertips brushing the top of the scar on Donnie’s shoulder.
“You want to get high and watch something?” Donnie asks against his collarbone.
“So much.”
They smoke on Donnie's balcony, their bodies pressed together on the shitty little outdoor loveseat that he'd found outside a house with a sign declaring that it was free to a good home. It creaks under them whenever they move, and they start placing bets on when it'll finally collapse under them. Donnie thinks around Valentine's Day, Graham's optimistically giving it until summer.
“My lease is up next summer,” Donnie says, tucking Graham's head under his.
“I like my place better,” Graham says before taking a hit from the little pipe.
Donnie presses his nose to Graham's curls and smiles. “Me, too.”
Graham exhales a cloud of smoke and passes the pipe to Donnie. “We're not keeping this. But I like the coffee table.”
They negotiate the blending of furniture that'll happen in about seven months, and Donnie will not budge on getting two desks. He knows that one will turn into a warzone. Graham thinks they can share, but Graham is high as giraffe tits.
“I'll do the laundry,” Graham says.
“You just wanna get your hands on my delicates,” Donnie teases, and Graham palms his balls with a giggle.
They end up watching Always Sunny and making out on the couch until they start dozing off. Graham pulls him up with increasingly dramatic noises that make Donnie laugh too hard to stand for a while. When he gets up, he fireman carries Graham to the bedroom, places him on the bed, crawls on top of him, and blows him until Graham's shivering and cumming down his throat.
“Mm,” Donnie hums contentedly, kissing his hip.
“You sound like you had good soup,” Graham mumbles.
“Mm, jizz soup.”
Graham groans and laughs and pushes at his shoulders and calls him gross and a caveman, and they tussle until Donnie lets Graham pin him and jerk him off while he kisses him and sucks on his neck and pets him wherever he can.
“So good,” Graham pants, like he's the one getting jerked off.
Donnie whines and grabs his hair so he can see Graham's face, and he arches up into his hand and cums all over his stomach. When he sinks back into the mattress, Graham lifts his hand to his mouth and licks it clean.
“Mm,” he hums pointedly, and Donnie cracks up.
—
It's Thanksgiving when Donnie meets Nana and Poppy. They're having lunch with them and then dinner with Donnie's parents. His parents had offered to host everyone, but Graham had given them some bullshit reason why that wasn't possible. When Donnie had pressed him on it, Graham had admitted his mom was coming over for dinner, along with his aunt and uncle and his cousins.
So he'd snuggled against his side and asked if he could still meet Graham’s grandparents before “she” showed up. Apparently, they were ecstatic to have them over.
He drives up to their house, which is only about a mile from where his parents live, and they get out of the car together. Graham waits on the curb to take Donnie's hand, and he leads them to the front door. His knuckles barely touch it before it's being yanked open by a guy who looks like a taller, older, grayer, less curly version of Graham.
“Happy Thanksgiving, kiddo,” he says, engulfing Graham in a hug. When he pulls back, he pats Graham's cheek and smiles fondly. “You look good. This the boyfriend?”
“Yeah, this is Donnie,” Graham says, sounding uncharacteristically shy.
“Nice to meet you, Donnie,” he says, shaking Donnie's hand firmly. “Call me Steve. Or Poppy.”
“Nice to meet you, too, sir.” Donnie gets hustled inside the house by a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for having us over.”
“Oh, Mimi just about cried when Graham called,” Steve says, squeezing his shoulder and walking into the kitchen.
They trail after him, and Donnie has about five seconds to register how good it smells and how much it reminds him of his grandma's old kitchen before there's a squeal of joy from the woman at the counter.
She wipes her hands on the dish towel and comes around to hug Graham, kissing his cheeks. “Hi, sweetheart!”
“Hi, Nana,” Graham says, smiling.
“And you must be Donnie,” she says, opening her arms. Donnie has to bend pretty far to hug her, but it's a great hug. “You call me Mimi or Nana, whichever you like. Oh, it's so good to meet you, honey.”
Donnie’s pretty sure he's never met someone so small but so loud, but it's a nice kind of loud. “It's good to meet you, too.”
They get drinks shoved into their hands and get their pick of appetizers, even though they're technically for the dinner guests.
“I don't have a problem saying this, especially without them around to hear, but Graham's our favorite,” Steve says, lifting the lid on a pot and stirring its contents. “So if we're short a few pigs in blankets, I don't really mind.”
“Steven,” Mimi admonishes.
“Am I wrong?”
She sighs and goes back to cutting celery. “No, but we don't say that in front of anyone. It makes us look like bad grandparents. Did you grow up here, sweetie?”
They ask Donnie a lot of questions about himself, and Graham seems embarrassed but pleased by the whole thing.
“Sorry,” he says softly as his grandparents check the turkey in the oven.
“It's okay,” Donnie replies just as softly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and kissing his temple. “I like them.”
There's a loud camera shutter noise, and Donnie freezes and looks up to see Steve with his phone out.
“It's a good picture,” Steve says, turning his phone around like they can see the screen clearly from twenty feet away. “I'll send it to you.”
Graham sinks in his chair a little. “Thanks, Poppy.”
“Well, you've never brought a boyfriend home before, so I have to do all of the embarrassing grandpa stuff,” he says, going to the cabinet to pull down bowls. “I’m an old man, don't take away one of the few joys I have left in this world.”
“You have plenty of joys, you jackass,” Mimi says, her voice muffled as she reaches into the oven and pulls out bread. “I'm one of them.”
“Of course you are, dear.”
Donnie smiles behind his hand and looks over at Graham, who's watching them with something like exasperated fondness. He wonders if Graham's wondering the same thing he is: will they be like this one day? Will they be that lucky?
They lose track of time, so all four of them are startled when the front door opens and someone shouts that they're here.
“Aunt Sue,” Graham mutters, sinking down a little.
“I wish they would knock,” Steve says under his breath before pushing himself back from the table.
“We should head to my parents’ place anyway,” Donnie says, standing up, too. “Thank you for lunch.”
“You'll have to come back soon,” Mimi says, squeezing his hands. Hers are small and bony and cold, and he barely resists the urge to rub them between his like he used to with his grandma. “It was so nice to meet you, honey.”
“You, too,” he says, genuinely meaning it. He bends to kiss her cheek, gets pulled into another hug, and then he moves to shake Steve's hand and also gets pulled into a hug.
“Dad? Mimi?” a man says from what sounds like the next room.
“In here,” Steve says, patting Donnie's back before letting him go.
Graham's hugging Mimi and nodding as she says something to him that Donnie can't hear. When she lets him go, her eyes are damp, and she cradles Graham's face in her hands before kissing his cheeks.
“Smells good in here—who’s this?” Graham's uncle says from the doorway.
Donnie turns and sees a man who looks lot like Steve if Steve had definitely started taking HGH, because the guy's got pro wrestler neck.
“Hey, Uncle Brian,” Graham says with a tight smile. “This is my boyfriend Donnie. We, uh, have to leave for his parents’ house.”
Uncle Brian is, as far as Donnie's heard, a manosphere asshole. He definitely looks like the kind of guy who has a freezer full of elk meat. So when his smile gets weird, Donnie isn't surprised, but he's ready to drag him out of the house by his freaky thick neck if he says anything to make Graham uncomfortable.
“Well, have a good dinner,” the woman half-hidden by Brian—presumably Aunt Sue—says.
“Yeah, you, too,” Donnie says, reaching back to grab Graham's hand.
He's prepared to go chest-to-chest with Graham's uncle if the guy doesn't move, but Brian steps into the kitchen and just makes it a little awkward to pass. There's two sullen teenagers milling around in the entryway on their phones, and they both look at Graham and Donnie like they're aliens.
“Let me walk you out,” Steve says, clapping a hand on Donnie's back and wrapping an arm around Graham's shoulders. When they're on the walkway outside, he sighs. “Please don't be strangers, boys.”
“We won't,” Graham says, hugging him again. “Bye, Poppy.”
“Bye, kid.” He rubs Graham's back before letting him go, and then he gives Donnie another hug. “Keep an eye on him for me.”
Donnie hugs him back. “Always do.”
Steve steps back and scratches his neck. “You know, I wish I could blame their mother, but there was the two of us. If it weren't for Mimi, I can't tell you what kind of prick I would've turned into. I just wish she had the same effect on my kids. At least I've got one good one.”
Graham bites back a smile. “Thanks, Poppy.”
“Happy Thanksgiving, kiddo. Kiddos.”
They respond in kind and get into the car. As they pull away, a car takes their spot and a small, unremarkable woman gets out. She looks at the back of their car until Donnie makes the turn onto the next street. Graham doesn't notice, he's too busy asking Donnie if he thinks they should stop and grab wine.
—
When Donnie got a camera for Christmas his senior year of undergrad, he wouldn't have expected to use it to make porn with his boyfriend so they could sell it to strangers on the internet. They started doing it not long after the idea had come up, and they're actually making a decent amount of money off what they're selling.
Graham’s been using his editing skills from when he had a YouTube channel to cut everything together. He'd also learned how to blur faces and slightly distort their voices. They still sounded like people, but Donnie could play a video to someone who knew them and they would think that they sounded similar but not identical.
There's not really a consistent upload schedule, and they don't film every time they have sex or even close to it. It’s a fun thing to do, and they don't treat it work, which had been their agreement.
It also lets them discover that they're super into showing off for people.
“Let everyone see how pretty you look,” Graham says from where he's stretched out on Donnie's bed with the camera in his hand.
Donnie flushes and pushes the door open the rest of the way, stepping in the reveal the ridiculous sexy Mrs. Claus outfit he's wearing. The fake fur at the bottom of the skirt tickles his thighs, and the top is way too tight across his chest.
“You don't even celebrate Christmas,” Donnie points out, tugging at the bottom of the skirt. He's wearing a red mesh jock underneath, and he feels like his dick is going to pop through it.
“I could if this is part of it,” Graham says with a grin, drawing his knee up and showing off his cock. “Turn around.”
Donnie turns slowly and looks over his shoulder as Graham checks out his ass. “What do you think?”
Graham licks his lips and reaches down to stroke himself once before tugging gently at his balls, his eyes flicking down the the viewfinder before they rest on Donnie again. “Bend over.”
He does as he's told, feeling the way the skirt pulls up halfway over his ass. “Like this?”
“Look at that,” Graham breathes. “I want to eat you out so bad.”
He shivers and reaches back to hold himself open for Graham and the camera, showing off where he wants Graham's tongue. “Here?”
“Fuck, get over here.”
Donnie bites back a smile and traces his finger over his rim. “You sure you don't wanna just look?”
Graham lets out a soft whine, and Donnie looks over his shoulder as he squirms on the bed. “Please—fuck—please, I wanna taste you so fucking bad.”
“Move down,” Donnie says, straightening up and turning to face him. He reaches for the camera, winks at the lens before he attaches it to the tripod. When he's done, Graham is laying on his back and watching him, and Donnie reaches under the skirt to squeeze himself through the mesh of the jock. “You're sure?”
“I'll bleep your name, but I swear to god, Donnie, if you don't sit on my face in the next five seconds, I'll start crying.”
Donnie laughs and kneels on either side of Graham's head, bunching the skirt in his hands. When he feels long, dextrous fingers hold him open and Graham's tongue swipes over his hole, Donnie swears and whines.
“God, fuck,” he gasps when Graham sucks on his rim. “‘M s’posed to fuck you, but I want your cock so bad.”
“I know,” Graham says, his voice almost comically muffled. “I know, you always do. My big, scary jock boyfriend can't get enough of my dick while he's wearing his pretty little skirts.”
Donnie moans and drags his lips along his own shoulder, reaching down to squeeze himself again through his jock. “Sh-shut up.”
Graham pushes spit into his hole and follows it with a finger. “Everyone already knows. You know what the comments say. All this muscle and a big dick, and all you want is to get your pussy filled up.”
Hearing Graham say the word ‘pussy’ is crazy, hearing him say it in this context when fingering and licking Donnie open makes his mouth flood with saliva.
“Are they wrong?” Graham asks, his tone gentle. He presses an almost chaste kiss to Donnie's hole before licking into it.
“No,” Donnie gasps, riding back on his tongue. “N-no, want your cock. Want it all the fucking time.”
“Mm, I'll post this with a warning. ‘Change of plans: Mrs. Claus will not be topping anyone today, she needed to ride my dick too bad,’” Graham teases.
“W-we’ll go again,” Donnie says, licking his lips as he reaches for Graham’s cock to stroke it loosely, more to feel it than anything else. “I’ll fuck you, I promise, I just need it.”
“I know, you’ll get it,” Graham soothes, rubbing three fingers across his hole. “You’ve been a good girl.”
Donnie squeezes his eyes shut and feels a shudder go through his whole body. “Y-yeah.”
A bottle gets pressed against his elbow, and Donnie grabs it, squeezing a generous amount of lube onto his hand. It starts slipping through his fingers, but he lets it get warm before he covers Graham’s cock with it. Then he carefully moves forward until he can pull his skirt up into his other fist and reach down to hold Graham’s cock steady as he sinks down on it, tipping his head back and gasping at the stretch.
“Oh, fuck, so good,” Donnie moans once Graham’s completely inside him. He loves the stretch of him so much, loves how Graham fills him and makes him feel like he’s supposed to take him, like he was made for him. He looks over his shoulder and sees that Graham has his phone out for a POV angle. “Can I move?”
Graham’s cock flexes inside him, and he bites his lip, grinding up into Donnie. “M-might not last that long. If I cum first, fuck me after?”
Donnie nods and starts fucking himself on Graham’s cock. When Graham sits up and reaches around to grop Donnie’s pecs under the dress, Donnie pants and rides him harder.
“So good,” Graham gasps, pinching his nipple and making Donnie’s cock leak in his jock. “How is it always so good?”
He covers Graham’s hand over the faux velvet material of his dress and encourages him to squeeze and pinch harder. “Made for you, baby.”
“Yeah. You’re all mine. All of you’s mine.” Graham’s other hand moves from Donnie’s hip to his cock, which has the pouch of the jock stretched so far that the sides are open. “Don’t cum, please.”
Donnie bites his lip and gives a jerky nod, not sure if he can make good on what he’s agreeing to. “O-okay.”
“Want you to fuck me, I've been so good this year,” Graham teases, nudging him forward a little until Donnie is bent forward and almost has his nose to the bed. Graham gets his knees under himself and fucks Donnie on all fours until he's pressing the head of his cock to Donnie's hole and pulsing over it, cum running down his taint and smearing over the bottom of the pouch. He fucks the head of his cock in a few more times, and Donnie tries to grind back on it, whining when it slips away.
Then he feels the blunt, rounded head of the curved plug they have, and Donnie shudders against his bicep as it sinks in and settles against his prostate. When he raises himself up on shaking arms, he rocks back into the feeling before straightening up and turning to face the diabolical little sex gremlin he's going spend the rest of his life with.
“C’mere,” he growls, yanking Graham into a kiss and lifting him up until Graham's legs go around his waist. Donnie rubs his fingers over Graham's hole and feels a little bit of slickness already, but he adds more just to be safe. Then he tugs his skirt up, pulls his jock to the side, and sinks Graham down on his cock. When Graham wiggles and gasps against his neck, Donnie kisses his ear and smiles. “Happy holidays, baby.”
Graham chokes out a laugh and holds on tight as Donnie fucks him without setting him down on the bed. He's flexing a little extra as he moves Graham on his cock, which Graham will notice later when he's editing and roll his eyes about it. The plug is pressing against his prostate and making him leak and grind a lot, which is making Graham let out these high little gasping noises. When Donnie kisses him, Graham whines and grinds against him. He's not hard again, but he always likes getting fucked after, apparently the overstimulation turns his brain off in a good way.
“Good?” Donnie asks, and Graham nods, his fingers slipping on the sweaty skin of Donnie's back. “Gonna lay you back a little.”
He carefully lays Graham back until his head and shoulders are on the bed, but he's still got an arm under his hips. So he gets to see Graham arched and flushed and stretched out, and Donnie scratches his nails through the hair on Graham's stomach to squeeze one of his pecs. When Graham swears and looks down where they're connected, he tips his head back again and digs his heels into Donnie's back and ass. Donnie slides his hand up to hook two fingers into Graham's mouth and grins when he sucks them eagerly and moans.
“Now who's the slut?” he teases.
Graham pulls Donnie's fingers out of his mouth. “Still you.”
“Excuse—”
He tugs pointedly at the top of Donnie’s dress. “You're the one in the dress.”
“You're the one sucking my fingers,” Donnie says with a hard thrust that makes Graham's eyes roll back a little.
“Y-you’re the one with a plug in his ass because he didn't want to be empty,” Graham points out, and Donnie feels his face prickle. “You'd be riding my dick right now if you could. You're a fucking slut.” He pulls the front of Donnie's dress until their faces are close together, and Graham smiles at him, sweet and pretty. “And I love you so much.”
Donnie whines and kisses him, swallowing his moans as he fucks Graham hard enough to force little bursts of air out of him. He really should be a lot cooler than this, but hearing Graham make fun of him and then tell him he loves him is like a cheat code for getting him close to the edge.
When he cums, it's with Graham's fingers in his mouth and the plug up against his prostate. He has to collapse on his stomach and arch his ass so Graham can pull it out, except the little sadist fucks him with it at first.
“Babe, c'mon,” Donnie moans against the bed, twitching. “Just take it out.”
Graham does and slaps his ass hard before he pulls Donnie's skirt back down. Then he flops next to him and nuzzles in for a kiss before rolling over to turn off the camera. While he takes care of that, Donnie wiggles out of the dress and spoons up behind him, naked skin against naked skin.
“Mm, love you,” he mumbles, burying his face in Graham’s curls. “Favorite Christmas present.”
“Me or the dress?”
Donnie smiles and holds Graham against him tighter. “You, dumbass.”
Graham turns his head so Donnie can kiss his cheek and then his lips. “You're my favorite, too.”
“Christmas present?” he asks, nosing under his jaw.
“Everything,” Graham replies softly, and Donnie squeezes him until he protests and starts pushing at him and calling him a caveman.
—
—
It's not an anniversary, a birthday, or a holiday. It's just a Saturday, and they're sitting on the beach late in the day because the weather's nice. Graham's half-asleep and has a hat over his face to keep the sun out, Donnie's staring at him like a creep and leans over to kiss his pec right over his heart.
“Hm,” Graham hums, tipping the hat up. “Time ‘s it?”
“Dinner time,” Donnie says, rubbing his cheek on Graham's chest hair and smiling when Graham scratches his nails over Donnie's scalp. “We should head out soon.”
“Mhm,” Graham agrees, kissing his forehead and then his lips when Donnie lifts his face. He smiles, lazy and easy and so beautiful. “Still want Indian?”
“Definitely, I could fuck up an entire platter of channa masala right now.” Donnie kisses him again as he pulls Graham's hat off all the way. “With a side of you.”
“That's so gross,” Graham protests, laughing.
“That's because your palate isn't, like, refined,” he says, adopting the ‘zen surfer bro’ voice that always makes Graham look at him like he's never been less attracted to him.
“Eugh.” Right on cue.
They get up, gathering their things, and they start walking up the beach toward the parking lot. On the way, Graham doubles back to pick something up off the ground and hand it to a woman, saying something Donnie can't hear because he's too busy texting his mom about a lunch they're supposed to have with Nana and Poppy the next weekend for some reason.
“Everything good?” he asks absently as Graham catches back up.
“Yeah,” Graham says. “Dropped her sunglasses.”
Donnie wraps his arm around Graham's shoulders and kisses his forehead, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Look at you with your good deed for the day. C'mon.”
“Oh, wait,” Graham says, setting his bag down and kneeling to poke through it.
“I think we got everything,” Donnie says, hooking his sunglasses in his tank top just in case he needs to help him search for whatever.
“No, it's not that,” Graham says, pulling something out of a side pocket and holding it up. It's a small wooden box that Donnie's never seen, and for a moment he thinks they accidentally scooped up something someone left behind when Graham pops it open to reveal a ring. “Will you marry me?”
Donnie feels like his heart is about to jump out of his chest and flop into the ocean like a dying fish. But in a good way. And then his eyes get hot and his nose burns, and he gasps in a breath as he nods, barely able to choke out an answer. He can't even see Graham by the time the ring gets slid onto his finger. Then Graham is surging to his feet and kissing him.
When Donnie hugs him, he buries his face in Graham's hair and sniffles. “Dude, what the fuck?”
Graham laughs and pulls back to cup his cheeks, his thumbs wiping Donnie’s tears. “I just wanted to marry you,” he says, shrugging. “So let's get married, okay?”
Donnie nods, his chin wobbling, and Graham kisses him again. When Donnie hugs him around his ribs, he lifts Graham off the sand and smiles a the small squeak his fiancé lets out.
He presses their foreheads together and grins. “We're gonna order in.”
Graham grins back. “I figured. I scheduled an order, like, an hour ago. It'll be there when we get back to my place.”
“Sorry,” a woman says, and Donnie looks over at her. She's holding out Graham's phone. “I got the pictures and a video. Congratulations!”
Donnie gapes at Graham as he pockets the phone. Then he smiles at the woman. “Thank you so much. Sorry, I need to do something really inappropriate right now.”
He hooks Graham's bag over his arm and hauls Graham over his shoulder, carrying him back to the car while he complains about how undignified it is to be carried around like a sack of flour.
“Shouldn't have asked me in public, sorry,” Donnie says, completely unrepentant, carefully dodging a guy on a bike. He sets Graham down by the car and unlocks it with a grin. Graham huffs and kisses him.
“Caveman,” Graham mutters against his lips.
“Twerp,” Donnie mutters back, pressing him against the side of the car and grinning when Graham pulls him closer.
judymarch15 Mon 29 Dec 2025 04:25AM UTC
Comment Actions
rmforever Mon 29 Dec 2025 04:31AM UTC
Comment Actions
saibowtie (camydi) Wed 31 Dec 2025 02:34AM UTC
Comment Actions
Atlas_M_33 Wed 31 Dec 2025 06:13PM UTC
Comment Actions
LuckyBishop Fri 02 Jan 2026 03:21AM UTC
Comment Actions
toastandjammies Mon 05 Jan 2026 01:15PM UTC
Comment Actions