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Buck spots him first and then it's impossible to look away. The figure is captivating… and yet the sight of him is utterly familiar. "Hmmm.."
Sal pockets his last shot before straightening up where he's bent over the pool table to see what's caught his boyfriends attention. Lifts a brow as he glances over and, sure enough, he can immediately spot whats captivated Buck.
"Well damn." Sal mutters.
The sight is a man. Hunched over the bar, entire demeanor full of tension and every time he looks up and lets his gaze land on a man, Sal watches him immediately force himself to look away. Watches him takes a drink while white knuckling the glass so hard he's surprised it doesn't shatter.
"Isn't that...?" Buck nudges Sal with his elbow. Leaning into the other firefighters space to murmur low enough that his words are almost lost under the thrum of the jukebox. Buck trails off, not finishing his question.
But Sal doesn't need too.
Because nine times out of ten Sal can follow his train of thought without question. And right now is no different. He knows what Buck wants.
And usually it ends up being what Sal wants too.
Sal's gaze liners at the end of the bar where Buck's had been stuck bouncing back and forth from for the last ten minutes or so. Where, of all people, Tommy Kinard sits hunched, shoulders broad and tight beneath his stupidly attractive black Henley.
Tommy.
Fucking.
Kinard.
“Yeah.” Sal lets his eyes sweep along the bar before lingering on his old friend. Assessing. Calculating. Wondering. “It is.”
“Wonder what he’s doing here.” Buck shifts as he licks his lips. Tongue pink and Sal lets himself get distracted by the tantalizing flash of it for a moment, before he looks back at Tommy.
"No idea."
Because Sal doesn't. Not here. Not in this seedy queer friendly joint that was full of dark corners for people to vanish into with whomever they wanted. Nothing like the good, clean, normal places Tommy used to demand they frequent back in the day.
“Should we go talk to him?” Buck says, eyes imploring at Sal.
Sal hums and rolls the idea around his head, his gaze dragging over Tommy carefully. Finally he shakes his head and sets aside his pool cue. Reaches for his beer and tips back the bottle at the same time he runs a hand up Bucks spine. "Not yet."
Buck shifts beside him, restless energy bleeding through his fingertips where they tap against his thigh. Turns his blue eyes on his boyfriend. "But Salll, come on, he looks like he's thirty seconds away from a panic attack."
“Give him a sec,” Sal hides his small smirk into his beer bottle and presses his palm harder against the small of Bucks back to pull him closer. Pointedly doesn’t look at Buck because he knows those blue pouty eyes would break him down.
But he’s so fucking curious.
The infamous Tommy Kinard in a place like this?
Sal wants to watch just a bit longer. Wants to see what possible things Tommy could be here for and Sal lets his sharp mind start planning all of the outcomes. Drugs. Booze. Fuck… sex?
It's been years since Sal's seen him last. Yet despite that, Tommy doesn't look much different. Older for sure, and there's gray to his hair that wasn't there before, but it's the kind of silver-gray that simmers in the dim bar lighting. That touch of age that's a like a siren call to surrounding patrons.
The anxious curve to his spine isn't new though, just… Sal can see it's bigger than it was before.
And speaking of big…
Sal let's his eyes trail over the once familiar curve of Tommy's shoulders. He's bulked up considerably, healthy curves where once sharp jutting cheekbones where; ones as cutting as his wit and snark. Shoulders rounded and strong, straining against fabric and the invisible immeasurable weight they always seemed to carry around on them. Wonders if it's gotten heavier in the past few years. Because by the way he's sitting, Sal wonders if Tommy's finally been brought to heel by the load.
Brought to a crossroads of being buried under the weight for the rest of his life, or maybe shaking it off and trudging forwards.
And Gods, Sal wants to see which one it is.
—
Tommy tips back the last swallow of his whiskey, grimaces at the burn and slides the empty glass towards the edge of the bar. The bartender catches his eye and Tommy has to force the words from his lips. He may be somewhere he never thought he was going to be, but at the very least, he can order a fucking drink he actually wants... even if the thought of talking to the effeminate man makes him want to claw his own tongue out.
“You got anything local? Pale, double-hopped, maybe citrus-forward?”
The bartender's lip twitches in amusement but nods. Turns to grabs a dark bottle with a colourful label from the cooler and Tommy darts his eyes away from his mini shirt.
"Here you go, honey."
Tommy has to swallow back the way of nausea that rolls up at the endearment, but nods his thanks and cuts his gaze away quickly. It doesn't take long before his eyes start to betraying him again. Cutting across the bar to the kind of men he has told himself for years to not notice. Except every time his gaze catches on one, heat pricks the back of his neck, and Tommy forces himself to look away.
He's not going to panic, Tommy keeps telling himself. He can do this. He blew up his entire life for this. Left his fiancee, changed his job…everything. So he could be his true self and stop hiding.
So why can't he look at a man without having a goddamn panic attack damn it.
Trauma, his therapists voice says in his head and Tommy downs half his beer in one go.
—
"He looks like he's going to crawl out of his skin." Buck notes, setting their pool cues back on the rack and nudging Sal again. "You should do something."
Sal makes that low noise that usually means he wants to rile Buck up and keeps watching his old friend and partner skitter his eyes across the crowd. It's almost amusing at this point. "I should, should I?"
Buck tucks a few fingers in the Captains pocket and tugs him towards the bar, abandoning their pool table. "We should. Besides… you never mentioned how fucking drop dead gorgeous he was."
"Yea, well," Sal huffs a quiet laugh but his gaze doesn't leave Tommy as he leans in, lips brushing Buck's ear. "Figured the pictures on my walls did enough talking."
Buck grins, shameless, and tugs at his pocket again, edging them ever closer to the bar. “They really fucking didn’t do him justice,” he says as his eyes rake over Tommy. His tongue darts across his lips, purposely sticking it out farther to rile Sal up. "That cleft alone...those shoulders."
Sal's gaze darkens as his eyes follow that wicked tongue. He wants to snap at Buck to put it back in his mouth or put it to better use, but Sal just can't bring himself to be so deterrent in the light of the burning curiosity and hunger that's brimming over into his own fingertips. Tommy's always cut an impressive figure, Sal's never failed to note that. The cleft Buck's focused on has featured in more than one of Sal's late night fantasies back in the day. Those cheek bones and lips, wrapped around and jutting out around Sal's cock.
So he lets Buck tug him in close and that old banked want Sal always harboured for Tommy starts to rear its head out of the box Sal jammed in into years ago.
Well damn.
"Alright, you want to go say hello baby? Lets go say hello."
"Yeah, I think I do." Buck agrees, voice dropping as he unhooks his thumb from Sal's pocket about face back towards Tommy. Only he stops short, a little frown marring his excitement when they see someone else approach their target.
"What the fuck-" Buck curses indignantly, completely affronted at having someone else approach what he's already laid claim to in his mind. Someone Sal's okayed for him to want and Sal has to chuckle when the newcomer approaches Tommy and starts some seriously drunk flirting.
Buck watches as the guy’s hand ghosts Tommy’s forearm as he talks, leaning close enough that Tommy has to shift back to avoid him, and even from here Buck can see Tommy's fingers curling tighter around his bottle. Whatever the guy says earns him a flat look and a twitch of Tommy’s eyebrow and—
"Oh…" Buck can’t help it, he laughs. Delighted. "Oh, he's bitchy!"
Sal snorts. "Oh you have no idea. You think I'm bad... ain't got nothing on the Kinard snark."
Buck grin sharpens, all teeth and hunger, as he breaks away from Sal to thread his way through the press of bodies towards the bar. There's a bounce in his step now— restless energy turning into hunger— and Buck can feel the weight of Sal's gaze on his back, hot and amused as his boyfriend lingers behind. But Buck doesn't look away from Tommy. From the tense line of his shoulders, the way his fingers drum against his beer bottle, from the tick of his jaw.
Up close he's so much more that the shadow of Sal's pictures… and Buck swallows down the flicker of nerves before he steels himself. Slides in besides Tommy, pressing firmly against the pilots side like he was always meant to be there.
"You look like you could use a rescue,” Buck says, aiming his words right at Tommy without giving the other guy so much as a glance.
Tommy jolts in surprise, and it's only years of highly honed reflexes that keep him from throwing the beer bottle in his hands. Or gods forbid, whipping around and dropping the man suddenly touching him so proprietarily out of nowhere. But the mans hand is strong and weirdly familiar, his voice confident over the inane chatter and terribly disturbing noises of the drunk guy who all but accosted him in the middle of his silent freak out.
Tommy turns his head up to the newcomer and instead of telling whoever it is to fuck off, his mouth instantly dries and his heart does something in his chest he's sure a cardiologist would take his license away for. The prickle of heat he was trying not to panic about earlier, blooms on the back of his neck, only this time the heat is tenfold.
The kid is fucking gorgeous.
Buck grins when Tommy's eyes hit his. Bright and cautious.
But then next to them the drunk curses, spittle and words flying and Tommy jerks back away from him. Away from them both.
In no short order Buck whips around to the other man and orders him to fuck off. All the meanwhile he curls an arm protectively around Tommy's shoulders. Tries to pretense he doesn't notice Tommy's shoulders lock even tighter at how close he is all of a sudden. It's a familiar tension and as the guy finally takes the hint and leaves, Buck shifts to leans an elbow against the bar instead. Moves away from Tommy's side, giving the man some space but still keeping them close enough that their sleeves brush.
It's a calculated move, careful in way Buck rarely bothers with anymore.
"Relax, you're alright." Buck instructs, "No ones going to bother you anymore. They aren't looking at us."
No, Tommy thinks wildly as panic slowly overtakes his common sense. Everyone is looking at us. Looking at him. At them.
At this tall brick shit-brick house of a kid leaning over him and taking up all of Tommy's vision. All his attention. And they can all tell that Tommy likes it.
He… He can't…
Tommy opens his mouth to speak but his words catch in his throat when the kids cologne hits him like a wind burst. It's a a dizzying mix of amber and sandalwood and— and something else. Something so familiar to him despite the fact that Tommy hasn't smelled in years. Not since a someone he knew left the 118.
"I-" Tommy's voice cracks as he tries to respond, moves to lean back. To gain some distance despite how badly he suddenly wants the exact opposite.
Buck catches the stumble, the panic creeping into Tommy's voice, and he makes himself ease back. As much as he usually enjoys toying with his food, Something about this man is making Buck want to be gentler. His grin turns into something a little softer, and Buck shifts his posture to be a little more unassuming. A little less big and threatening. The way he used to carry himself before the Seals taught him to stand up straight. Buck tips his head to the side and speaks softly, for Tommy's ears only.
"Hey," Buck murmurs, "Deep breath, big guy. In and out." He demonstrates, slow, like he's talking someone into jumping out a plane. Smiles wide and pleased when Tommy starts to copy him. "Good, and one more...nice."
Tommy's not sure he even means to fall in line with the kid, but the instructions are clear and concise. Easy to follow in their simplicity. And honestly Tommy's followed far worse orders in his life.
Breath by breath, step by step, the panic starts to rear back and Tommy's so caught up in the tall blond stranger that's talking him down that he barely notices when it recedes entirely.
With a little bit more time Tommy finds his heart calming and he forces himself to loosens his grip on his beer bottle. Lets go of it entirely when the ache in them hits him and Tommy wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. Fingertips tingling as blood rushes back to them, and the rough texture of his pants grounds him even further.
"Uh, Th-thanks for the help." Tommy manages as he ducks his head, shame at his own panic—at thinking he could do this— bubbling up just as fast as the panic did.
The kid grins, stupid and bright. He looks like sunshine, Tommy thinks in amazement. Like he wasn't nearly spiraling apart in the middle of crowded gay bar because he was looking at another man.
"Don't mention it," Buck says easily, sliding into the spot the jackass vacated so he can lean against the bar in front of Tommy. Rethinking all his usual tactics he and Sal normally use when they find a plaything. Tommy isn't like the others, Buck realizes. “I’m Evan Buckley, but you can call me..."
Buck pauses, breath hitching as Tommy's cologne hits him mid-sentence, something rich and unexpected, tinged with diesel and fear sweat. His nostrils flare, pupils going wide as his brain slows. Buck barely recovers, fixing his ridiculous, disarming grin, "Buck. Or Evan, or... whatever you want, really."
His voice dips at the end without meaning too, with an invitation he doesn't give to just anyone.
Sal watches from a few feet away, lips pursed in amusement around his nearly empty bottle of beer. It's not often he gets to see his cocky fucker of a boyfriend blue screen and lose his cool in front of someone. Buck's a pro at flirting; at keeping calm under even the hottest stare--and Sal takes great pleasure in breaking that facade. In tearing it apart with hand, tongue and teeth until Evan is just a withering mess under him. So to see him fall victim to the classic beauty of the ineffable Tommy Kinard is an incredible sight in and of itself.
Tommy hasn't noticed him yet, and Sal's starting to suspect that Buck's forgotten about him from where he's gotten trapped in Tommy's orbit. And he almost doesn't want to interrupt. Not just yet. Wants to hear Tommy's snarky response that he hasn't in so long. Wants to see Buck lose his entire mind under Tommy's sharp wit.
Fuck.
He wants to see them kiss so badly Sal's bones ache with it.
Sal cocks his head as he watches them stare at each other. Inches forward and waves to the bartender behind Tommy's back. Alcohol was always hit or miss with Tommy back in the day, but Sal bets what little tastes he had, haven't changed.
Wonders if maybe those tastes have changed though. If that's why Tommy's here alone. And not just as a wing man.He watches Tommy tip back his IPA and take a deep drink, follows the bob of Tommy's throat and licks his lips. When Tommy sets it back down there's the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips, something sharp and restrained but wholly alive.
And Buck sees it too.
"You always come on this strong, or am I just lucky?" Tommy asks, voice edged with a dry bite that hits Buck straight in the chest and goes below the belt, causing him to shift where he stands.
Buck blinks, before the wild, restless energy that had been eating him alive all week, rushes back to the forefront. His gaze drops to Tommy's cleft, to his jaw line, "Depends..." he says slow, "You always look like you're about to deck a guy when they try and flirt with you? Or am I just lucky that you aren't swingin' at me?"
Tommy summons up all the courage he uses to fly into forest fires and hurricanes and plasters on a smirk that feels brittle but hopes can pass muster. So the guy is flirting with him then… but it doesn't give him the creeps like the other guy did.
"No... I only hit if asked." As soon as Tommy says it, he cringes on the inside. So cool Kinard, he thinks to himself. But damn if the kid—if Evan— doesn't look like he could take a hit and keep on coming at him. Looks like he could pin Tommy down and give him everything he's ever wanted.
Buck's grin sharpens, goes wicked at the sarcasm, blue eyes catching the light. He licks his lips, like he can already taste the spilled blood. His pulse hums in his ears. "Noted," he murmurs, like he's tasting the promise in Tommy's words. "I'll keep that in mind."
Buck dares to inch a bit closer, barely a hairsbreadth away when it comes down to it but it doesn't make Tommy flinch away so he counts it as a win. It's like he's being mesmerized by the man in front of him. Sal's pictures of Tommy did not do him justice and Buck's blood burns with the urge to touch him now. Sal should have warned him—
Sal.
Blue eyes tear away from the temptation in front of him, flying to the side to glance at where Sal's standing, watching them, hunger bright in his own gaze. It wouldn't be the first time Sal's deigned to share Buck with someone and the thought of Sal sharing him with this man—with Tommy— makes arousal blare like wildfire inside of Buck.
Sal arches a brow back at him, slow and deliberate and still silent, like he's daring Buck to make the first move. His eyes slide to Tommy who's still captivated by Evan before him and takes in the flush on Tommy's cheeks, his white-knuckle grip on his beer bottle, and the smirk brittle on his face. Sal's mouth curves into something hungry but he doesn't interrupt. He let's Buck play for now as he stays out of sight.
Buck's breath hitches, heat curling low in gut at the look in his boyfriends eyes even as his own dart back to Tommy. He swallows hard. Licks his lips, needy and downright greedy for more. His brain is frizzling and Buck's fingers drum against the bar; restless, before curling tight like he’s holding himself back from reaching.
From touching.
From taking.
A look that Tommy seems to be wearing too when Buck's gaze flicks to Tommy’s mouth, lingering, before snapping back up to his eyes. Buck bites his lip, “You know, i couldn't help but come over. You looked a little, well, anxious… but maybe I was wrong? Cause now you look like you wanna do something… reckless."
Tommy swallows thickly. Does he?
"Go on then… be brave enough to do it.”
Tommy doesn’t know how to be brave. He knows how to want. He’s good at that. But being brave? Taking? He licks his lips and shifts in his bar stool. Can he be reckless with himself for once?
It’s like his body decides for him. Whatever Evan is, whatever it is about this man that waltzed right up to Tommy, like he could read him inside and out, has cleared away most of the upper thoughts from his brain. And Tommy finds himself helplessly leaning forward, drawn in by the one and only Evan Buckley.
Yet the feel of eyes on him gives Tommy pause. People are watching him.
Watching them.
It feels like a physical touch on the back of his head and for as captivating as Evan is, Tommy can’t help but need to look. Has to see the people staring at him in disgust—even if this is supposed to be a safe space— in reverence— because while this may be a safe space for everyone else, may it isn't' for him— Tommy has to see.
See that everything his father ever said about him is right and that people would be looking at him with horror in this queer bar…
Tommy starts to tilt his head in the direction he feels the weighted gaze coming from. Frowns when he sees what he thinks is a familiar shoulder, but then a large warm hand is hooking under his chin and tilting his face back towards Evan.
Helplessly, Tommy lets himself be directed with startling ease, doesn't fight the blonde man and Tommy's breath catches in his throat.
Then Evan is kissing him.
And Tommy’s mind shuts down completely.
Buck captures his lips, like there was never going to be any other outcome. The kiss isn’t soft, not at first, it’s hungry, born from his restless energy and weeks of need.
Tommy makes a startled sound against his mouth, and Buck swallows it down, tasting whiskey and craft beer.
When Buck finally eases back, breath hot between, his grin is a beautiful, broken thing. “See?” he murmurs, thumb twitching like he wants to touch but doesn’t dare not yet. “Brave looks good on you.”
Tommy is stunned silent. Brain going like an over torqued engine that finally gave up the ghost. sputtering and His lips feel raw even though the kiss wasn’t that long and he licks his lips without thought, tasting Evan on them.
It cracks something open inside of him. Something hungry. And Tommy lunges forward again.
The bar noise dulls around them, replaced by the rush of blood in Buck’s ears and the sharp, clean hit of Tommy’s cologne, smoke and spice and something wild beneath it. Tommy kisses like a man starved, and Buck can’t do anything but meet him there, chasing the taste of whiskey on his tongue, losing himself to the weight of it.
Buck kissing Tommy like he’s been dying for it, Tommy letting him open up under Buck’s mouth like a fault line breaking wide and Sal waits for the jealousy to come.
It doesn’t.
Instead something tight in his chest unwinds with a shudder he hides behind a slow swallow of air. This should feel like betrayal, Evan never kisses anyone, that was one of their unspoken rules, the thing that kept the edges clean when they played with others.
But standing here, watching Buck’s restless energy pour into Tommy, Sal doesn’t feel slighted. He feels starved.
Evan kisses like a hurricane and Tommy feels swept away by him.
Sal never thought he’d ever see Tommy look like this. His fingers twitch at his side, beer bottle gone slack in his grip.
Tommy pressed forward even more, helpless as Evan plunders his way into his space and his soul. Feels stripped bare and restless and wanting. He can feel the power and strength in Evan’s muscles as he finally reaches out to touch him.
That’s what breaks Sal. Not the kiss. Not the sweat clinging to his skin as he watches his boyfriend and his—
He steps forward.
Tommy doesn’t notice Sal moving but Buck does. He feels Sal before he sees him, feels the familiar edge threading through the chaos sparking under his skin.
It only spurs him on, makes his blood run hotter as he pulls back just far enough to drag his thumb across Tommy’s jaw.
Sals presence prickles at the back of Bucks neck but he can’t help how gentle his touch on Tommy goes. Tommy’s stubble rough against his thumb, even as Buck drags the scarred skin that was once his thumb print down to rest in the divet of Tommy’s clef.
“Be brave a bit longer yeah?” Buc whisper laughs, voice grabbed with arousal and want.
Fingers thread into dirty blond curls and Sal pulls. Possessive and wanting and Buck lets his head fall back on a barely bitten back moan as the little pin pricks of pain spark along his skin like lightening.
“Awful daring there Pup.”
Buck huffs out a breathless laugh, head tipped back, blue eyes hazy when they flick up to meet his. “Yeah,” he rasps, grin curling into something wicked and greedy, and the pain does nothing to soothe the need and ache clawing at him.
Tommy freezes.
The breath that Evan stole with his kiss is nowhere to be found, but the disbelief and the panic rears its ugly bead the moment he heard the familiar dulcet tone of the one and only Sal-fucking-Deluca.
Of all the pieces of his past to find him tonight…. Tommy never expected this.
His entire body shudders at the sound of Sals voice. It was always strong. Strong in a way Tommy never was. In a way that not just demanded respect but earned it. Kept it. Respect Tommy still has for him.
Tommy can feel the way his chest heaves under Evan’s warm palm that he hasn’t moved. Not when Sal reached out and grabbed him. Not when—
He feels like his brain skips a beat and Tommy trails his wide eyes across Evan’s face, down the slope of Sals arm and then to Sal himself.
It’s been years since Tommy last saw him… but he looks just as good as the day he almost threw hands with Nash.
Sal can see it, the way Tommy’s chest shudders under Buck’s palm, the wide-eyed disbelief as his gaze drags across them both. It hits Sal low in his gut, a jolt of memory and want tangled together.
Buck though Buck’s eating it up. His lips are kiss-swollen, his grin too bright, and he doesn’t move his hand from Tommy’s chest, doesn’t give him the space to retreat. Instead he leans into Sal’s touch like the greedy pup he is… “Guess there’s no need for introductions, huh?”
“No.” Sal bites out, eyeing the pale expanse of Bucks bared neck. He bites back the urge to bite it. “There’s not.”
Sal lifts a brow as he turns to look at Tommy before them. He can see why Bucks gone ass over teakettle for him. It’s been four years. But it’s like Tommy’s transformed into a different person. He’s lost that sharpness to his jawline, filled out and let his hair grow.
Sal wants to eat him up until there’s nothing left. “Tommy.”
Tommy’s name fills the space between them, thick with recognition and something darker that twists low in Buck’s gut.
He feels Tommy stiffen under his palm, like the sound alone could knock the air out of him, but those wide blue eyes stay fixed on Sal.
“Sal,” Tommy manages, the name itself scrapes on the way out. His grip on the bottle tightens again. His throat bobs, and Buck swears he can see the war playing out across his face panic and want colliding so hard it looks like it might tear him in two.
Buck shifts breaking Sal’s hold, he taps Tommy’s chest, coaxing his gaze back for a heartbeat. “Breathe, big guy,” he murmurs, before flicking his eyes up to Sal with that reckless heated look. “Think he remembers you, babe.”
Sal can’t help the eye roll at his boyfriends words. But it seems to break a little of the tension between the two ex-118 men. Sal nods at Tommy and lets the hunger out in his gaze. “Relax Kinard, you look like you’re gonna bolt right over this bar.”
To his credit, Sal also lets Buck go. Let’s him lean in closer to Tommy who seems to unfurl form sheer panic to mild panic.
“It’s okay, Tommy,” Buck whispers, trailing his hand up Tommy’s thick chest to the side of his neck. He worries for a moment that it’s too vulnerable a spot to touch. That it may make Tommy bolt.
But like an iceberg scraping across the hull of the Titanic, Tommy slowly looks away from Sal and back to Buck.
“You…you two?”
Buck’s grin softens, something almost tender lacing through his cockiness. His thumb brushes the curve of Tommy’s neck and he leans in just enough that the words are meant only for him. “Yeah,” he murmurs, sure in a way that leaves no room for shame. “Me and Sal. But right now?” His gaze flicks over Tommy’s flushed face, the tremor in chest, and Buck’s smile goes sly again. “I’m lookin’ at you.”
Heres looking at you kid
The quote filters through Tommy’s mind as fast as the words leave Evan’s lips and Tommy can’t help the shiver that races down his spine. Evan’s so close, body warm, vibrant and alive and he’s so glad he’s still sitting. Thinks if he was standing Tommy would be on the sticky floor of this bar before he could breathe.
It’s Evan Tommy feels but he catches Sals eyes like he did all those times across call scenes. Silent communication born of fire and ash and trust.
The same thing they say now.
You don’t have to explain yourself to me.
yes I do. I lied to you
none of it matters. What matters is this
what is this
Sal grins shark like and open. Offer on his face and lips. “Yeah. Us. But we got room for one more. Care to join us?”
Buck feels it before he even processes the words, something in Sal's tone, the way his grin isn't just sharp and indulgent, but open. It's different. Not the usual thrill of letting Buck burn off restless energy with a stranger before pulling him home. This feel bigger. Wider. Permanent in a way that makes Buck's pulse hammer in his ears.
He licks his lips, breathless, for once Buck doesn't feel like he's chasing, he feel like he's standing right in the center of something taking shape around him, like he's the eye of a hurricane that's pulling both men into his orbit. And for all his recklessness, Buck doesn't want to run from it.
His gaze jump back and forth between Sal and Tommy.
Tommy darts his eyes back and forth between the two men before him. The words 'I'm not' almost slip past his lips at the open offer.
But he is.
Tommy came out tonight with the explicit intent of finding a man.
Now he’s being offered two.
Two and then some. He knows Sal never makes empty offers, empty promises, and the eager hope in Evan’s eyes is like a bulldozer to the walls Tommy’s had erected for years. They’re wooden planks in the force that is the night of Evan Buckley and Sal Deluca.
He’s answering before he can truly think about it. What it’ll mean for him. How this liaison will affect the rest of his life. But Tommy knows Sal never suffered a fool in his life and right now Tommy needs that.
Be brave, Evan asked of him. And Tommy’s known him for all of ten minutes and kissed him exactly once, and he already wants to follow that direction for the rest of his life…
Shit, Tommy thinks he should be afraid of what he might do if only Evan asked him.
Buck see the push and pull of fear and want play out across Tommy's face. His chest tightens almost painfully, this is no longer recklessness need, it's want, deep and consuming and utter want.
He doesn't move his hand away from Tommy's neck, can't bare to break the contact, so he pulls him in instead until his lips ghost Tommy's ear. "Don't overthink it," Buck whispers, pulling back until blue eyes, both burning hot, meet each other. "If you want it… go ahead and take it."
Buck lets go, breaks back just enough that his boyfriend can slip in closer.
And slip in Sal does.
Never one to hesitate ,Sal steps into the scant space Bucks given him and curls his fingers around Tommy’s jaw, directing him up and into the kiss Sal's been waiting years to give him.
It’s everything Sal thought it would be and more. Tommy’s cologne fills his nose, warm and familiar, masculine yet beautiful, and Sal knows how half the power in the scent belongs to Tommy himself. How it can enchant a person. Knows why Buck broke his charming exterior to its power. He sinks into it as he licks into Tommy’s mouth, searching. Hungry.
And Tommy can’t hold back the sharp wounded sound he makes at it. He feels thrown past the eye of the hurricane now, back into its clutches. Whipped around by the sheer joy of kissing Sal. Elation fills his chest and Tommy tries to press forward, almost sliding out of his chair as he finally lets go of the bar and his empty beer bottle. Let’s go of Evan, even if it feels wrong. But Evan stays close as he tries to match Sal's movements.
The hungry rumble Buck lets out is the only other sound he can hear past the roar of his heartbeat in his ears
When Sal finally drags himself back, breaking the kiss with a sharp breath, Buck is already there, crowding close. His lips are swollen, pupils blown and his grin this time is wrecked and desperate, practically vibrating.
"Fuck," the word slips out in a quiet grunt. Buck's gaze flicks between them, Sal's mouth wet, Tommy dazed and flushed. He feels the rule book they've always kept between them crumble to dust.
Because normally, this is where Sal steers him towards the backroom, a quick fix, rarely do they ever take someone home, maybe to a hotel, a time or two. but Buck thinks this isn't going to be like any other hook up.
“Maybe we should get out of here,” Buck says, chest heaving. "Take this home." The words are simple, but they carry weight, heavy with everything unsaid. He’s breaking their unspoken rule, knows it, but he doesn’t care.
He has a feeling and it should probably scare him. but it doesn't, and when he meets his boyfriends eyes, it's clear that it doesn't scare Sal either.
“Hmm, let’s.” Sal rumbles, eyes not leaving Tommy’s. Transfixed by the cloud of want in them. He reaches out to Buck and tugs his boyfriend closer with a grin, knowing they’ve won when Tommy turns towards him, body open. “I’ll settle us up. Why don’t you take Tommy to the truck.”
It’s phrased as a question but it’s not and with every last shred of strength inside of him, Sal pulls back to go settle both of their tabs.
The distance feels enormous but the possibility looming before him keeps him moving. Anything to get them home faster. Anything to burn their rules to ash as fast as they can. Needs to see Buck and Tommy together so badly.
Buck jumps into the space his boyfriends left and pulls Tommy to his feet, nerves thrumming with excitement. “Come home with us Tommy.”
Tommy stares at him like he's misheard him, like the words can't possibly mean what they do. But then, Buck's hand is warm in his and Tommy realizes he's already standing.
"Come home with us," Buck repeats, more like a promise than an invitation this time. His blue eyes are electric, lit from the inside out, and Tommy will swear to his dying days he can feel the force of it hum right behind his rib cage.
He should say no. He knows he should say no. But then Tommy catches Sal's smirk in the bar mirror, hungry and open, and fucking daring him. His throat bobbles.
"Okay."
Buck grins, then tugs on his hand as he practically manhandles him out of the bar, towards the truck.
Tommy’s back hits cold metal as Evan pins him to a nondescript silver truck. He hisses but it just lets Evan bully his way further into his mouth as he holds Tommy in place. Strength unwavering as he steps in close and Tommy’s moan rattles deep in his chest. Evan is a strong line of heat and muscle keeping him upright as they kiss.
He tries to move his hands, to hold back, to pull Evan all the closer as he devours him in return— it’s the best damn kiss Tommy thinks he’s ever had. This one. And the last. And the one before that— but Evan's hold stays true and fire lances through Tommy at being pinned down. No one’s ever held him down before. No one’s ever convinced him to stop running. No one has ever had the strength to make Tommy take what he wants.
But then Evan’s hold breaks, his blunt fingers reaching Tommy’s Henley where it’s tucked into his jeans and Evan wastes no time ripping it out so he can get his hands on skin.
Tommy breaks away with a ragged sound t the touch, lungs heaving, desperate for air. Willing his brain to stop swimming so he can get his own body to cooperate.
The loud beep of the car alarm has them both yelling and breaking apart.
Buck breaks apart and his glare cuts across the parking lot, “asshole,” he snarks towards Sal. Anger soothing away panic that claws at his spine.
“Pup,” Buck freezes Sal cuts through the haze sharp enough to still him. He swallows hard, his jaw working as his shoulders drop, the wildness simmering just enough to keep him from snapping back. His gaze cuts from Sal’s to Tommy’s chest rising, his lips had been on his pulse point.
Sal cut to Buck first and then down to where Tommy’s Henley hangs loose, undone by Buick’s restless hands. “Deep breath baby,” Sal commands and reassure all at once. “Both of you.”
Buck inhales like the words bypass his brain, his shoulders loosening. Tommy mirrors him, shaky but obedient, pulling air into lungs that still feel too tight.
Sal’s mouth curves with a flicker of approval before his hand trails along Buck’s jaw, checking him. “Good,” he murmurs.
He turns his gaze to Tommy. “You good, Kinard?”
Tommy nods his voice is rough when the words finally spill out. “Yeah. Yeah, I…” He cuts himself off.
Sal’s brow lifts, measuring him before he steps back just enough to give them space. “Then get in the truck.”
It take a moment for either of them to comply, but Sal lets them take it. Holds the back door to the cab open when his boys straighten themselves out and Sal grins at how kiss stung Buck's lips are. admires the flush to Tommy's cheeks. He pats Buck's ass as his boyfriend climbs in and smirks at the bratty glare Buck sends him over his shoulder.
Sal nods at Tommy next, Tommy who's standing ramrod straight next to him looking like he's going to fly apart any second. The captain reaches out and claps Tommy on the shoulder, dragging the pilot to him for a moment, a hug reminiscent of the ones they used to share in passing, only this one has more promise behind it.
Tommy shudders in his grasp and Sal squeezes the back of the pilots neck when Tommy clings to his jacket. they part softly and Tommy doesn't blink as he turns around to climb in after Buck.
"Good boy." Sal mutters. shutting the door to climb into the drivers seat.
Inside the truck the air feels warmer, thick with adrenaline, heat and silence none of them know quite how to break. Buck's sprawled in the middle of the back seat like he owns it, legs spread, one arm draped lazily along the seat behind Tommy's shoulder. He's still buzzing, the electric hum under his skin makes him ache, his knee bounces.
Tommy sits stiffly, from his peripheral he watches Buck, his hands braced on his thighs like he needs something to hold him together.
Sal slides behind the wheel without a word, starts the engine, and lets the low rumble fill the space. His gaze cuts to the rear view mirror just long enough to catch them Buck is still jittery, Tommy unraveling and there’s a satisfied hum in his chest as he shifts into gear. "Seat belts," he grunts.
Buck's quick to comply, a smirk blooming as he leans into Tommy to click his buckle for him, his knuckles brushing his stomach on purpose. Tommy exhales, shaky, his eyes darting. "Safety first."
Safety, Tommy thinks wildly; brain wavering between going a mile a minute and shutting down completely every time Evan presses against his side. It’s like every touch Evan makes on him unravels a little bit more and a little bit more of Tommy’s self control. Sal's eyes from the front seat are familiar-like they’re back in the firetruck when he was acting captain- but now it’s laced with a heat Tommy thinks he might suffocate in.
Evan’s hand lands on his thigh and Tommy can’t help the way he jumps. “Shh, it’s okay. Just wanna touch you.”
“Y-yeah…” Tommy stutters. The touch feels like a brand. High on his leg and seemingly climbing with every turn Sal makes as he takes them home. Nerves and anxiety war with want inside of him and when they hit a particularly large pot whole, the truck jars and—
Tommy’s hand lands on Evan’s and the younger man grins, flipping his hand to lace his fingers through Tommy’s, grin going hungry and shit-eatingly pleased.
Tommy doesn't dare look at him, can feel that grin burning again the side of his face like a sun he shouldn't stare into. Buck thumb is already tracing patterns over the back of his hand, and it makes his breath hitch.
Sal catches the movement in the rear view, Buck's greedy fingers tangled with Tommy's steady ones, the low hum in his chest burns into something molten. At the stoplight, he watches as Buck twist... he almost chuckles at how impatient the kid is.
And Buck can't. He sat in the back for a reason. Stayed in the middle despite the lack of leg room so he wouldn't be too far from Tommy.
Tommy's palm is warm and rough in his own and Buck can't wait to have it all over him. He turns as much as he can in his seat, the seatbelt restricting his movements-but not as well as Sal's ropes can- but it's enough to slide further into the pilots space.
To tilt his head and duck it until he can press a kiss to the curve of Tommy's shoulder. trailing it up and up until he can nose at the rapid thrum of Tommy's pulse in his neck. Tommy's cologne fills his nose and it's just as intoxicating as earlier. Maybe even more so with the prick of musk and sweat suffusing it.
Buck groans loudly, doesn't care if it'll distract Sal. He needs. "Fuckin'... Hell, Tommy."
His other hand flies up and curls around Tommy's jaw, tugging him down until their lips crush together.
Tommy makes a low, wounded sound into Buck's mouth, muffled, his body follows Buck's pull and the sudden crush of lips. He doesn't mean to - doesn't mean to lean in, doesn't mean to chase the taste of sugar, heat and youth.
For a moment his brain just clears, white-noise blank, and he follows and follows, and slowly it reboots, and Buck smells like french fries, sandalwood, fresh aloe, but underneath it, there's the dizzying scent of smoke and sweat clinging faintly to his skin, all man. It short-circuits something.
His hand comes up, cupping the back of Bucks neck, fingers threading into the short hair and drags him closer.
The hungry sound he makes surprises him, rough, pulled from somewhere buried and aching.
Buck growls at the sound Tommy makes. Feels it rattle in his bones and settle in his gut like an unending hunger. Tommy’s hand encompasses almost the entirety of the back of his head and Buck Bites at Tommy's lower lip until he can licks his way into his mouth.
He lifts a leg and settles it over Tommy’s leg, half trying to get closer and half trying to crawl into Tommy’s lap. Buck pants heatedly, blood fizzing with arousal and need to get the big beast of a man under him sooner rather than later. Needs Tommy whimpering and begging-screaming-under him as Buck pounds into him over and over, filling all the empty recesses of the other man with all consuming pleasure. Needs Tommy sprawled out and fucked stupid and crying as Buck wrings out every single ounce of him because he can.
Because Sal will let him.
Sal wants him too.
The restless energy he’s felt grow inside of him boils over and Bucks found the perfect outlet for it. Tommy. Sal. TommyandSal.
Buck cock aches, and his bones feel too big for his skin, and Buck could stay like this, fused and hungry, trembling against Tommy's mouth for hours. Forever.
But the truck shifts hard, a sharp jolt as Sal changes lands and Buck jerks against his seatbelt, breath ripping from his lungs.
He leans back just enough to breathe, chest heaving, gaze dragging over Tommy’s dazed expression, glassy-eyed and flushed in the dim light. Buck grins breathless, and his other hand crawls higher without thinking, sliding slow up the seam of Tommy’s jeans.
And now he knows exactly why Sal had hit the car alarm earlier in the parking lot. Because Buck had been seconds... seconds away from dropping to his knees and getting himself arrested for public indecency.
Or worse.
He exhales hard, tips his head back against the seat, stares at the roof like he can burn through it. His pulse is a live wire, snapping too fast in his veins, skin hot and crawling like he’s outgrown it. He feels fucked up with it, this want, this hunger, this buzzing in his bones that won’t ever quiet.
And God, Sal knows.
Sal’s always known how to handle it, though. Sal gets him, grounds him when he spins out, gives him edges to push against and hands to hold onto when he needs them most.
And maybe that’s why tonight feels different.
Because Sal hasn’t said a word.
Tommy pants heavily, breath hot and face burning, both with the flush of arousal but also from the rasp of the five o'clock shadow on Evan's face. It's so novel and terrifying and Tommy never wants it to stop. And neither does his dick if the way it's straining against his jeans is any indication. Like now that he's broken through the barrier of those first few kisses with a man...
Or well, now that's Evan's broken through the barrier. Came out swinging like a wrecking ball of every single fantasy Tommy's never let himself have.
In the front seat Sal is suspiciously quiet, and Tommy doesn't recognize the neighbourhood he's driving them through out the window, barely pays it any mind if truth be told. not when he can stare at the sprawl of Evan next to him.
"He's usually better behaved." Sal's laugh breaks the tension in the backseat and both boys jump.
"Shut up." Buck bites, squirming in his seat and fighting the urge to look at Tommy. Knows if he does the last of his wherewithal will break and he'll be in the pilots lap, seat belts be damned. "Can't you drive faster Sal?"
"Keep sassing me like that pup and you know what happens." The words aren't directed at Tommy but he shivers anyways. straightens up and keeps his hands to himself.
"See. Tommy knows how to behave. He knows how to be good. you want to fuck him, you better be too."
Tommy throat bobs, works around a swallow he can't quite get down, Sal's words loop through his brain as his chest tightens.
You want to fuck him, you better be too.
The words weren’t aimed at him, but they hit all the same, carving straight through the haze of heat rolling in his head. It sparks something under his skin he doesn’t have a name for, something knotted up with want and terror, something that leaves his pulse stuttering.
The air thick with sweat and cologne and Evan’s heat pressed up alongside him. Every nerve ending screams contradiction, stop, go, run, stay, want. It’s too much and nowhere near enough.
He shouldn’t be here. God, he shouldn’t be here. Not tonight, not like this.
It’s his first night out. The first night he’s stepped into a space like that club and said this is who I am without choking on the words. He told himself he was ready, told himself he wanted this.
Tommy shifts in his seat, hands tightens around Evan's. Evan’s thigh presses closer, warm and solid, and the scent of him catches again, sandalwood and salt, smoke and sweat, like a summer storms over hot asphalt.
It unravels him all over again.
He wants. God, he wants so badly he aches with it. Wants Evan’s mouth, Evan’s hands, wants to see if the restless energy burning under that skin tastes as wild as it feels. And he wants… fuck, he wants Sal, too, has always craved Sal's attention, friendship, every piece that man ever gave him willingly.
But panic spikes just as hot, twisting under his ribs until it’s hard to breathe. Because this is real, not some fantasy shoved deep into the dark where no one can see it. This is happening.
Buck's hand shifts, sliding over the straining line of Tommy's cock. The weight of it steals what little breath Tommy has left.
The arousal is as sharp as the panic. As all consuming and Tommy’s hips move before he can stop them. He’s not even sure he’s breathing then, Evan’s hand on his is searing hot pressure and it’s the best thing Tommy’s felt in ages.
It’s almost too good. Doesn’t know if he can trust something that feels so good. So right.
Evan bares down and his soft moan feels like a flashover in Tommy’s veins. Like touching Tommy is what he’s craving so bad.
The truck jerks and Sal hisses from the front seat as he finally breaks and throws the truck in park.
The rapid movement makes Evan’s hand clamp down on his cock and Tommy’s hips trust into his grip, helpless and wanting. Evan whimpers and does it on purpose this time. “Sal…please, lemme touch him ohmygod.”
The parking lot is empty, he’s parked them in the far corner, away from the street, away from the streetlight.
Sal doesn’t answer right away. He kills the ignition and turns in his seat. His gaze pins them both where they sit. “Pup,” Sal sighs, voice low and dark, the tone that always does shit to Buck’s brain. “You really wanna do this here?”
Evan swallows, restless, nails biting into the denim stretched tight under his palm. “I wanna touch him,” he whines on the edge of pleading. “I wanna make him feel good, babe, please.”
Tommy can’t even move, breath caught somewhere high in his chest, because Sal’s looking at him now.
“You wanna touch him, baby?” Sal all but coos, his gaze drinking them both in. “You think he wants it?”
Evan nods, quick and desperate. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Yeah, he does.”
“Ask him,” Sal instructs. “Not me. Him.”
Evan swallows, turns, his hand easing just enough to give Tommy air, and leans close, blue eyes burning. “Tommy,” his breath is all wanting. “Can I?”
Tommy exhales shakily, heart hammering, panic and hunger fighting for space in his chest. His voice comes rough, but steady enough. “Yeah,” he whispers, “fuck.. yeah.”
“Yessss.” Buck hisses and moves like he’s been trained too. All military efficiency and lightening fast and Tommy barely registers the click when Buck undoes his seatbelt because suddenly his lap is full. Suddenly Evan is as close as close can be and all the panic and frustration falls away. Replaced by sandalwood and smoke and other things Tommy’s too caught up to register when Evan descends on him.
Tommy's moan bounces around the cab of the truck. Evan is everywhere. Thighs in either side of his legs where Tommy is still strapped in, hands firm like brands on his face as Evan invades his mouth, hungry little sounds escaping him as he tries to devour Tommy where he sits.
And Tommy is helpless to do anything but kiss back. His own hands fly up Bucks back, searching and clinging and holding as Bucks hips grind down, their trapped cocks rubbing together in the most delicious way. Tommy digs his fingertips in on either side of Evan’s spine and tries to haul him closer.
“Eager boy.” Sal's voice murmurs from the front seat. Hungry and haughty. “Baby boy you know where you’re supposed to be.”
Evan hisses and whines without ever taking his tongue from Tommy’s mouth. If anything he delves deeper and grinds harder into the hard hot line of Tommy’s cock under him. Wants it in his mouth. Wants it inside of him. Wants to see it hard and leaking in his hand as Tommy’s speared open on his dick.
Evan finally pulls away, breathless, “Ah-ah! Tommy…. Tommy want you in my mouth. Want your cock."
Tommy’s whole body jerks at the words. It’s instinct, pure and unfiltered, and fuck if it doesn’t make his vision blur for a second. His throat works uselessly around air he can’t pull in fast enough, lungs stuttering against the tidal wave of heat that crashes over him.
Evan’s lashes clumped together, spit shining on his kiss-bruised lips as he pants against Tommy’s jaw, desperate and so fucking sure of what he wants. His hands are everywhere, tugging at Tommy’s shirt, braced against his chest like he’s holding him down and pulling him closer.
And Tommy…. he can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t be anything but want.
“Easy, Pup,” he warns, voice velvet-drenched steel, the kind of tone that reaches deep and tugs at Buck’s spine. “You don’t get shit without permission.”
The words hit Tommy making his skin prickle with adrenaline and the dizzying weight of Evan surrounding him.
Sal’s gaze catches his, pinning Tommy where he sits like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “That what you want, Kinard?” His voice is husky, knowing. “You want him on his knees for you?”
Tommy forces himself to nod. “Yeah,” he rasps, voice breaking under the word. Evan lets out a sound somewhere between a groan and a gasp, forehead pressing to Tommy’s, and his hips roll once, helpless, like he can’t stop himself from grinding against him.
Tommy’s seatbelt unclicks and there’s a sharp clank as the metal hits the window as Buck flings it out of his way. With a twist of his wrist, he’s yanking down Tommy’s zipper.
“Tell him Tommy, where you want his mouth.” Fucking Deluca smirks at him, all teeth, eyes bright, eager for the words.
Words Tommy’s not sure he can give Sal. Not past the anxiety in his bones and the pleasure in his veins. Evan is an all encompassing force on top of him and Tommy doesn’t know if he can speak the words. It’s everything he’s ever wanted. Man and mouth, heat and the scrape of masculinity that’s just so much more to him than a woman’s touch could ever manage.
But gods he fucking wants.
He wants Evan’s mouth on his.
He wants Evan’s mouth in his cock. Wants Sal's mouth on his too. While Evan—
The image is almost too much and it breaks something inside Tommy. Like an old dog rolling over dead. He’s beyond temptation. He just needs.
“N-need you…” a Tommy stutters as Evan grinds down into him again and it’s just so much Tommy feels like he’s dying. “P-please, Ev, Evan. Please—“
Tommy whines, high and tight, catches Sal's gaze over Bucks shoulder where the younger man is sucking a livid mark to life on his collarbone. Sal's eyes burn like copper fire, bright blue and endless.
Starving.
And Tommy knows what he needs to do. Those eyes have never led him wrong yet and he trusts them now. Even in this. If anyone can overcome Tommy's anxiety, it’s Sal.
“Fuck,” Tommy whispered vehemently. Cursed. “Evan, want your mouth; please!”
And in a way a man of his size and stature shouldn’t be able too, Evan flings himself back and sinks into the well by Tommy’s feet, hands on his thighs and curling up into the minuscule space between Tommy’s thighs
Buck’s hands work fast, all deft and sure, and before Tommy can blink as the stiff denim is undone. The sound of the zipper is loud in the small cab, louder than his own rough breathing, louder than the pulse pounding in his ears.
Buck frees him, and Tommy goes blank.
His cock is thick and heavy in Buck’s hand, rougher, stronger than anything he’s ever known. Bigger knuckles, calluses that scrape where they drag over the sensitive skin.
There's no fumbling here. Buck knows what he's doing. "It's gonna be good, I promise," Buck swears, like it's a secret. He squeezes, his thumb rubbing over the silt.
His tongue darts out and Tommy can only stare as Buck leans in and rolls his tongue over the head before swallowing him whole, making a noise that pulls a groan from Sal.
White noise fills Tommy's brain then. There's nothing past the whitewash of pleasure that's the hotwarmwet of Evan's mouth and Tommy can't hold back the scream that bursts from his lungs at the feeling. It echoes around the cab and trembles in his own ears. an echoing sign of his own weakness and human need.
His hips fly up off the seat but Evan's hand dart out and pin Tommy back into place with ease. like it's nothing. Like Tommy can't bench press 200lb on a bad day. Evan holds him still, making him take the way his mouth fits around Tommy's hard cock. swallowing it down and down and down until Tommy's gasping for breath around the tight ring of Evan's throat.
Tommy sobs, breathless pleas falling from his lips in a way he can't control. but it only spurs Evan on, the younger man sinking down until he can bury his nose in the sweat damp curls at the base of Tommy's cock. And Tommy slams a fist into the seat next to him, still warm from where Buck had sprawled in it not moments ago. his hand finds the seatbelt and Tommy wraps his fist around it so he can hold the fuck on--
but he can't.
Evan's mouth is perfect around him and Tommy's been wound for sound for far too long, minutes, hours... decades. "Evan! S-Shit! I'm--!"
Tommy's warning cracks like static. The words barely leaves his throat before Evan hums around him, deep, and it shatters what little non-control Tommy has left.
Heat floods him, white behind his eyes, his whole body jerking as pleasure rips through him. The sound that tears out of him, is strangled, half-sob, half-moan, helpless. He trembles where Evan's hold him down, unyielding, forcing him to stay, to feel it all.
Sal groans from the front seat, he sound thick, like gravel. "Good boy," he rasps. It punches straight through Tommy's haze, settles right in his bones.
The words should embarrass him, should make his chest lock up with shame, but instead, they unravel him further. He can't pull his eyes away from Buck.
Buck wonders if he's died and gone to whatever the hell heaven is. Tommy's taste coats his tongue and Evan swallows it down without hesitation. whines and dips forward, chasing the last vestiges of Tommy's pleasure on his taste buds, unwilling to let go. Wants Tommy hard on his tongue again and again, mindless with pleasure as his tongue rubs unforgiving against the vein on the underside.
Tommy twitches, a broken sound tearing from his throat that has Buck whining against him, drunk on it.
“Greedy boys,” Sal tuts from the front seat. “Didn’t say you could make him come, Pup.”
Buck pulls back just enough to gasp air, forehead resting against Tommy’s thigh, spit-shined and flushed and trembling with the force of wanting. “I…” His voice laced with pleading. “Couldn’t… fuck, Sal, couldn’t help it.”
“Yeah, I know,” Sal murmurs. “But you’re not gonna touch him again ‘til we get home.”
Buck’s fingers curl tight into Tommy’s thighs, knuckles white, frustration coiled tight under his skin. Leaving pretty red marks as he lets go. “Sal…” he openly whines, hips shifting like he can’t stay still.
“Seatbelt,” Sal orders, absolute authority wrapping around the word.
It's an order and nothing short of it; And Buck curses as he slowly unfurls himself from the safety of Tommy's thighs. forces himself back onto the bench seat and makes himself slide over onto the far side of the cab.
Tommy's sprawled, limbs weak and face flushed from his orgasm and Buck can fucking taste him on his tongue-he wants more, wants it all. he watches as Buck obeys Sal's words and tucks himself against the opposite door. clinging to the seat belt like a lifeline as Tommy's brain fails to come back online. "Evan..."
Sal laughs from the front seat and only turns around after he stares at Buck, Buck who has to close his eyes and scramble for the seatbelt. clicking it into place once more before he holds onto it for dear life. his cock is hard, wet and leaking into his own chino's—thanks whatever deity is listening that this wasn't one of the instances that Sal put a plug in him before they went out— he needs Tommy so badly that the toy would forever be ruined for him.
Buck grits his teeth, holding himself back from launching across the bench seat as his boyfriend watches with that dark amusement Buck wishes he didn't wear so well. Sal knows how to press him, knows every button Buck has before he can even sew it into his fabric...
Tommy is one such button.
It's like Sal has been preparing for him long since before Buck was ever a prospect in his eyes.
Buck whines. clings to the seatbelt and keeps his hands to himself even if his entire body wants to demand otherwise. "Drive... Sal... Baby. please. please just get us home.. wanna fuck him so bad."
“Patience, Pup,” Sal grunts, pulling out of the parking lot. “You’ll get him. But you’re gonna wait.”
Buck’s head tips back against the window, jaw clenched, blue eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll help keep him still. “Can’t,” His fingers clutching the seatbelt strap. “Sal, fuck, I can’t…”
“You can.” Sal cuts him off without looking back. “You will.”
Buck’s swallows hard, throat tight. “Fuck,” he mutters, half to himself, half to Sal, “you’re killing me.”
Sal smirks, catching Buck’s reflection in the rear view before shifting his gaze to Tommy, sprawled, flushed, wrecked. “Not yet,” Sal murmurs promising, “but soon.”
Buck groans, dragging a hand down his face, frustration burning under his skin. “Drive faster, please.”
Sal chuckles darkly, shifting the truck into gear. “Oh, now you’re polite.”
A laugh pulls from Tommy chest.
And laugh might be generous. The sound that echos from Tommy's chest is desperate and unhinged. But Sal pays it no mind as he continues driving.
Buck stays on the other side of the bench seat and a chill starts up Tommy's spine unbidden. Sits there like an unwelcome guest as Sal twists and turns his way through streets and cornets. as Evan keeps from touching him. the pleasure sits cold and dank in Tommy's gut.
"Sal." Buck demands, ice blue eyes never leaving Tommy, and the pilot shivers at the sound of his old friends name. Said in a way he never would have dared.
Buck finally shifts forward, “Sal,” he sighs again, whiny, then his pout twist into something bratty, a look that reminds Sal his boy wasn’t a Boy Scout but a SEAL. “You didn’t say he couldn’t touch me?” He offers his hand to Tommy. Blue eyes locked on blue.
Tommy stares at the hand and he hates the way his fingers twitch before his brain can catch up.
Tommy’s pulse spikes as his gaze flickers between Sal’s reflection, in the rear view, and Buck’s hand offered like temptation itself.
“Go on, Kinard,” Sal encourages, the sound curling dark around Tommy’s name. “Touch him.”
Tommy hesitates for half a heartbeat then his hand slips into Buck’s, rough palm against restless fingers, and Buck exhales like he’s been starved for air.
It takes every ounce of self control for Buck not to give in to the desire to yank Tommy forward. Tommy’s hand is clammy in his and Buck feels the tremble in them as they hold him back. It’s everything Buck wants right now. Everything he needs.
He curls his fingers into Tommy's and shifts in his seat, drops the bratty attitude he gave Sal for a moment as he looks at Tommy. “You okay?”
Tommy scoffs wetly under his breath, eyes bright in the dim light of passing street lamps as he stares Buck up and down. “N-No? Yes? Fuck I don’t know..” licks his lips unconsciously when his gaze lands on the wet patch that’s impossible to miss in Bucks lap. “Yes.”
Buck bites his lip and cocks his hips up, letting Tommy see the mess Bucks made of himself. Asks breathlessly, the whiny brat sliding back into his tone. “Yeah… yeah Tommy, you wanna touch?”
Tommy swallows thickly, eyes darting to the back of Sal's head before coming back to Evan. “Please Tommy,” Buck pleads.
“Sal. Fucking tell him he can. Fuck, I’m dying here.”
“Tommy,” Sal says with more warning than gentle, “you need to understand something about Evan before you decide.”
Tommy blinks, caught between Evan’s pleading and Sal’s tone. “I…” he starts, but his voice cracks, rough, unsteady. “What?”
Sal’s gaze cuts to him at the stoplight, blue eyes catching in the rear view. “He runs hot,” Sal explains letting Tommy in on something private. “Always has. And when he gets going…” his voice dips lower, velvet threaded with steel, “he doesn’t always know when to stop.”
Buck’s head snaps up, wild-eyed and breathless, shame flushing his skin hot enough to burn. “Sal,” he grits out, sharp and pleading all at once, but Sal doesn’t look at him.
He keeps his eyes on Tommy. “I’m telling you this,” he continues, “because if you give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. Not because he means to. Just because…” Sal pauses, searching Tommy’s expression for understanding, “…he’s spent too long without.”
Too long without.
He looks at Evan, really looks… past the bratty pout and the shameless grind of his hips, past the way he hides his hunger behind cocky smiles. Sees the restless twitch in his thigh, the white-knuckled hold on the seatbelt, the heat under his skin he can’t seem to burn off.
And suddenly Tommy gets it.
This isn’t just want. Isn’t Buck being greedy because he can. It’s need, carved deep, old and starved and endless, thrumming through his veins in ways Tommy doesn’t have the language for yet.
Buck feels him looking and flinches, curling his shoulders in, his blue eyes wet. For the first time all night, his gaze won’t land on Tommy… bracing, expecting rejection.
Tommy moves before he even decides to, two fingers hooking under Evan’s chin, tilting his face up. His own chest trembles as he leans in and presses his mouth to Buck’s.
Something in Sal’s chest breaks open when he sees Tommy lean forward. His own breath stutters with a relief so strong as he sits through the green light to watch Buck in the rear view mirror.
It was a gamble.
Exposing his boyfriend like that, to someone Buck doesn’t know. Doesn’t trust.
But Sal knows him. Knows Tommy. Birds of a feather and all that. If anyone would understand that deep seated need, it would be Tommy. The man who lived a lie to avoid being who he is. Everyone rejected Buck, but Tommy? He rejected himself.
Sal doesn’t like to share Buck’s soft underbelly with people. That was his hard won victory and he’s a protective, possessive shit by nature. Evan is his. Yet so was Tommy once upon a time. And he knows his boys. He trusts Evan. HE trusts Tommy.
More importantly he’s pretty sure he trusts them with each other.
Buck gasps against the soft press of Tommy’s lips. Unexpected. Elated.
He’s shaking. Or Tommy is. Maybe they both are. Maybe it’s the rumble of the truck as Sal finally moves them back on the path towards home. His shoulders unfurl a little; careful, testing, even as his eyes slip closed. Savouring the gentle touch when his entire body feels like it’s on fire.
Tommy pulls away, fingers still on Buck’s chin, but doesn’t go far. Just enough space to brush a thumb over Buck’s cheek and whisper against swollen red lips, “Me too.”
He means to say more, to crack himself open here in the back of his old teammates truck. Would do it if it would get that look off of Evan’s face, he’d tear apart his own insides in the first brave act he’s ever done; like 'look, see how broken and useless I am, I know how that loneliness feels'. But Tommy doesn’t get the chance. Buck’s hands both shoot out to haul him back. Their teeth clack and Tommy grunts, words and confession lost to the desperate way Buck is clinging to him. Kissing him.
Buck’s head spins when Tommy kisses him back, not soft this time, not tentative, but there and Buck can’t hold back the sound that rips from his throat. He fists his hands in Tommy’s shirt, greedy, pulling him closer, wanting more, wanting everything.
There's only one person who's ever felt this good… Sal.
"Pup," Sal murmurs… pulling Buck back from the brink.
Buck jerks back just enough to breathe, gasping, his forehead pressed to Tommy’s, their mouths still brushing. His chest heaves as he drags air into his lungs, and he forces his grip to loosen, forces himself to stay in his seat.
Tommy’s thumb brushes along his jaw.
“I can’t,” Buck rasps, breath hitching on the confession, blinking away the wetness stinging his lashes., “I don't want to stop.”
Sal nods, “Then you don’t stop.” Buck’s head snaps up, catching Sal’s gaze in the mirror. “But you listen to me,” Sal continues, voice sinking into command.
Buck nods, fast, too fast, like his body answers before his mouth does. “Yeah,” he breathes.
Sal hums in approval, the sound steadies Buck’s wild heartbeat. “Good,” he murmurs, eyes cutting to Tommy next. “Because he’s gonna need you gentle.” He reminds him as he turns on their road. "At least for now."
At least for now. Sals words bounce around in Bucks skull. Ricocheting off his need and desire. He nods shakily at Sal, Strung tight and rung out from holding himself back. But it doesn’t make Sal any less right. This is Tommy. Tommy’s first is that anything Bucks gleamed from earlier is correct.
With great heaving gulps, Buck turns back to Tommy and tilts his face into the pilot's grasp as the car rolls to a stop in a familiar driveway.
“I can do that,” Buck says. “For you, I can do that.”
Tommy shudders and Buck traces the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. “Ok. Okay, thank you Evan.”
Later though, Buck tells himself as he undoes his seatbelt and twitches from not immediately climbing in Tommy’s lap despite how fucking badly he wants too. Later he can take all of Tommy. Can swallow him whole the way he wants too. He licks his lips, and the lingering taste of Tommy there feels like a one-two gut punch. Strokes the fire in his belly and Buck groans, scrambling to grab Tommy and drag him from the truck.
Buck stumbles out of the truck like his body’s moving faster than his brain, keyed up and he barely registers the slam of the door behind him before his hand’s on Tommy’s wrist. He doesn’t mean to tug, doesn’t mean to yank him forward, but he needs him close right now, in his space, in his skin.
Tommy comes easily only stopping when Buck’s chest brushes his. Their hands find each other, fingers slotting and Buck clings like he’ll float off without it.
Sal shuts the driver’s door, locking the truck with a press of his key fob. “Inside,” he swats Buck's ass as he passes them. Buck forces himself to match his pace, even as his legs want to sprint, want to shove Tommy against the nearest wall and take.
Later, he reminds himself. Sal’s voice reverberates in his head: gentle.
But it’s hard. So fucking hard when Tommy looks at him like that. When his palm, warm and heavy, squeezes Buck’s hand back like he means it, like this is okay, like Buck is okay.
The door clicks shut behind Tommy and he freezes just past the threshold.
Sal’s house smells like him. Wood polish and worn leather, clean cotton and the faint aroma dinner still clinging to the hair.
And it’s worse somehow, stepping inside. Because here, inside these walls, there’s nowhere to hide from it. From them. From himself. From everything he wants.
Buck turns when Tommy pauses, the hold he has on the other mans hands draws him up short and he has to stop walking least he drag Tommy too far. Buck steps closer to Tommy, because now that he's seen it already he can pinpoint the moment the other man starts to panic. He raises his hands to cup Tommy’s face, only giving him a moment to pull away before he leans in to kiss him. Presses in closer and closer until their chests brush and Buck does his best to be be gentle but he needs so badly. He keeps the kiss short, just a gentle, tentative press of their lips together. Breathing Tommy in as Sal hums in approval behind him.
The sound curls up like a warm cat behind his rib cage and, Eyes closed, Buck pulls back a little, taking a moment to live in the closeness.
"Good boy Buck," Sal coos as he kicks off his boots and strips off his jacket. "Lose the shoes Kinard, then let Buck shut that big damn brain of yours off. you want that?"
Tommy chokes on his own want. Of course he wants. But the claws of anxiety are dug in deep, and not even the pretty blush on Evan's cheeks can untangle them so quickly.
Buck tilts his head, watching him, chewing on his bottom lip like he’s trying to puzzle Tommy out. There’s no judgment, no rush, a quiet focus Buck slips into when he’s choosing his next action.
Then he moves, dropping to his knees right there on the hardwood.
Tommy blinks, “Evan…”
Buck doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look up. He just reaches out and works on the laces of Tommy’s work boot. He tugs one loose, sets it carefully aside, then works on the second.
It shouldn’t undo Tommy the way it does, shouldn’t twist the air out of his lungs to have someone like Evan kneeling in front of him.
Buck glances up through his lashes as he peels the second boot off, resting his hand on Tommy’s shin like he’s checking if this is okay… if he’s okay.
Buck pushes smoothly back to his feet, toeing his own sneakers off without looking, kicking them aside. Sal’s earlier words echo, let Buck shut that big damn brain off and Tommy wonders if maybe Evan’s already halfway there.
Sal moves without a word brushing his palm lightly across the middle of Tommy’s back, the touch that Tommy knows says breathe. His eyes for half a second follow Sal as he crouches and organizes Buck’s discarded sneakers.
But then Buck stretches and groans, Tommy forgets to look anywhere else.
Evan’s fingers hook into the hem of his hoodie. In one sharp tug, he peels the hoodie over his head and drops it to the floor. The undershirt rides up, giving Tommy a flash, lean abs, dusted chest hair, pale scars cutting across warm skin, black ink curling over ribs and snaking down his arm before disappearing under the cotton again. Gone too fast but burned into memory.
Tommy was never brave enough for a tattoo. One of the many things he was too afraid of in his life. Not the pain, but the permeance. The indelible knowledge that he had been marked. He never had the courage to change, despite his fathers wishes, despite Tommy's wishes, he stayed as he was made. Broken. Sensitive. Attracted to men.
But right now Buck feels like a tattoo on his life. Like a mark that can't be ignored has been left on him that will change him forever; and when he thinks back on it, Sal had been just like that too.
A port in a storm. Somewhere to land when the army chewed him up and spit him back out.
Life altering.
Tommy reaches out to touch, fingers trembling in a way unbecoming of a pilot and touches Buck's undershirt. it's warm. as warm as the rest of him, and worn with use. Everything around them pauses, the hallway still as the three of them breathe in tandem. each on teetering on the edge of something—
Something that could make, or break them.
Tommy moves. For once in his life, he's brave. He's fucking terrified but he moves anyways. He curls his fingers into Buck's undershirt and pulls.
Buck whines as they crash together, all the heat they lost in the car, all the promise they found at the bar. The moment Tommy's lips hit his, it all comes flooding back. Buck wants to fall into it, wants to give into base instincts and arousal, but Sal's voice echoes in his mind, the way it always does these days. gentle.
Buck can do that. Buck can do that for Tommy.
They kiss and kiss and lose themselves in it, until Sal's voice cuts through the haze surrounding them, worn tight with want and fire and so much desire it makes both Tommy and Buck's heads spin.
"Upstairs. Now."
Buck doesn't wait.
The second Sal's command hits, he's moving, grabbing Tommy's hand, pulling him up the staircase with a laugh that’s all wild joy. He doesn't look back, doesn't need to, he knows Sal's behind them.
His blood is thrumming, he kicks the door shut behind them without slowing, backing Tommy up until the pilot’s thighs hit the edge of the bed. "Shirt," Buck grunts, tugging at the hem of Tommy's Henley. His blue eyes dark and demanding, "off. Now."
For once, Tommy doesn't hesitates, Buck can feel the tremor where their chest brush, but his hands move helping Buck shove the fabric up and over his head.
It lands somewhere on the floor, forgotten.
For a split second, he can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but take him in.
Broad chest, smooth skin stretched over muscle. A few freckles scatter about. A thin dusting of dark hair below his bellybutton that disappears into his waistband, and Buck wants to follow it with his mouth so badly his teeth ache.
But it’s the scars that get him.
The shrapnel damage blooms along the right side of Tommy’s ribs, pale and uneven, angry once but softened now.
He’s on him before he thinks, before he decides, palms sliding over Tommy’s chest, fingers tracing the uneven ridges along his ribs like he can read the story through touch alone.
“Jesus, Tommy…” Buck whispers almost broken, leaning in close enough that his breath ghosts hot over ruined skin. “You’re…” His voice catches, and he swallows hard. “Fucking beautiful.”
Before Tommy can process Buck words, the younger man tongue is dragging along the curve of the scar. Tasting salt and skin, mapping the uneven terrain
Tommy barely gets the time to gasp. To wonder. warm breathe where no ones ever touched before— then Bucks ducking down even further, moan on his lips as he gets an arm around each of Tommy's thighs. Then, biceps bulging, Buck lifts.
Lifts Tommy like he's nothing, like he could easily bench twice Tommy's weight, and… for an entire moment, Tommy weightless. lifted like he's nothing more than a sack of flour..
until Buck twists and Tommy groans when his back hits the king sized mattress behind him.
Sal's laugh echoes in his ears, "He surprises you doesn't he?"
But it's lost to the wash of arousal as Buck moves his mouth, destination: everywhere. Every single place that Tommy's never been kissed before and his skin burns at the touch.
His heart does triple time in his chest and Tommy gets a fist in those soft blond curls and hauls Buck up, a broken "Ev-Evan" on his lips as he pulls Buck into a kiss, bucking his hips up off the bed as he does so.
Buck twitches when Tommy yanks him up, scalp prickling under the sharp tug, and then the pilot’s mouth is on his greedy, warm and Buck gives. Gives everything over lets Tommy take what he wants.
He didn’t even notice the soft creak of the door until the mattress dipped behind his calves and Sal’s hands found his waist, hauling Buck back, freeing Tommy to brace up on his elbows.
The look on Tommy’s face, hungry, wild, surprised almost undid Buck all over again. Half his brain wonder if this was the high Sal felt when Buck was at his neediness.
And fuck, Buck wants to drown in it.
Wants to climb into Tommy’s skin, press against every raw nerve, map every scar with his hands, his mouth, his tongue until Tommy’s shaking under him. Wants him pliant, wants him wrecked, wants to hear the sounds he hasn’t ever made for another man.
But Sal’s hands tighten on his waist, dragging him back into the moment. He licks Buck's ear before murmuring, “We’re gonna take our time with him.”
One large hand slides into the sweat-damp curls and tangles there, firm and possessive.
Evan gasps, a choked, helpless little sound as Sal tightens his hold on him, pulling Buck flush against him as he fights to grind down into Tommy. His hips stutter, falter. “Easy, baby,” Sal murmurs, voice rough with affection. His thumb brushes behind Evan’s ear, a gentler counterpoint to the grip. “Don’t stop.”
Tommy pants under him, chest heaving and flush settling into every nook and cranny on his skin. All of him hungry for Evan's touch and he arches into nothing when Buck hesitates to touch him. Focuses on Sal. Arching back into the other man, knowing him, trusting him. willing for Sal to tell him when he's gone too far. Buck arches back into Sal's chest, head thrown back as he opens himself to the fire captain for a kiss at the same time he runs his hands up Tommy's chest.
Holding him close but seeking out dusky nubs Sal once drunkenly told him where irresistible.
—
Sal’s grip tightens in his curls, lighting him up all at once. He feels strung out between them, like every nerve is on fire.
Tommy's chest moves under Buck’s fingertips, trace lazy circles around dusky nipples before dragging lower, down the hard plane of muscle and back again. Tommy shudders, making a noise that it makes Buck groan helplessly into Sal’s mouth.
Sal kisses him slow Buck’s too wound up to meet the pace. He pulls back just enough to pant against Sal’s lips, “Sal… fuck, please, let me…”
Sal hums dark amusement curling around the sound as his hand settles on Buck's throat. “Let you what, Pup?” he murmurs, stroking his adam's apple. “Use your words, baby boy.”
Buck whines and withers under Sal's palm, he grinds down, making Tommy moan loudly, caught somewhere between desperation and defiance. “Want him,” he looks down at Tommy sprawled out beneath him. “Want him so bad, wanna taste him, wanna hear the breathy little whines he's gonna make when my tongue swirls around his hole… how his spine will shiver… wanna make it good for him. Hear him swear, lose his fucking mind when my fingers press into him… Sir… Please, let me.”
Sal chuckles low, teeth grazing the shell of Buck’s ear before he murmurs, “God, you’re greedy tonight.”
Tommy feels the words crash over him. His hips twitch before he can stop them, a helpless stutter up into Buck’s, and the sound that escapes him is caught halfway between a groan and a plea.
Buck hears it.
Blue eyes snap down to Tommy’s, blown wide and burning, and his grin curls but there’s something softer under it too, awe, wonder, like he knows. Because later … weeks, months, years from now… Tommy won’t look like this under him.
Later, he’ll be confident. Commanding. He’ll know exactly what he wants and how to take it. He’ll kiss harder, move surer, touch without questioning. One day, Tommy will own every inch of this.
And Buck knows it won’t be long before Sal and Tommy are moving tandem against him.
But not tonight.
Tonight Tommy is fresh and new and letting Buck touch him. Letting Sal control them. Letting his base wants finally surface and damn if Sal can hold out too much longer when Kinard is sprawled out under his baby like this.
Bucks greed isn’t new but it’s been so long since Sal's seen him as hungry as this. He licks into Bucks mouth, hot and wet and claiming. A reminder of Bucks place. Sal squeezes his hand against the pale throat beneath it and swallows down the groan Buck lets out.
Tommy curses at the sight before him, Sal curled around Bucks back, both of them looking like they crawled out of Tommy’s deepest fantasy. Admires the sprawl of red on Bucks neck around Sals and can’t help reaching out to set his hands on bucks waist. Tugs at the undershirt, desperate to feel his tattooed skin. His chest hair. Desperate to touch and feel man in a way he never has.
“Sal, please,” Bucks words sink into Tommy’s brain then, finally registering everything Buck had said and fire lances through him like agony.
Sal releases his grip slow as if resisting the urge to cinch down tighter on Buck’s windpipe, on his self-control or maybe both. Buck blinks lips parted and glossy with spit. His gaze pulls back to Sal.
Sal's thumb brushing across his cheekbone. “I’m right here,” he murmurs. “I won’t let you go too far. Won’t let you be too much. I’ve got you, Pup." Sal’s voice dips lower, a husky command wrapped in promise as his hand squeezes Buck’s nape… “Now feast.”
It’s permission and order and Buck moves. His hands go straight to Tommy’s jeans, he pops the button, drags the zipper down, and shoves the denim over strong thighs until they’re gone, discarded somewhere on the floor.
Tommy’s naked, skin pale and smooth, a few freckles splattered about, scars jagged and pale where shrapnel kissed his ribs. Buck swallows hard, and his palms trace up from Tommy’s knees to his waist like he’s mapping him.
“Fuck, Evan…” .and it makes Buck groan, leaning down until his lips hover just above Tommy’s skin.
“You’re gonna let me, yeah?” Buck asks, voice hoarse as his breath ghosts hot over the crease of Tommy’s hip. “Gonna let me taste you?”
Tommy can’t speak, just nods once, sharp and helpless.
Buck’s mouth hovered just above the curve where Tommy’s thigh met his hip. Tommy braced, anticipation coiling tight beneath his ribs. The bed dips and shifts, and then Buck licks a long stripe up the inside of Tommy’s thigh, nosing through the coarse hair.
Tommy’s hand jerked reflexively, fingers twisting in the sheets. The sensation startled something primal from him, a stuttering, needy groan. Buck’s breath fanned higher, dragging heat across the sensitive skin near his cock, and for a split second Tommy expected Buck to take him in his mouth; wanted it so badly.
But Buck pulled away, leaving his skin wet and cool where his tongue had been. One big hand braced Tommy’s hip, steadying him. The other snaked beneath Tommy’s knee, pushing his leg up, out, and fuck if there wasn’t a single moment of hesitation before Buck dove in again. This time, he didn’t kiss his way up, he just went straight for it, tongue flicking up against the tight, untouched rim of Tommy’s ass.
Tommy’s body arched instinctively, a full-body spasm, he chokes on a sound he’s never made before, his hand flying to fist in Buck’s hair without thought. Heat blooms everywhere at once, as his head drops back against the mattress. “Jesus... fuck...Evan,” he gasps, then just whines out a string curses that makes Sal's lip curl
Sal grins as he watches his boyfriend work for a moment, then quickly stripes out of his sweater and t-shirt as well, leaves his jeans on as he slides onto the bed next to his old friend.
Tommy looks far better than Sal ever picture on those cold nights at the fire house all those years ago. Golden skin ruddy and red, and Sal smirks as Tommy's curses only rise in volume. He knows how good Buck is with that mouth of his, Sal bets Tommy will lose his mind, more importantly, if Tommy if ever tempted to wander away from them, he'll be forever ruined by the sheer enormity that is the pleasure Evan is capable of.
Tommy's eyes blink open up at Sal when the bed dips next to him, but Buck's mouth is relentless and Tommy tries to twist away. Buck just holds him down and sucks on his rim, tongue pointed and probing until the thighs on either side of him tremble.
"Ev-Fuck! Ah, shit, so good!" Tommy can feel liquid heat settle at the base of his spine, and his cock throbs where it lays hard and pearling pre on his stomach. His fists clench in Buck's curls when the younger man skims his teeth along the sensative skin. "Oh-"
"Ah-ah, none of that." Sal growls in Tommy's ear. playful. spiteful. powerful as he reaches down to untangle Tommy's thick fingers from blond hair. rubs his fingers soothingly through Buck's hair for a moment, adding in his own tug near the base of his scalp that has Buck panting against Tommy's hole. "Good boy Pup. Doing so good, I think Tommy likes your mouth."
Tommy nods frantically, eyes wet and a frantic 'uh-huh' garbles as he tries to move into Buck's actions. Tries to get more of him, greedy himself now that he's had a taste.
Sal chuckles darkly and laces Tommy's hands in his, pressing them down on either side of the pilot before following them down so he can hover over Tommy's mouth. "You want more Tommy?"
Doesn't give him the chance to answer before dropping down the rest of the way to kiss him. Swallows down Tommy's whines like they're the very air he needs to breath. Only looks up when he feels a nudge to his knee.
Sal pulls back just far enough to glance down at Buck. "Did i tell you to stop Pup?"
On closer inspection, Buck hasn't stopped. Puffy red lips still working a trembling Tommy over, but he's hefted one of Tommy's legs up and over his shoulder so he can hold a hand out towards Sal. Long fingers wiggling in silent gimme motion.
“You got a mouth full of Tommy and you’re still begging?” Sal rumbles. “What the fuck am I gonna do with you, kid?”
Buck only makes a muffled sound against Tommy’s rim, something that’s half-growl, half-plea, and curls his fingers insistently.
Tommy moans loud back arching when Buck sucks hard enough to make his thighs quake, and Sal feels his cock twitch at the sight. He reaches blindly for the bottle on the nightstand, pops the cap, and coats Buck’s long, waiting fingers in a slick before curling his own hand around Buck’s wrist.
Holding him still, earning a whine and wiggle of his own from Evan. Tommy pants and tries to buck away as Evan's nose brushes against his cock as his mouth latches onto his sack, suckling in slow pulls before licking his way back to his hole.
Sal keeps a hold of him, doesn't even look at him. His gaze settles heavy on Tommy instead, and he tips his head, catching his old friend’s wide, glassy eyes.
“You want this, Kinard?” Sal asks, his tone shifting, intimate in a way that slides right under Tommy’s skin, "want Evan to work you open?”
For a moment, he can’t answer, can’t think, not with Buck’s mouth hot and wet between his thighs,not with Sal’s breath on his ear. He forces his eyes open, drags them to Sal’s, Sal who watches him expectantly, silently demanding the words.
"Yeah, Sal… fuck, I want it. I—fuck, I want him.”
“You hear that, baby?” Sal murmurs, his voice thick with approval, maybe pride. “Pilot wants your fingers inside him.”
And Buck wants to give it to him. Wants to slide his fingers in deep and curl them until Tommy’s withering and squirming. Buck wants it all: he tugs his hand from Sal's grip. Savours how he has to pull, and moves his fingers so the lube doesn’t dry.
Sal lets him go but it’s a pointed release. Like he knows how desperate his baby is for Tommy.
But Buck knows in return just how bad Sal wants to see Tommy fall apart.
Bucks hand drops down, hand probing and cautious as he sets slick fingertips to Tommy’s hole. Starts to press forward as he licks around the tips of his own fingers.
Tommy gasps, the sound purged from him as his body opens, almost unbidden, to Bucks touch.
That's it."
Tommy’s eyes flutter open, shining with unshed tears, locking onto Sal’s from where he watches. Sal catches his chin. “Breathe past it,” he instructs, and when Tommy obeys, Sal seals his mouth over his.
The kiss swallows the broken, keening sound that escapes Tommy as Buck eases that first slicked finger past the tight, untouched ring of muscle. Tommy fingers lace with Sal, he clings to him, then strains against where Sal’s still got him pinned.
Tommy gasps into Sal’s mouth, hips twitching, half wanting to move away, half wanting to chase Buck’s touch, the contradiction tearing him open as much as the stretch does.
Buck presses a kiss to the sensitive stretch of skin beneath bis balls, tongue darting out to taste sweat and heat, and when he glances up, it’s Sal he finds watching him. That slow, knowing smirk curves Sal’s mouth, makes Buck’s cock throb.
“You got more for him, Pup?” Sal asks, his thumb brushing lazy strokes over Tommy’s nipple.
Buck nods, breathless, applying more lube, then a second finger, drawing deliciously wet sounds from Tommy’s body that make Sal growl low in his throat.
Tommy chokes at the feel of the second finger, hips twitching up and back, not knowing which way to go. Not knowing how to deal with the foreign touch. Not knowing how to deal with overwhelming fullness that comes with something in side of him for the first time. With Evan being that something. Tommy does his best to breath through the burn and stretch as Evan works him open, panting and hiccuping and he hates that he's so undone by so little. Hates how much of a mess he feels.
But Sal just groans and kisses him again, soft whispers hot against Tommy's lips as the pilot shakes. His cock kicking against his belly as Evan stops at the second knuckle--it feels like so much more--and the hot brand of Evan's mouth and blunt teeth set into the liminal space in the crease between Tommy's hip and his cock.
Buck grins then, hiding it into where he's sucking a mark Tommy will hate him for tomorrow, but Sal must see it in the glint in his eye. And Buck carefully eases his fingers in and out of of the tight clutching heat of Tommy's ass, and he lets Tommy get accustomed to the sensation for all of thirty seconds before Buck twists his wrist, spreading his fingers and curling upwards...
Tommy yelps. His shout bouncing off the bedroom walls as he jackknives up off the mattress, head almost colliding with Sal's who's watching with sheer, smug delight.
“Holy fuck,” Buck pants against Tommy’s skin. “You feel… shit, Tommy, you’re gripping me so hard, can’t…” He breaks off on a groan, fingers curling again deliberately, searching, pressing until…
“FUCK!” Tommy cries out, voice cracking. The burn, the stretch, the pressure, he’s spiraling, chasing air.
"So fuckin' tight, Sal, so fuckin' hot, all warm and-and-mine.." Buck trails off as he flattens his tongue and drags it back over Tommy’s hole, pressing in as he re-coats his fingers.
Sal drags his thumb across Tommy's bottom lip, "Good," Sal says pleased. "Make him ready for you, baby."
"Gonna make our Pilot fuckin' fly."
Tommy shudders, hips jerking under Buck's relentless touch. Every sweep of Buck's tongue, every twist of slick fingers, sends sparks racing up his spine. The burn is still there, but something is blooming under it, heat curls in his belly.
It's too much. It's not enough. It's everything.
"E-Evan." Tommy at the sudden loss the younger man's mouth.
“One more, Kinard,” Sal murmurs, soothing and commanding all at once. “Let him in. You can take it.”
Buck is back in a heartbeat, ears ringing with Tommy’s pleas and fingers practically dripping with lube. Tommy’s taste coats his mouth and Buck thrums with barely held back desire to take take take. Sal ordered him to be gentle. But he’s also ordered Tommy to take him and Buck is more than happy to do so. Lube squelches as Buck goes back to Tommy’s ass, this time with three fingers and Bucks almost drooling as he watches them sink past the puffy red rim, stretched beyond anything Tommy’s ever experienced and clinging to Bucks fingers like he never wants to let him go.
“Ah-‘Van…Please! Please please please-“ Tommy’s voice cuts off, strangled and desperate. The burn is almost nonexistent now but the pressure is unmistakable. Sweat breaks out all over Tommy’s skin and his grip turns crushing on Sal and—
Bucks fingers curl, all three of them- and stars explode behind Tommy’s eyes as something lets go inside of him. His vision goes white as bolts of pleasure race along his nerves. An orgasm even though nothings touching his cock, Tommy thrashes, whimpering, Like someones reached inside of him and yanked and left nothing but pleasure behind. A deep rolling, insistent kind of pleasure and Tommy pushes back onto Evan’s fingers again and again, chasing the feeling as he gasps. “P-please, Sal, Ev… please please sorry, I-“
Sal catches Tommy’s jaw in one firm hand, forcing his wide, frantic eyes to meet his. “Hey,” Sal rumbles.
But Tommy’s gone… hips rolling, breath hitching, caught somewhere between panic and the kind of pleasure that terrifies him.
Sal fingers sink into Tommy's hair, giving a gentle tug, Sal knows. Knows Buck thrives on firm hands and sharp words, needs to be pulled apart and put back together. But Tommy? Tommy grew up under a father’s fists and fury, under silence and shame. So Sal reins it in, gives him steady firmness, "don't fucking apologize for feeling, good."
Buck chest heaves, watching Tommy fall apart around his fingers. “Fucking beautiful,” Buck groans, voice hoarse, "Christ, you're… fuck-Tommy. Sal,” Buck pants, as Tommy shiver under him, “he’s… fuck, feel him, he’s ready.”
Sal hums, slicks his own fingers, sliding them past Buck's hand. Tommy jolts at the first press, a startled cry filling the room. Sal's right there, "I've got you. Just me, sweetheart."
Tommy chokes on a sob as Buck curls his fingers again, hitting deep, right where Tommy's nerves are raw and screaming. His fingers find Buck's, they brush together, then he presses along with them.
Tommy lets out a high, needy sound Sal's on;y ever heard from Buck, a whine that makes Buck moans in response. Tommy's nails bit into Sal's arm, leaving little crescents behind as his head tips back hard against the pillows.
"Fuuuuck." Buck hisses, watching Sal's thick fingers move against his. "Look at him, Sal, look how he takes it…" Buck can't breathe. Can't fucking breathe.
His cock aches, so hard it hurts, he swears if Sal hadn't insisted he leave the plug out tonight, he'd already be ruined, messy thing under Tommy's noises alone. “Jesus fuck,” he chokes as Tommy clenches around his fingers. “Sal, I…” His head tips back, jaw tight, teeth bared as if he can bite down on the edge of this hunger clawing up his spine.
The thing is, Sal knows. Both his boys have been strung tight, and Buck has been on his best behaviour, surprising the fire Captain. Although he shouldn't be. For as amazing as buck feels when he is loses control, he loves being good just as much.
Loves being good for Sal.
So Sal looks his fill as he and Evan keep their fingers still in Tommy, giving the pilot a moments reprieve despite how badly Sal wants to pin his hips in place and force a dozen more prostate orgasms from him on his fingers alone. But Sal knows it wouldn't be fair.
He's promised Buck. Promised Tommy.
And Evan's been so gentle; Tommy so brave.
Sal swipes his thumb across Tommy's perineurium just because he can. Enjoys the twitch he gets in response and stares down at where Tommy's stretched open on their combined fingers. It's obscene. Amazing. Sal wants to take a picture and commit it to memory for the rest of his life. Trails his gaze along the sprawl of thick trembling thighs, calf muscles clenching as Tommy tries to get any kind of purchase on the sheets.
Slides his fingers out slowly-Tommy's whine wet and choked as he does so- and casts his eyes across the barrel chest beneath them. Gasping and heaving. So perfect Sal has the inexplicable desire to bite it. Leave his own imprint on Tommy the way Buck is.
He holds a hand out when Buck-panting, red faced and pre-come stain on his jeans so big anyone who didn't know Buck would think he'd come in them already-goes to withdraw his own fingers.
"No Pup, you stay for a minute." Sal orders and like the good boy he is, Buck hisses and listens. Sal drags his knuckles up from Tommy's hole and curls his hands around Tommy's balls, still so full and hot; and Sal squeezes for a moment, just to hear the sounds Tommy makes, before trailing up a bit further to rest his broad palm along the length of Tommy's hard cock.
"Are you ready Tommy? You ready for Buck to take his fill of you?"
Tommy’s head jerks at Sal’s words, blue eyes blown wide caught somewhere between panic and arousal. His breath stuttering as he stares up at Sal like the world has narrowed to nothing but this bed, these hands, these men.
Sal’s palm rests heavy against his cock, the weight of it enough to keep Tommy in his own body when his brain threatens to short-circuit. “I…” The sound cracks out of him and he swallows hard, trying again. “I… I don’t—”
“You’re okay.”
Sal doesn’t look away from Tommy’s face. His thumb drags along length of Tommy’s cock, firm enough to make the pilot gasp.
Tommy exhales shakily, hips twitching up into Sal’s palm without meaning to, a needy whine escaping before he can bite it back.
“You want him,” Sal says, not a question, but Tommy still nods, sharp and jerky, a choked yes scraping out of his throat.
Buck groans, forehead tipping forward to press against Tommy’s stomach, shoulders trembling with restraint as his breath comes in ragged pulls. “Sal,” he rasps, wrecked, needy. “Please.”
Sal smirks once before pulling his hand away, wiping the slick lazily on the inside of his thigh. He leans down, lips brushing Tommy’s ears. “Then let him ruin you, sweetheart. Let him take everything he’s been begging for.”
Buck’s head snaps up at that, blue eyes wild and hungry, and for the first time all night, he moves without waiting… pressing a kiss to Tommy’s inner thigh before sliding back up his body, braced on shaky arms.
All of Buck is shaking now. Sal's approval and Tommy's agreement make him sweat. Make him unhinged. Makes him feel entirely feral over the two men in his bed. He's a mess of spit and lube on his lips and fingers but he curls down into Tommy and kisses him wild. Without even looking Buck reaches out, and just by virtue of knowing Sal and where he his presence is, Buck can curl a hand into the collar of Sal's tee and haul him forward.
The three way kiss is messy and uncoordinated. More a mashing of their mouths together in a way that shouldn't work, and truly doesn't, but Buck needs them both close. Wants to take and plunder but also curl up inside of them and kneed his way to both their soft insides and claim them as his.
Because they are.
Sal pulls away first with a shake of his head, fingers in Buck's hair for a moment to hold him back so he can kiss Tommy soundly, and But can see Sal's lips move but his words are lost over the roar of blood in his ears and the great heaving gasps of air he's trying to pull in. Only when Sal lets him go does Buck scramble.
"God, fucking yes." Buck chants, shifting and squirming around until he can get the bottom of his shirt. Buck raises up on his knees and whips his shirt off.
Tommy feels his mouth water at the sight, at the vast expanse of pale skin and golden chest hair. small pert nipples hardened and acres of dark ink etched into Buck's skin. A noise escapes him from deep in his gut, pure want, the epitome of everything he was always too scared to look at. Now his for the--
Buck shucks his shirt without a thought and scrambles to get his jeans and boxers off in a single move. His cock long, hard and wet and slapping against his belly when he finally frees himself. Doesn't dare touch himself least he come just from looking down at Tommy spread out, waiting for him.
A hot flash hit Tommy, harder than anything he'd felt before.
He’d thought about this before, on lonely nights, tucked away where no one could see, his apartment dark and silent except for the blue glow of his laptop screen. He’d thought about men, imagined touches, fumbled fantasies he never had the courage to name out loud. One hand wrapped around his cock, headphones jammed in tight, muffling every desperate noise he made while shame burned hot in his chest.
Sometimes, more nights than he’ll ever admit, those fantasies circled around Sal.
But none of those nights, not one single, pathetic, silent orgasm in the dark, comes close to this.
Because this is real.
Buck leans over him, messy blond curls damp with sweat, blue eyes wide with something wild and soft at the same time. A feral need to make this good for him. There’s something in him that aches to give, to please.
“Look at you,” Buck coos. His big palms slide up Tommy’s thighs. “All stretched out for me… fuck, so pretty.” Nobody’s ever looked at him like this before. Like he’s the center of the goddamn universe.
Beside them, there’s the quiet rustle of movement, the crinkle of foil. Tommy’s breath stutters hard when his gaze darts sideways and sees. Sal’s hands, big, steady, so fucking sure rolling the condom down the thick length of Buck’s cock, fingers gliding easy as he works lube along the shaft.
The slick wet sound hits Tommy’s ears, it's obscene, and his stomach flips, coiling so tight it’s almost painful.
Buck gasps, hips jerking into Sal’s touch, faltering forward until his weight presses down, palms braced flat on Tommy’s chest to catch himself.
—
"Hush Pup," Sal coo's, not entirely meanly. "You're almost there."
Buck's cock is hard and throbbing in his hand and Sal casts one more look between his boyfriend and Tommy. Admires the mess they've made of each other.
"Last chance Tommy…" Sal whispers, hand still on the base of Buck's cock, holding him back even though he doesn't truly need too. If Tommy says no, Sal has no doubt that Evan would back away. "You going to be good for us?"
And like a man possessed, Tommy nods frantically. Head almost hitting Buck's before falling back to the pillow. And the pilot isn't sure where the well of bravery comes from. Maybe it's floated to his surface, buoyed by the orgasms and how good he feels under Evan. Under Sal. By having everything he ever wanted here, over him.
Buck whimpers in delight and hauls Tommy's leg higher, lets Sal be the one to guide him to Tommy's entrance and hold him there.
"Pup, you're trembling." Sal grins.
And Buck's not surprised to find that he is. Every bit of him is strung tight, and if he dared to look down at where the tip of his cock is already pressing hot and undeniable into Tommy, then Buck is sure he would shoot off immediately.
But he won't, he'll be good. He stays propped up over Tommy, the pilots leg hauled up as far—impressively far— as it'll go, and Buck follows Sal like he has since the day they met and presses into the tight hot clutch of Tommy's body.
—
Tommy's never felt anything like this. Nothing in his fumbling, shame-drenched nights of lonely fantasy prepared him for the reality of Buck’s cock stretching him open, inch by aching inch, heat burning.
"Breathe, sweetheart," Sal heard his own voice, pitched softer for Tommy, a tone he never used for most. One he saved for his boys. His hand firm on the back of Tommy's knee, "That's it… let him in."
Buck groans sweat dripping from his temple to Tommy’s chest, arms trembling with restraint as his hips move slow, too slow, not slow enough. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ache.
Sal watches them like a man cataloguing sin. He wants to taste it, feel the pulse of them under his teeth. See every nerve in Tommy's body lit up and know they're the reason. He's never seen Buck so close, so frayed yet so wild and controlled.
"Is it…" Buck pants, unable to string words together, "too… am i…"
Tommy's hands scramble up Buck's arms, wanted him. Wanted more. "Yes, please, Evan, more." He demands, eyes widen a little at how firm his words fall out.
It's the rough sureness in Tommy's tone that undoes him. "More," he repeats full of want and something heavier .
He rolls his hips forward, deeper this time, stuffing Tommy full, making him arch under him. One of Tommy's hand shoots up without thought, circling around Buck's throat.
Buck groans the hand on his throat sends shivers racing down his spine, feeding every feral urge clawing at the his restraint. "Tommy… you, fuck, you feel…"
"Use your words, baby."
He swallows, his Adams apple bobs under Tommy's palm, "you're so… Jesus, you're so fucking tight."
"Good," Sal praises, and Tommy whimpers, sound muffled when Buck steals his mouth.
And it's like once Buck has sunk to the hilt, he just tries to bury himself further. He grinds into Tommy, all stilted, sweaty movement as he kisses and kisses and kisses. Gasps when Tommy's fingers bite into the skin on his neck and it's so close to the way that Sal holds him sometimes that Buck whines with it. pushes his neck into Tommy's grasp the same time he draws his hips back an inch.
Tommy makes a startled sound at the movement but it cracks and breaks into something base and hungry. his head falls back, hair awry by the pillow and the way he shifts. trying to edge away from the pleasure, the goodgoodgood that wars with the knowledge, the sheer deep line in sand that he shouldn't want this. That he doesn't get to feel this good.
Not him.
But now, with eyes squeezed shut against the pleasure. Fingers squeezed shut against Evan's throat as he holds on; Tommy feels torn apart. like the old him is laid waste to whatever Sal and Evan will make of him. Evan is hot and thick inside of him, pulling out barely an inch only to push right back in and fire licks up Tommy's spine. Buck is carving a space for himself inside of Tommy and… and Tommy wants to let him. Wants to crack open his rib cage now and let Evan curl up inside of it just so he never has to feel anything else besides this ever again.
pleasure curls into the pads of his fingers. races through every bone in his body as Evan finally starts to draw back even further. Thrusts powerful and gentle— but not enough.
Tommy shifts as best he can and moans at the ceiling when it makes Evan drag across his prostate all of a sudden, but he fights to breathe through the pleasure and gets both ankles tossed up and on to Evan's back, pulling the younger man as close as he dares.
"C-Come on, Evan. More!"
—
Buck's muscles bunch and flex as he surges forward, hips rolling harder, until his pelvis presses flush against Tommy's ass, buried to the hilt and shaking. The mattress creaking beneath them.
"Fuck…" The word hisses through his clenched teeth as he blinks away the salt burn in his eyes.
"Listen to those pretty sounds he's making, Pup," Sal goads, his hot breath ghosting across his neck, "You feel how he's clenching around you, Pup? How he's pulling you in?"
Buck groans, jerking his head in a messy nod.
"Make him feel it," Sal orders, hand sliding up into Buck's curls, yanking his head back for a kiss before releasing him. "Go on, give him what he needs."
"God - yes," Tommy the syllables spilling out strangled, "Evan, that's," a yell swallows the rest of his words as Buck draws back until the blunt head of his cock nearly slips free before snapping back.
Tommy can't find words, there aren't any words for this. Just the slap of skin and ragged breathes puffing in and out of his chest as Buck drives into him. The sound of flesh on flesh, slick with lube, and sweat was so much louder than he'd ever imagined.
Buck's hips roll again, deeper, faster, chasing the way Tommy clenches around him, and it's almost too much. Too tight. Too good.
Tommy's mind pinball's between pain and pleasure. He leaking onto his own stomach, helpless and messy and then Sal's hand is there, between them, wrapping around him. Holy hell, was he going to come again? Was that even possible?
Sal props himself up besides them, stroking Tommy while his gaze stays locked on where Buck is slamming into him, grimacing like he was fighting not to come just from watching them together.
Sal's mouth crashes against his, tongue pushing in, hand cupping his jaw. It's claiming, he kisses him like he's Buck, like he's his. He groans brokenly into Sal's mouth.
Buck shudders, growls low in his throat, watching them, his hips snapping harder, greedier, chasing the sweet sounds he's pulling out of Tommy and Sal.
And Buck tries not to chase the rabbit of pleasure but he's helpless against it now. The quick thumping of his pulse and need riding high as he's swept away in the tight heat wrapped around his cock. Helpless to do anything but bury himself in it over and over and over.
Buries his face opposite Sal, gasps brokenly into Tommy's neck and inhales the scent of sweat and carnal pleasure.
Tommy grunts and moans under him with abandon, caught up in Sal's mouth as his nerves light up and his muscle clench and bunch as the arousal rides higher and higher within him.
Sal curse out a plethora of 'yes yes yes baby that's it, come on Tommy' and the words echo in Buck's ear. edging him on like they've been spoken to him.
Gentle, Sal told him. But there's nothing gentle about the way he's fucking the big man underneath him.
Gentle, Sal told him. There's nothing gentle about the way Tommy's hand tightens on his throat.
About the way his ass clenches down as Buck changes the angle ever so slightly. Just enough to graze against Tommy's prostate on every stroke.
Gentle, Sal told him. But it's just static in Buck's brain now.
Because there's nothing gentle about the violent way Tommy's locks up, cock kicking red purple angry in Sal's grip as he starts to come.
Nothing gentle about the way Tommy, head thrown back and blue eyes unfocused, breaks apart. Hair skewed every which way. Golden skin flushed red and hot. Wet with sweat and come.
Sal's hand as unforgiving as Evan's pace.
—
Buck doesn't last.
He can't. Not with Tommy clenching around like that, not with Sal's voice rolling over his skin, the press of two bodies against him, drawing him in and pulling him apart all at once.
The strangled cry ripping out of Tommy's throat, Buck breaks right there with him. His hips slam forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt as pleasure detonates low in his gut, scattering across every nerve. He comes hard, deep, spilling into the condom, his whole body seizing until it has nothing left to give.
Tommy breathes through the aftershocks as Buck nose runs along his throat, soft kisses trailing as Buck melts into him, heavy and panting. He’s still buried deep in Tommy, softening but aching, nerves fried and buzzing, every inch of him lit up and hypersensitive.
But Sal isn’t done.
Large hands close around Buck’s waist, pulling him upright just enough to arch his back. “Up, Pup,” Sal orders, Buck leans into it, chasing the contact without thought or shame. “Not finished with you yet.”
"Sal," Buck drags the word out, hoarse, blue eyes glassy when he tips his head back to look at him. "I.. can't." The protest is hallow.
"Baby," Sal murmurs low, his lips brushing into the sweat-damn curls behind Buck's ear, "Where are you right now, hmm? Give me a color?"
Buck's head tips back against Sal's shoulder, "I'm.. I'm good." His head lulls, necking twisting just enough to catch his gaze. Sal's eyes narrow and he swallows, "yellow…no, green'ish…" his lashes flutter, lips parting as he lips meets Sal's. "Just… sensitive."
Sal exhales slowly against his neck, letting the warmth of it bleed into Buck’s skin, "good boy," he praises, his lips move against Buck's temple as he speaks.
Tommy groans faintly beneath them, still sprawled, catching his breath. He blinks, glazed, watching the two of them pressed close above him.
Buck rubs back against him, a desperate twitch like his body begging for more. Sal sees it, feels it, and grins. "You want more, don’t you?”
Buck nods fast, frantic, before his brain catches up, shame and want warring all over his face. “Y-yeah,” he admits, his fingers curling around Sal’s wrists. “God, yes, I…. fuck, please.”
The blunt heat of Sal’s cock presses against him, thick, and Buck’s whole body jolts as Sal pushes in deep, one smooth thrust burying him to the root.
Buck's nails dig into Tommy's chest, "Sal," he cries. "Yes, yes, pleaa-ah!"
Sal sets a punishing rhythm from the start… fast, deep. The younger man clenches tight around him, overstimulated and aching, every nerve alight, as he rides the edge of too much and not enough.
“You can give me one more,” Sal growls, fingers digging bruises into Buck’s hips. “Gonna wring you dry, Pup.”
Buck sobs, heat curling and unbearable low in his gut, until his body shudders violently, clenching down around Sal as another orgasm rips through him, fast and messy and empty. Nothing comes this time, just the brutal waves of sensation tearing through him until his arms give out and he collapses boneless against Tommy’s chest.
Sal follows seconds later, groaning low and rough as he drives deep, spilling into him with a sharp grunt. He collapses onto Buck's back, biting down gently.
Tommy lets out a humph noise at the sudden weight of both men. Sal lets out a laugh and rolls off Buck to Tommy's left.
- Buck hisses as Sal pulls out as he falls, groaning as he turns into one giant puddle on top of Tommy's heaving chest. He twitches, the occasional jolt of pleasure still working it's way along his nerves as Buck buries his face into the soft divot between Tommy's pecs and lets his eyes fall closed.
"Holyfuck." Buck grunts, voice smushed.
Sal just laughs again, tone smug. "You did good kid."
He reaches out to gently run his fingers through Buck's wayward curls. Tugging on them playfully, a silent signal of 'Good Job' that makes Buck sigh happily. Sal makes a mental note to give him a treat later, for being so good, before he glances at Tommy. Curious to see if they managed to shut off his big brain, or if the panic has started to settle back in.
Sal hooks an ankle over Tommy's and nudges his friend with his knee, getting his attention without disturbing his boy. Tommy blinks blue eyes open slowly, face lax in the way Sal recognizes as him being entirely shellshocked by a sitation. He's seen it at calls, after long cold nights at the station and a few times in the bunk room, both of them woken with nightmares.
Actually Sal's pretty sure if Evan wasn't laying on top of Tommy right now he'd be attempting to get up out of the bed and flee.
"Hey," Sal whispers, voice going soft. He leaves one hand in Buck's hair and rolls over enough that he can drop his head onto Tommy's shoulder, pinning him in place even further. Doesn't need Tommy running away right now. "Deep breaths Kinard."
Buck's head bounces as Tommy's breath stutters out of him on a shaky exhale. He rolls his face up onto his chin to look up at Tommy through hooded, pleasure drunk eyes. His hands, thick and sweaty run up and down Tommy's sides like they did earlier as he tries to ground the man under him. Buck has to leave the higher brain functioning to Sal right now, but it doesn't stop his need to touch. To comfort. To take his fill of Tommy and hope he's giving something good in return.
"Do it again," Sal orders. Shifting until he can worm his other arm under Tommy's neck and nods as Tommy hiccups out another breath. "Good."
When his breaths start coming in a bit easier, Tommy drops his head sideways to stare at Sal. At the same time he finally manages to lift his arms and rest them carefully around Evan's waist; like he's afraid that he's not allowed to touch now that the fucking is done but does it because Sal told him to be brave earlier and the order is still kicking around in his bloodstream.
Buck merps happily like a big lazy cat and bodily sinks even further onto Tommy's broad chest.
"Th-That was…" Tommy's throat clicks, dry and sex rough and he blushes all over at the sound of himself. Sal grins, following the red slowly taking back over Tommy's sweat slick skin as the pilot slowly processes the past two hours.
"Good?"
Tommy levels his old friend with a flat look — one that's so purely Tommy that it makes fondness swell in Sal's chest. He let's the feeling settle inside him, lets it curl up and make a home next to the the pride and smugness that always fill him after wrapping Evan up in his whims. "Fishing for compliments?"
Sal snorts, "Thought we fucked the sass outta ya, clearly we need to up our game."
Buck makes a small disgruntled happy noise that sounds suspiciously like 'ohmygodilldie' but neither of the older men pay him much mind. Sal knows his boy and knows Evan's brain needs time to reboot, and Tommy trusts Sal enough to tell him what to do where the blond is concerned.
Tommy ponders for a moment, considers how much he would need to move in order to bite Sal and—well, it proves to be a little to far for him to accomplish right now.
Later, he tells himself.
Tommy's limbs feel like weights and his body aches all over, but it's the best he thinks he's ever felt. Because, out of everything, he can feel the panic edging it's way away into the far recesses of his mind. So far from the surface where it normally sits, held back by Evan's comforting weight and Sal's presence at his side. Right where it always used to be.
Tommy feels like he can breath for the first time in his life and the air tastes like male and sweat and spunk.
Some long lost part of him quivers and only stops when a set of blunt teeth bite sink into his pec. The pain is more familiar, grounding and Tommy cracks an eye open—when did they close— to stare down at Evan. "Ow?"
Blue eyes sparkle up at Tommy, mischievous and knowing. Evan lets go of his mouthful slowly, making the pilot hiss and, against all odds, his cock twitch against his leg. He knows there' no chance of him getting hard again, not after three life changing orgasms. but Evan's mouth has no doubt brought lesser men to their knees and Tommy is sure he's no exception.
"Mine," Buck breathes, his words a rasp that curls under Tommy's ribcage. It's spoken like a secret, a vow, like he isn't aware that words slip past his lips.
Sal catches it, smiles faintly from where he props himself up on one elbow. He doesn’t tease, doesn’t quip, doesn’t downplay it. He just… watches. Watches his boy cling to the next most important person in his life.
Because that's what Buck does when the restlessness finally dulls.
He watches as Buck rolls off carefully before curling himself into Tommy's side like he has always meant to be there. One arm hooks over his stomach, his fingers dragging lazily over the scar tissue while his face nuzzles into Tommy's arm. He inhales deep, greedy, eyes fluttering close as he drags in the heavy musk of Tommy. The scent of all three of them.
Buck hums against Tommy's skin, his arms tighten where it is slung across Tommy, like he's making sure the man doesn't vanish. "Sal," he murmurs, pulling his eyes back open to look across Tommy's chest to meet his partner's gaze before he settles back into the crook of Tommy's arm. "'Take care of him,' he mumbles, voice trailing off, 'make sure he's -kay… Be Sal."
Sal swallows against the lump that punches its way into his throat. He reaches across and his fingers lightly brush through Buck's curls. "Yeah, Pup, I've got him. Stand down baby."
Buck exhales at the command, his lashes flutter but they don’t open again, and Sal watches as his breathing becomes even.
Sal keeps brushing his curls back. A soft, needy hum spilling from Buck’s throat. The one Sal only ever hears when his boy is bone-tired, wrung out, and finally safe enough to let go.
Tommy blinks, silent beneath the both of them, a knot forming in his throat with words he doesn’t know how to form. He can feel Buck breathing change.
And Sal knows Buck. Knows the battlefield inside his head doesn’t quiet easily, not for anyone but him, something loosen in his chest as he watches him wrap around Tommy, still.
“Ours,” Buck murmurs again, quieter this time. Like he needs to carve them into something before he slips under.
His thumb strokes circles at Buck’s temple, “he’s ours. Go to sleep.”
Buck lets out one last shaky breath and finally goes boneless.
Tommy stares up at Sal as he listens to Buck breathe in sleep. "Yours?" Say's it like he can barely believe it.
Sal smirks and leans over to kiss Tommy's chest, right where his boyfriend had bitten. "Ours."
They tuck themselves around Buck's sleeping form, settling in together in this new way, and Sal smiles softly to himself as he watches Tommy fall asleep next to Buck.