White Collar RPF, Admirer
Title: Admirer
Author: Afiawri
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Matt/Tim
Warnings: RPF, explicit, very very mild dub-con tones.
Word Count: 1505
For: zalman23, for donating to the flood relief auction.
Summary: Love notes and adultery.
Matt watches his shoes on the tile floor, trying to figure out how to walk without squeaking. He's so tired he can't even hold his head up. And his left heel is killing him, but if he tries to keep his weight off it, the rest of both feet hurt and the squeaking gets worse.
He sees the light underneath his dressing room door only when he's right up against it.
A weary smile creeps up his lips. He knocks on his own door, waits a beat.
He knows this game, so he turns around stares down the hall he just came from. The door opens and someone slips out and walks down the hall the other way.
"Thank you," Matt says, loud enough to be heard in the opposite direction.
The footsteps fade and Matt turns to his dressing room.
Everything is straightened and cleaned more meticulous than Matt has ever managed. His secret admirer, coming by again.
He gets notes sometimes. He's saved them all, right here in this drawer, and now if the writer wants to leave more, he sets them on top of the pile. Matt goes to the drawer and draws out the second one, the one he always leaves on top.
It's too worn to see the words and Matt doesn't remember the words that possessed him to leave his door unlocked for some anonymous note-writer, but that's how it started.
Sometimes, there are gifts. Or sometimes, when Matt is really tired or worn out or frustrated, his room gets cleaned. And sometimes there's just a note.
Matt unfolds the new one.
It reads, I love you.
Not Leave your room empty next Wednesday so I can clean. Not a simple compliment. Not even a poem, like on a couple occasions. This is the same paper and this is scribbled with a pen from Matt's desk, but it doesn't match any of the rest of the notes, not in the least.
Matt becomes aware of a presence behind him and turns.
There he stands, leaning in the doorway.
Matt glances away. They can still pretend he didn't see. That he doesn't know who has time off whenever he receives these gifts. That he didn't recognize the hand writing on the very first note.
"Matt." Tim's voice is low.
Matt shakes his head, staring at the note. I love you. "Don't."
Tim steps into the room and takes Matt's arm. "This has gone on long enough."
Matt tries to close his hand around the paper, tries to crumple it, maybe throw it away, but he can't manage. He sets it down on the desk, Tim's hand moving with him. "I can't."
Tim spins Matt towards him and kisses him dead on the lips. "I love you. And if you didn't want to hear it, you'd have sent me away. And I want you and if you didn't want me back, you'd have ended this when I sent you dirty sonnets."
Matt doesn't dare look up at Tim. "I'm married."
"That's not a no."
"No, I can't."
Hands push at his chest. Matt back pedals to the chair, but lands on his ass on the rug halfway there. Tim doesn't mind, just straddles him and opens his shirt, buttons whipping by faster than Matt's pounding heart beats.
"Still not the same as a no. Tell me you don't want this."
Matt shudders under Tim's hands.
"We shouldn't do this."
Tim's lips press to his collarbone. A shudder rises up out of Matt. He keeps his hands firmly clenched in the rug, not touching Tim back, not encouraging, just watching. Letting it happen. His hands fist tighter, keeping them there more firmly even as Matt tries to gather his resolve to deny he wants this.
Tim pushes his shirt back and kisses down to a nipple. He takes a moment to look at it, admire it. “I’ve always wanted to touch these, every time you’re half naked in a cold room, everyone watching how hard these stay for hours. I always want to taste one.”
Tim pinches the nipple he’s breathing on, rolls it between his fingers. It hardens, but nowhere near as fast as the cock in Matt’s pants. Matt turns away in shame, but just his head moves. He doesn’t dare move his chest away from Tim’s touch more than an inhale.
Matt’s eyes flicker towards Tim though. He sees Tim’s tongue sticking out from between his lips. A shudder runs through his body at the wetness. At how Tim’s tongue moves straight up and down, tricking Matt’s body into thinking he’s fucking and his nipple is rubbing up against another body.
Matt moans. His dick quivers in his pants, leaking precome so quickly he might as well have come for all the dignity it’s left him.
He leans down, arching his back to make his nipples more accessible without ever moving an inch closer. “You should stop, you should stop.” The warm air Tim blows on his nipples nearly knocks Matt to the ground.
A gentle hand does it for him, presses him down to the rug. Matt looks up at Tim, his eyes naked. Scared. They’re both married. And he’s been falling in love with Tim for months which just makes it worse.
Tim holds his eyes so steadily Matt never sees the hand coming until it’s around the bulge of his cock, squeezing it through his pants.
He’s given Matt every opportunity to say something. His hands lose their hesitation when they free his cock. Matt raises his head to watch, even reaches down and guides his cock away from the zipper with a stray piece of metal Tim won’t be able to see.
And then he gives it a stroke. A flick of his hand down his length.
Tim flows over him. His entire body dwarfs Matt. He cups Matt’s cheek and dives into a kiss, their first kiss, with Tim’s weight on Matt’s hand that’s holding his naked erection.
Tim is sweet, but desperate. His gentle, slow tongue is interspersed with nips to Matt’s lower lip. His hips rock, rub his clothed cock against the back of Matt’s hand.
“Needed this for so long. Needed you. Don’t talk, don’t say anything. If you need to, close your eyes and pretend I’m him.”
Matt’s hands come up to grip Tim’s shirt. He works open the buttons one by one, rocks into Tim, eyes closed, not pretending, but not able to face this for what it is either.
“You’re most handsome when you’re away from the cameras,” Tim whispers. Hearing those words in his voice, the words from a note, sends a shiver down Matt’s spine. He didn’t imagine the inflection Tim would use on Away when he read it alone.
Tim tugs his own shirt off over his head, the fabric zipping through Matt’s hands so fast it feels hot. And then there’s just skin.
Tim blindly undoes his pants with his lips smashed to Matt’s. Every shift of his hand tilts his body, tilts his lips. His lips thrust a little too, pushing Matt’s head back until it’s resting on the rug.
Matt can’t take it anymore and opens Tim’s pants for him in one swift motion. He draws out Tim’s cock and there it is, in his hand, larger than he’d thought.
And closer to his own than it has any right to be.
Matt presses them together, wraps his hand around both together. Tim’s cock slides easily past his in the generous precome.
Matt’s heart pounds and he can feel his pulse in his cock. With how hard it’s pounding, Tim can probably feel it too.
As Matt’s hips slide forward, his eyes flicker to Tim’s, so close, staring right at him like he’s captivated with Matt’s face even with clothes pushed away from both their cocks and Matt’s chest.
Matt shudders. His eyes slide close and he gives himself up to rutting into his own hand. Tim echoes his motion and their cocks slide alongside each other so fast
Tim’s hand slides down and around his thigh and Matt can already tell where that’s going. A finger presses over his hole and rubs across his rim, warm and gentle and unthreatening. And arousing.
Matt thrusts faster, speeds up until his balls draw up, threatening to come. The only sound is the slapping of skin and Tim’s grunts of pleasure and Matt’s rough breaths. Tim’s hand closes half over Matt’s, surrounding Matt’s cock head.
Matt’s cock flows over into Tim’s warm, soft hand on every thrust. Matt writhes on his rug, eyes closed, his secret admirer still toying with his hole.
Right on the edge, hovering on orgasm, too far gone to stop it, Matt manages a sobbed, “No.”
It’s not a refusal; it’s a denial. Of the come he’s pumping out all over Tim. Of the pleasure rushing over him in powerful shivers. Of Tim’s own orgasm seconds later.
Matt collapses back, covered in his secret admirer's come from thigh to waist.
Also posted at: http://afiawri.dreamwidth.org/22158.html
Author: Afiawri
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Matt/Tim
Warnings: RPF, explicit, very very mild dub-con tones.
Word Count: 1505
For: zalman23, for donating to the flood relief auction.
Summary: Love notes and adultery.
Matt watches his shoes on the tile floor, trying to figure out how to walk without squeaking. He's so tired he can't even hold his head up. And his left heel is killing him, but if he tries to keep his weight off it, the rest of both feet hurt and the squeaking gets worse.
He sees the light underneath his dressing room door only when he's right up against it.
A weary smile creeps up his lips. He knocks on his own door, waits a beat.
He knows this game, so he turns around stares down the hall he just came from. The door opens and someone slips out and walks down the hall the other way.
"Thank you," Matt says, loud enough to be heard in the opposite direction.
The footsteps fade and Matt turns to his dressing room.
Everything is straightened and cleaned more meticulous than Matt has ever managed. His secret admirer, coming by again.
He gets notes sometimes. He's saved them all, right here in this drawer, and now if the writer wants to leave more, he sets them on top of the pile. Matt goes to the drawer and draws out the second one, the one he always leaves on top.
It's too worn to see the words and Matt doesn't remember the words that possessed him to leave his door unlocked for some anonymous note-writer, but that's how it started.
Sometimes, there are gifts. Or sometimes, when Matt is really tired or worn out or frustrated, his room gets cleaned. And sometimes there's just a note.
Matt unfolds the new one.
It reads, I love you.
Not Leave your room empty next Wednesday so I can clean. Not a simple compliment. Not even a poem, like on a couple occasions. This is the same paper and this is scribbled with a pen from Matt's desk, but it doesn't match any of the rest of the notes, not in the least.
Matt becomes aware of a presence behind him and turns.
There he stands, leaning in the doorway.
Matt glances away. They can still pretend he didn't see. That he doesn't know who has time off whenever he receives these gifts. That he didn't recognize the hand writing on the very first note.
"Matt." Tim's voice is low.
Matt shakes his head, staring at the note. I love you. "Don't."
Tim steps into the room and takes Matt's arm. "This has gone on long enough."
Matt tries to close his hand around the paper, tries to crumple it, maybe throw it away, but he can't manage. He sets it down on the desk, Tim's hand moving with him. "I can't."
Tim spins Matt towards him and kisses him dead on the lips. "I love you. And if you didn't want to hear it, you'd have sent me away. And I want you and if you didn't want me back, you'd have ended this when I sent you dirty sonnets."
Matt doesn't dare look up at Tim. "I'm married."
"That's not a no."
"No, I can't."
Hands push at his chest. Matt back pedals to the chair, but lands on his ass on the rug halfway there. Tim doesn't mind, just straddles him and opens his shirt, buttons whipping by faster than Matt's pounding heart beats.
"Still not the same as a no. Tell me you don't want this."
Matt shudders under Tim's hands.
"We shouldn't do this."
Tim's lips press to his collarbone. A shudder rises up out of Matt. He keeps his hands firmly clenched in the rug, not touching Tim back, not encouraging, just watching. Letting it happen. His hands fist tighter, keeping them there more firmly even as Matt tries to gather his resolve to deny he wants this.
Tim pushes his shirt back and kisses down to a nipple. He takes a moment to look at it, admire it. “I’ve always wanted to touch these, every time you’re half naked in a cold room, everyone watching how hard these stay for hours. I always want to taste one.”
Tim pinches the nipple he’s breathing on, rolls it between his fingers. It hardens, but nowhere near as fast as the cock in Matt’s pants. Matt turns away in shame, but just his head moves. He doesn’t dare move his chest away from Tim’s touch more than an inhale.
Matt’s eyes flicker towards Tim though. He sees Tim’s tongue sticking out from between his lips. A shudder runs through his body at the wetness. At how Tim’s tongue moves straight up and down, tricking Matt’s body into thinking he’s fucking and his nipple is rubbing up against another body.
Matt moans. His dick quivers in his pants, leaking precome so quickly he might as well have come for all the dignity it’s left him.
He leans down, arching his back to make his nipples more accessible without ever moving an inch closer. “You should stop, you should stop.” The warm air Tim blows on his nipples nearly knocks Matt to the ground.
A gentle hand does it for him, presses him down to the rug. Matt looks up at Tim, his eyes naked. Scared. They’re both married. And he’s been falling in love with Tim for months which just makes it worse.
Tim holds his eyes so steadily Matt never sees the hand coming until it’s around the bulge of his cock, squeezing it through his pants.
He’s given Matt every opportunity to say something. His hands lose their hesitation when they free his cock. Matt raises his head to watch, even reaches down and guides his cock away from the zipper with a stray piece of metal Tim won’t be able to see.
And then he gives it a stroke. A flick of his hand down his length.
Tim flows over him. His entire body dwarfs Matt. He cups Matt’s cheek and dives into a kiss, their first kiss, with Tim’s weight on Matt’s hand that’s holding his naked erection.
Tim is sweet, but desperate. His gentle, slow tongue is interspersed with nips to Matt’s lower lip. His hips rock, rub his clothed cock against the back of Matt’s hand.
“Needed this for so long. Needed you. Don’t talk, don’t say anything. If you need to, close your eyes and pretend I’m him.”
Matt’s hands come up to grip Tim’s shirt. He works open the buttons one by one, rocks into Tim, eyes closed, not pretending, but not able to face this for what it is either.
“You’re most handsome when you’re away from the cameras,” Tim whispers. Hearing those words in his voice, the words from a note, sends a shiver down Matt’s spine. He didn’t imagine the inflection Tim would use on Away when he read it alone.
Tim tugs his own shirt off over his head, the fabric zipping through Matt’s hands so fast it feels hot. And then there’s just skin.
Tim blindly undoes his pants with his lips smashed to Matt’s. Every shift of his hand tilts his body, tilts his lips. His lips thrust a little too, pushing Matt’s head back until it’s resting on the rug.
Matt can’t take it anymore and opens Tim’s pants for him in one swift motion. He draws out Tim’s cock and there it is, in his hand, larger than he’d thought.
And closer to his own than it has any right to be.
Matt presses them together, wraps his hand around both together. Tim’s cock slides easily past his in the generous precome.
Matt’s heart pounds and he can feel his pulse in his cock. With how hard it’s pounding, Tim can probably feel it too.
As Matt’s hips slide forward, his eyes flicker to Tim’s, so close, staring right at him like he’s captivated with Matt’s face even with clothes pushed away from both their cocks and Matt’s chest.
Matt shudders. His eyes slide close and he gives himself up to rutting into his own hand. Tim echoes his motion and their cocks slide alongside each other so fast
Tim’s hand slides down and around his thigh and Matt can already tell where that’s going. A finger presses over his hole and rubs across his rim, warm and gentle and unthreatening. And arousing.
Matt thrusts faster, speeds up until his balls draw up, threatening to come. The only sound is the slapping of skin and Tim’s grunts of pleasure and Matt’s rough breaths. Tim’s hand closes half over Matt’s, surrounding Matt’s cock head.
Matt’s cock flows over into Tim’s warm, soft hand on every thrust. Matt writhes on his rug, eyes closed, his secret admirer still toying with his hole.
Right on the edge, hovering on orgasm, too far gone to stop it, Matt manages a sobbed, “No.”
It’s not a refusal; it’s a denial. Of the come he’s pumping out all over Tim. Of the pleasure rushing over him in powerful shivers. Of Tim’s own orgasm seconds later.
Matt collapses back, covered in his secret admirer's come from thigh to waist.
Also posted at: http://afiawri.dreamwidth.org/22158.html