Fic: White Noise (Smoke and Mirrors #2)
Title: White Noise
Series: Smoke and Mirrors #2
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Gunn/Lindsey
Spoilers/Timeline: S2 post-Redefinition
Summary: What happens in Lindsey's apartment?
*
Gunn's not sure if what he's doing qualifies as stupid, but he doesn't think so. He's gone on instinct most of his life, and his gut is just pulling and tugging him along.
Where isn't really all that clear yet. Right now it's getting in the elevator to go up to Lindsey's apartment. Lindsey hits the floor button about eight times in two seconds and Gunn takes hold of his wrist and pulls his hand away from the buttons.
Lindsey starts like someone's just snuck up behind him and screamed "Boo", and his eyes fly to Gunn's.
Gunn is the aficionado of brown eyes. Seen them in every shade and hue. Been locked just like this with dozens of them in male and female bodies. Brown eyes, Gunn knows from experience, are soft, even when they're hard. They absorb. Take things in and soak them up. Lindsey's blue eyes are something alien. They're too clear and bright to actually soak anything up. It's like everything Gunn's sending out just bounces back and hits him right in the chest.
There are tiny bits of yellow around Lindsey's pupil, like sparks of the sun in a summer sky--and, *day-um*, that sounds so very girly. But the thought stays. Lindsey's eyes are as crisp and unknowable as the sky. It makes Gunn want to stare and stare until he can see past the surface. Until what's hitting him right in the chest isn't just what he's sending out. Until he actually gets to *Lindsey*, because that's what he wants to see. He wants to see the man in the eyes. Wants to see if that man looks anything like him.
Gunn's still holding Lindsey's wrist and they're climbing higher in the building, the ascent making Gunn feel leaden. Lindsey's gaze is searching for Gunn's motives, looking for the shank that he thinks is going to get rammed into his gut when he least expects it. Gunn wonders if Lindsey only functions at extremes--total or no trust. Gives someone everything or nothing.
He rubs his thumb along the pad of Lindsey's thumb and gets a little clenching in his stomach at the sensation, at the feel of Lindsey's pulse throbbing just under the skin. He smiles at Lindsey when the elevator stops and releases the other man's hand with a lingering touch that has Lindsey sucking in a breath.
The doors open and Lindsey blinks once then steps out. Gunn follows him down a short hall that's nicer than his apartment. Damn. Get him a fridge and a television and he could live in the hallway. Sleep right on that nifty sofa in the open area next to the elevator banks.
Lindsey opens his door and Gunn steps into the apartment behind him. The place is swank and Gunn has the urge to wipe his feet and tuck his hands in his pockets. Lindsey stalks right to a chair and strips his suit jacket off, tossing it aside and rifling his hand through his hair.
Gunn watches the other man fidget and is kind of awed. It's like there's electricity crackling under Lindsey's skin, the way he can't be still. He wants to go over there and give Lindsey a reason to be moving around like something's itching under his skin. But he made his intent clear in the elevator, and it's up to Lindsey now.
Up to Lindsey to make a move if he wants something to happen. Gunn thinks he does, otherwise he wouldn't have been invited up. As for why...he's got no clue about what made Lindsey invite him up. Just like Lindsey's probably got no idea why he agreed to come up.
A little smile curls at Lindsey's mouth and his lids are kind of lowered. Gunn feels the palms of his hands throb and tingle. Yeah, there's a reason for this, but that don't mean there isn't anything else. Because Lindsey sexier than all get out. He's got that pouty mouth and the broad chest, and some kind of overall sultry thing going. Yeah, sultry. Like a hot summer day, with porches and lemonade--what the *hell* is Lindsey bringing out in him? Because he's not digging this flowery shit.
Oh, but he is digging the fact that Lindsey has moved. *Is* moving. Closer. Towards Gunn. He stops less than a foot away, and Gunn looks down at him. Something like a minute goes by, Lindsey twitching and shifting the entire time.
"Got anything to drink up in here?" Gunn asks with a smirk.
Lindsey makes an irritated noise. "I didn't invite you up here for a damn drink!"
Gunn chuckles a little, then moves closer until there's only an inch or so between them. "No? Then what did you ask me up for?"
If Gunn were to take a deep breath, his chest would brush against Lindsey's, they're that close. But he keeps his breathing easy, waits while Lindsey's eyes go wide for a long moment, then narrow. Gunn lowers his head when Lindsey lifts his, and a lot of first kisses are awkward, in Gunn's experience, but this one isn't because they take their time at first, go slow and easy.
Lindsey's lips settle over his, mostly closed. They just kind of slot perfectly against Gunn's and rest there, and Gunn's eyes drift shut as he brings a hand to the back of Lindsey's neck, fingers brushing against his hair. He feels Lindsey's mouth move and he mimics the motion, their lips opening and closing against each other.
Gunn presses the heel of his hand against the nape of Lindsey's neck, then drags it up so that his fingers can tangle in that blondish brown hair. His tongue slips out, and he slides it along Lindsey's lower lip. Lindsey's mouth parts some more, and he takes in a short breath. Then his hands reach for Gunn. The right one just sits at his waist, but the left takes hold of his waistband and pulls him closer, then moves up and settles high on Gunn's side.
There's the taste of whiskey on Lindsey's lip, and it's kind of sweet and warm. Tastes better than whiskey alone does, so Gunn goes back for more. Uses the hand on Lindsey's head to tip his head back, and his tongue is wide and lazy as it laps at Lindsey's lower lip. He wonders if he can get drunk on that taste, and then he stops thinking, because Lindsey's tongue eases out of his mouth and catches Gunn's.
And it's all relaxed and so damn slow that it makes Gunn feel heavy and weighed down. Their mouths widen and their tongues are moving against each other in long, slow strokes and Gunn's been half hard since he was staring at Lindsey across the room, and now his cock is hard and throbbing.
He brings a hand to Lindsey's waist and pulls him that list inch in, and they both have to lift their heads to take a breath that's more like a gasp. Lindsey's panting, staring up at Gunn with glittering eyes, and there's not so much getting reflected back at Gunn anymore, and there's more of Lindsey there.
Gunn braces Lindsey with his hand, then rubs against him. And there's a height difference, but not so much that the effort is wasted. Oh, hell no, it's not wasted. Lindsey's hard, and it's a sliver of ecstatic pleasure, coming up against it.
It's like a shield falls away from Lindsey's eyes at the contact, and suddenly Gunn sees everything and he realizes that brown eyes absorb, but blue eyes *send*. He's getting everything from Lindsey. Getting the need and the desire. Getting everything raw, like it doesn't get softened on its way out.
And in the middle of it all is wariness. Like Lindsey's afraid something is going to happen right now. That everything's going to end in a way that kicks him in the head. Again. That rips him to little pieces. Again.
Gunn lowers his head and catches that blue gaze dead on, and his hands move with purpose so that his fingers can rest along side of Lindsey's neck while his thumbs brush against the corners of his mouth. And below the waist they're both pushing against each other, hips twisting in small, tight circles as they go.
He keeps his eyes steady, confident. Because, damn it, he ain't letting anything get in the way of this, and Lindsey's gotta know that or else he'll hold back. There can't be any holding back. There has to be all of Lindsey here. It's important, but Gunn can't remember why.
Gunn want to taste those whiskey lips again, but he doesn't want to look away from Lindsey. Instead, he slides his right hand forward and his thumb pulls at Lindsey's lips. His left hand travels down, along a strong back, down over a curved ass, then lower. Gunn sets his fingers right under that curve and presses in, and Lindsey's eyes roll back and his leg gives out just a little so that he has to brace himself on the other one.
"Oh, fuck," Lindsey moans, and the sound of a voice startles Gunn just a little before he decides that Lindsey really needs to say more. A lot more. Because that rough, husky voice makes Gunn's hips jerk forward, it's so damn hot to hear.
Lindsey's mouth draws his thumb in, sucking on it not so gently, which makes Gunn shiver and clench his hand tighter at the juncture where Lindsey's hip meets his ass, which makes Lindsey stumble forward in response and suck harder. And it all just flows, every sensation causing another one and bringing it all full circle. The cycle breaks when Lindsey starts working his tongue around Gunn's thumb, and then it doesn't matter that he wants to keep looking at Lindsey, because he's got to kiss him. Now.
It's not soft anymore. It's rough and demanding, but it still ain't awkward. Their tongues rub harder against each other, their mouths open wider, and their heads shift to change the angle, to let them in deeper. Gunn's clenching and relaxing his hand, and Lindsey's grabbing at Gunn's back, and their hips are grinding their cocks together--and it all feels so fucking good that Gunn thinks he just might come in his goddamn pants.
He drags his mouth free and Lindsey makes this sound. It's like a demand and a plea all rolled into one, and it almost has Gunn tossing him to the floor right then and there. But he just sucks in a huge lungful of air, tries to calm down before he loses it entirely and can't make it to the end. Leans his forehead against Lindsey's, and brings his hand to the small of the other man's back.
And maybe he can't remember what the reason for this is, but there is one. A reason why he's in Lindsey's apartment. A reason why Lindsey's got to be *here* completely. But right now it's not about any of that. It's not even just about how good Gunn's feeling. It's about Lindsey. About that wariness.
It doesn't have a place here, and it needs to go.
***
Lindsey's frustrated and grateful that Gunn pulled back. He didn't want to stop. Not ever. Felt like he could have just let go and let his whole world become Gunn, with those dark, intent eyes that made his breath catch, and the hands that made his legs almost go out from under him.
And that's also why he's grateful. Lindsey doesn't want someone to be his whole world, not even for a minute. He's done it before--recently--and all it does is take and take and take until he feels empty and dry inside, and it doesn't give anything back in return.
Gunn's forehead is cool against his, and Lindsey swallows and tries to remember that he barely knows this man. That there's nothing here but the physical. Then Gunn's head lifts and his hand comes up to Lindsey's face and just...strokes him. Just touches his forehead and his cheeks and his lips and chin. Even his goddamn nose. And his brown eyes follow the path of his hand, his mouth parted in a half-smile.
Lindsey blinks and he feels his brows draw together in a frown that Gunn's fingers instantly move to inspect. He doesn't know what's going on here. He doesn't know what Gunn's trying to take from him. Just as he's about to bring it back to what it should be, when he's about to curl his lip and grab the back of Gunn's neck to kiss him with lips and tongue and sharp teeth, Gunn speaks.
"You should see yourself, Linds," he breathes, shaking his head. "Damn. Looks like you're hanging on the edge. Makes your eyes get all dark."
His throat goes dry because something's happened to turn this on its head. To make it impossible for Lindsey to bring it back to anywhere. He swallows again then wets his lips because they've gotten all parched since he can't seem to close his mouth.
Gunn's eyes blaze, and his hips pitch forward. "Fuck, you're going to wind up killing me with that mouth alone, aren't you? That's fine, I'll just have to kill you back somehow."
This isn't what it was supposed to be, and that last part of what Gunn said has Lindsey jerking away. Standing on his own. Gunn's expression doesn't change. His lips stay curled slightly, and his eyes are still looking at Lindsey, like his hands are still touching Lindsey's face. Then they fall lower, and Lindsey knows that Gunn's looking at him. At all of him, all at once.
Lindsey's glaring at him now, and his cock is getting softer with each second. "What's your angle with all this shit, huh?"
"No angle," Gunn says, talking slowly and clearly. "I don't do angles. Got no use for 'em." He grins. "I'd say something about being a straight-shooter, but I don't pun, either."
Nothing in his eyes says anything different than his mouth does, and Lindsey stands there for long moments, blatantly scrutinizing Gunn. Turning around in his head what he's getting off Gunn right now, and what he's read in his file at Wolfram & Hart. And Gunn just stands there patiently, waiting.
He strides to Gunn quickly, and his hand doesn't grab the back of Gunn's neck, it just urges the other man's head down. And his sharp teeth stay out of the way as Gunn's tongue enters his mouth and Lindsey pulls his lips back and sucks on it. There are hands in his hair, tugging at it and tangling in it, and Lindsey isn't soft anymore. Every time he sucks on Gunn's tongue there's a bolt of something white-hot that heads straight to his cock.
And it takes no time at all until they're right back where they were, and this time it's Lindsey that draws back so that they can pant and regroup. For all that Gunn's frame is thinner than Lindsey's, there's something solid there. A steadiness that has his head dropping onto Gunn's shoulder, his nose pressed against Gunn's neck. He takes a deep breath, trying to pull some of that solidity into himself. To scent it and taste it.
There's a light odor of soap, and around the edges the warm, still scent of Gunn--a gentle hint and tang of sweat and musk. Then he's exhaling, because Gunn's hands are on his back, running up and down his spine, and Lindsey feels a heavy shudder slide through him.
Gunn's head tilts so that his cheek is pressed against Lindsey's. "Oh, now this is interesting," he says a little smugly, his hands pressing harder as they go up and down and up again, moving out to cover more terrain.
The shudders come one right after another until Lindsey's shaking, and if he thought Gunn's hands were talented before, now there's not even a word for just how fucking fantastic they're making Lindsey feel. Gunn drags them roughly down again, and pushes at the small of Lindsey's back before moving up and untucking his shirt in the process. Then they're on his skin and Lindsey groans and arches back, shudders still wracking his entire fucking body.
"Guess it won't be hard to kill you back after all," Gunn breathes against Lindsey's ear.
"Damn. You weren't supposed to find out about that."
Gunn laughs. "Glad I did."
His hands keep moving and Lindsey finally has to reach up and push them away because it's too much to take, and Gunn's pleased little smirk vanishes when Lindsey's hand rubs his cock through his jeans.
"*This* is interesting," Lindsey murmurs, lifting his head and watching Gunn's eyes shut. Watching the way his face goes slack and he bites his lip when Lindsey puts pressure against the head of his cock. And Gunn makes the roughest noises at the back of his throat when Lindsey slides his palm down along his shaft, fingers touching his balls briefly before his palm slides up again.
It's great, and hot, and enough to set Lindsey on fire under his skin, but it's not enough because there are clothes blocking every damn inch of their skin and there's no bed in the living room, just a hard floor, and Lindsey's long past the days when it was thrilling to fuck on the floor.
"Come on," he says, taking his hand away. It takes a moment for Gunn to register that Lindsey's not stroking him anymore, and his hips tilt forward two more times before his eyes open.
"What?"
"There's a bed down the hall. It's soft. Not so hard on the joints as a floor."
Gunn's eyes clear. "Getting old, Lawyer Boy?"
Lindsey starts out of the living room. "Nothing to do with age, just comfort." He looks over his shoulder. "Just gonna stay there by yourself?"
At the door to his bedroom, Lindsey pauses. He's not too sure this is a good idea. Not the sex, because that's probably the best idea he's had all year. No, the bedroom. Darla's all over it. She's everywhere in that room and he doesn't want to be distracted by her, doesn't want that twistedness to touch the right now.
But then Gunn is pressed up against his back, his cock rubbing against Lindsey's ass, and his hand is snaking around front to feel Lindsey through his suit pants. And Lindsey isn't worrying about the ghosts in his bedroom because he's too busy trying to figure out how to lean back against Gunn and thrust forward into his hand at the same time. He has to give up deciding anything when Gunn nudges his head to the side and then starts licking at his neck. Broad, firm strokes along the side that make Lindsey's entire body tense and relax at the same time.
Gunn lifts his mouth from Lindsey's neck and his breath falls across Lindsey's ear as he asks, "You got another bedroom in this posh apartment, Linds?"
"Oh, god," Lindsey whispers, that voice sending shivers down his spine. He gestures vaguely to their left. "Over there..."
Gunn doesn't move away at all. His legs nudge against Lindsey's, and they're walking, legs pressed against each other, bodies still touching the whole way down. Gunn's cock still against his ass, Gunn's hand still moving on his cock all slow and steady. Gunn's mouth once again on Lindsey's neck. Oh, and now his other hand is in the game. Running up Lindsey's chest to find a nipple and dragging a blunt nail across it.
"Holy fuck, Gunn," Lindsey gasps, almost falling to the ground. But Gunn's got him, and his legs nudge Lindsey the last two steps to the door of the spare bedroom, and Lindsey fumbles with the doorknob and actually manages to open it.
There isn't a ghost to be seen in the room, but there's a bed and it's all that Lindsey can see.
***
Gunn doesn't think anything feels better than touching someone else, making them get all shaky and lost in good feelings. It's the shit. Like a drug. Makes his body tingle and his cock just throb. Gets him harder and more turned on than a blowjob, truthfully. He's actually come just from bringing someone else off. Back in the day, there wasn't much good around, if any. It ain't about control; it's about making someone else feel *good*. Better than good, even.
There's no question that he's driving Lindsey out of his mind. None at all. He's not just shaking in Gunn's arms, he's shuddering like he's got no control over any of his muscles. Writhing all over the place because Gunn's working him in a few places at once. It's like a drug, and Lindsey's so goddamn responsive that Gunn's higher than a kite right about now.
Oh, yeah, and he keeps thrusting back against Gunn, that sweet ass grinding against his cock. They stand just inside the doorway of the dark bedroom and Lindsey's throat is making all these choked noises, so Gunn eases off. Too much of a good thing is like torture. He turns Lindsey around and starts unbuttoning his shirt. When it parts down the center, Gunn sucks in a breath.
It's a crime, a downright crime, for that chest to be covered up. Because it's the finest looking chest Gunn has ever seen. He slides the shirt off of Lindsey's shoulders slowly, staring at the muscles and the soft looking skin. It's smooth and strong and he's got to touch it.
Lindsey apparently has other ideas. He's busy awkwardly tugging Gunn's shirt up, and there isn't much light in the room, but it seems like he's getting frustrated because he can't manage it easily with one hand. Hell, the boy's got the biggest boatload of issues Gunn's ever seen, and part of him wants to clear out before they start to matter to him.
"Hold up," Gunn says quietly, taking hold of Lindsey's wrist and moving it aside. "Need some light in here. Where's a lamp?"
"On the nightstand," Lindsey answers, his tone clipped.
Gunn walks around the bed and flicks on the light. It's perfect mood lighting. Not bright and harsh, not so dim that Lindsey's hidden in the shadows, though Gunn kind of wishes he was. Lindsey's staring at the floor, his body tilted to the side so that his right hand is hidden. His jaw is clenched and so is his left hand.
It's one thing after another, and he should really clear out, but instead he's going back to Lindsey. Runs his hand down Lindsey's right arm and follows when he tries to pull it away before Gunn gets to his prosthetic.
Gunn pulls Lindsey's hand in between them and raises an eyebrow. "How does this come off?"
Lindsey's looks up at him, his eyes blank, and Gunn watches him steadily. Finally, he reaches over with his other hand and unstraps it, the harsh tearing sound of Velcro crackling in the air. He tries to pull his wrist out of Gunn's grip to slip the prosthetic off, but Gunn brushes him aside and does it himself. Tosses the thing onto a chair in the corner of the room.
Lindsey looks relieved and anxious about the thing being off, and Gunn's done with letting the issues suck everything out of the room, out of *them*. They'll stay because they're part of what he wanted to see. Part of Lindsey. But they're not going to be running things anymore. Period. End of fucking story.
He pulls his shirt off and unbuttons his jeans, leaving the zipper up. Reaches out and pulls Lindsey to him and they both hiss a little at the flesh on flesh. Gunn cups the side of Lindsey's face, tilts it up and they do that kissing from the beginning. Slow and dry and building things up for the hundredth time since Gunn walked in the apartment. For the last time tonight.
Gunn brings his other hand to Lindsey's back, and this time Lindsey's the one who changes the kiss, whose tongue dives into Gunn's mouth all warm and still tasting just a little of whiskey. That back thing is already coming in handy, hell yeah. Easy as pie.
The bed is behind Lindsey, and Gunn opens his eyes so that he can steer them. Walk forward and make Lindsey walk backwards until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. The hand on Lindsey's face moves to his chest and flattens, then pushes him just a little, and Lindsey tips back, catching his weight on his hand at first and then lying on his back. Gunn crawls over him, lips still locked and tongues still swirling and twirling and--goddamn, it's got to be some kind of sin the way Lindsey can use his tongue, a *sin*--and they keep moving until Lindsey's head is resting kind of on a pillow.
Gunn sets a knee between Lindsey's leg, urges them apart, then sinks down. Lindsey thrusts up before Gunn's even touching him, and they bump into each other all solidly. Gunn's head snaps back and he thinks his eyes might be showing all white.
"Jesus, Linds," Gunn groans, gritting his teeth at the pleasure.
"Not fucking sorry," Lindsey mutters back, sighing when Gunn's finally settled against him, bracing himself above Lindsey. "Goddamn, Gunn..."
"Fuck, I know."
They're hard and they're pressed so damn tight against each other that any little movement is like every big movement rolled into one. Lindsey rocks his hips up, and Gunn's arms just about collapse. Gunn finds Lindsey's eyes with his own, locks on again, and rotates his hips and grinds down at the same time.
The sun explodes in Lindsey's eyes. They open real wide, and the pupils get all small and those yellow flecks are all in plain view. Issues? What issues? Ain't nothing here but Gunn and Lindsey now.
Gunn rolls to the side, pulling Lindsey over with him so that they're both laying on their sides. Lindsey's good arm is free, and he runs it along Gunn's chest, around his back, to his ass. It slides under the waistband of his jeans, under his boxers and follows the curve, forcing him closer and tighter against Lindsey's cock.
The only thought in Gunn's head is that the pants have to go. Have to. It's not negotiable. He reaches for Lindsey's fly at the same time that Lindsey's hand leaves his ass and reaches for his. And Gunn's tugging at a button while Lindsey's dragging his zipper down, and then Lindsey's leaning forward to lick at Gunn's collarbone.
Gunn's still struggling to get the damn button undone but Lindsey just had a zipper to deal with and it's already been pulled down, and his hand wraps around the base of Gunn's cock all strong and cool and Gunn gives up trying to figure out the complicated button on Lindsey's pants.
So Gunn's head falls forward and he he grabs Lindsey's shoulder instead, holds on as Lindsey's hand moves up, and it's dry but Lindsey knows what to do. Doesn't try to move his hand along Gunn's cock. Just moves up, then down, then up again. And his grip shifts higher and the palm of his hand is grazing the sensitive head of Gunn's cock on the down stroke.
"Oh, yeah, fuck yeah, oh god," Gunn grunts, thrusting against that hand.
His shoulders are curling in and he'd be twisted up in a fetal position from the sensations but there's no room to do that. He leans his head against Lindsey's shoulder and he wants to kiss that skin, lick it, but it's all he can do to breathe and he might be bruising Lindsey, he's holding his shoulder so tight.
Lindsey doesn't seem to mind. His mouth is still against Gunn's collarbone, his teeth just resting against skin, and his tongue making lazy patterns in time to his pumping fist. Then his grip shifts again and his palm is wet with pre-cum, and Gunn almost screams at the first full, smooth, tight stroke that goes from the very tip of his cock all the way down. And then all the way up again.
It's so fucking good that he can't stop pushing into it, can't stop saying all sorts of words that don't make sense next to each other. Lindsey tightens his hold and Gunn's moving constantly, moving fast, and Lindsey's hand is twisting a little now on the upstroke. Gunn's head thrashes back and Lindsey's hips are pushing against his thigh, and his mouth leaves Gunn's shoulder.
"You gonna come for me, Gunn?" he asks, and that fucking voice of his is almost enough to send Gunn over the edge. All rough and husky, skating along Gunn's nerves, reverberating in his chest like a thumping baseline.
"You gonna come for me?" he asks again, and Gunn knows the answer is, fuck yeah he's gonna come. But not right now, because this isn't how he wants it. He sees how he wants it clear as a bell in his head.
Gunn grabs Lindsey's wrist, pulls his hand away and tries to remember how to breathe.
***
Lindsey moves his hand, but Gunn doesn't let go of his wrist, and he's still holding on when Lindsey brings it to his mouth and licks the taste of Gunn from his palm. He thinks Gunn's eyes cross, but he's not sure because Gunn moves fast and his lips are on Lindsey's a second later.
And it's like Gunn's trying to taste Lindsey tasting Gunn. Or something that actually makes sense, which Lindsey can't really do at the moment because Gunn has pulled back from his mouth and his tongue is curling along the pad of Lindsey's thumb. And if Gunn tasting himself on Lindsey's hand isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen, then he'll trade in his truck for a pretentious black convertible and prance through the alleys of Los Angeles fighting vampires.
Gunn finally lets go of Lindsey's wrist and he pulls his jeans and boxers down, toes off his shoes, then kicks them aside. Lindsey kicks his own shoes off, then looks back at Gunn. He's long...long limbs and torso, all sleek and strong. Lindsey wants to keep looking, but Gunn's reaching for his pants.
Lindsey arches a brow. "Thank you can figure out how to work a button this time?"
"I was being *distracted*," Gunn reminds him, and he undoes the button on the first try. "Couldn't have remembered my own name right about then."
"Yeah? Sorry about that. Won't happen again."
Gunn looks up at him. "You're a little shit, you know that?"
Lindsey shrugs and smiles. "Heard it a time or two."
And the zipper is down and Gunn tugs Lindsey's pants and boxers down at the same time, flinging them somewhere on the other side of the room. Lindsey shifts his feet, toes his socks off because there's something horribly tacky about being naked except for socks. Gunn just leans down and yanks his off, and Lindsey doesn't see where they land. Doesn't care, either.
Gunn comes back up to Lindsey, settles on his side again, and there's this frozen moment where they just lay there, naked, facing each other. Lindsey's breath starts getting shallow, and Gunn's eyes get darker and deeper, and then Gunn's hand is on his hip, and the next moment they're flush against each other, nothing at all between them.
Lindsey's teeth snap together and his jaw clenches, and he lets out a hissed exhalation, because they're cocks are pressed together, rubbing against each other, and it feels so fucking good.
"Yeah," Gunn grunts. "Oh, yeah."
It's confused at first, both of them just shoving forward, and then they fall into a rhythm of thrusts that don't make them break contact at all, that presses their cocks against their abdomens and against each other.
Lindsey's head is getting filled with white noise that sounds like rushing blood and his vision is getting spotty. Gunn's mouth finds his again and their tongues naturally mimic what's going on below their wastes, and Gunn's hand slides down Lindsey's hip. Hooks behind his knee and draws Lindsey's leg to him so that it's draped over Gunn's hip. Pulls Lindsey in and they're even closer than before and he didn't think it was possible to get any closer, but they are. Closer and tighter and Lindsey thinks he might just lose his goddamn mind to this.
Air is a problem. Lindsey can't get enough and his mouth slides over Gunn's, shifting to the side so he can suck in a breath, and they're not kissing anymore, just trying to find air, just trying to breathe. Lindsey tightens his leg around Gunn's hip. Presses the heel of his foot against Gunn's ass to get him even closer, even though it's impossible now.
Gunn proves him wrong again. He takes hold of Lindsey's thigh, moves it up higher, then he raises his own leg, bends it at the knee and shifts towards Lindsey so that he's at an angle. Lindsey's leg convulses, clenches as hard as it can so that he doesn't lose this full on contact that's more than he thought it could be. More and harder and closer.
Lindsey opens his mouth, kisses Gunn again, and there's nothing controlled about it this time. It's some kind of chaotic mess that has the white noise in Lindsey's head exploding and spreading.
He feels Gunn's hand traveling back down his thigh, over his hip and down. And it's moving slowly, like Gunn's asking for permission, and Lindsey realizes that he's doing just that when his fingers drift down just a bit. Lindsey jerks, his movements getting uncontrolled. Yes, yes, fuck yes, yes. He's not sure if he actually says it, and if he does, he's not sure how Gunn understands because they're still kissing. But Gunn gets it anyway, and then there are fingers between their lips, and they're kissing each other through and around those two fingers.
There are words, a lot of words, but Lindsey doesn't know what he's saying, and Gunn's words stay in his head only a second before they get lost in the white noise and maybe he'd try to make them stay longer, but the fingers are leaving his mouth and are at his ass again.
Gunn pulls back, stares down at Lindsey and slips a finger in, and Lindsey forces himself to relax, bears down a little, and holy god, even Gunn's *fingers* are long and there's no way he's going to be even a little bit sane when this is over. Their hips are still rocking and grinding, and Gunn keeps his finger still for a few moments while he tries to catch the rhythm.
When Lindsey jerks forward to thrust his cock against Gunn's, the finger slides out, and when Lindsey shifts back, the finger slides in. There's no escape from the sensation, no safe harbor. It's there no matter where he goes and the white noise becomes visible, like snow on a television, and it takes over his field of vision when Gunn slips another finger in and then crooks them.
All he can do is move, back and forth, fast and frantic, his hand clawing at Gunn's back. Just move and move and move--
"--or I'll stop."
Stop. No. No. Lindsey forces the snow and noise away, blinks and tries to focus.
"Look at me, Linds. Look at me."
He's biting into Gunn's shoulder, and he doesn't remember when that happened. Let's go slowly and his head falls back. He's gasping and moving and Gunn's staring at him.
"You want another?" Gunn asks, and Lindsey starts shaking. Shaking and moving and yes, he wants another. He hears himself say it this time, hears the way his voice is faint because even though he keeps sucking in air, he still feels like he's not breathing.
"Easy," Gunn says softly. "Try to hold still for me."
Still. No. He can't do still. He can't. There's too much to feel, there's too much in front of him and behind him and he's got to keep moving because he's got to feel it. Somehow Gunn manages. Manages to work a third finger in, and it's tight, and that one wasn't at their mouths, and Lindsey hasn't messed around with another guy in two years, and he's full. Just full.
He can't move as fast, but...but that's fine, because he's full and when he moves slower then Gunn's fingers stay pressed against his prostate longer, and his cock rubs against Gunn's a little bit more.
His breaths are deeper now, and Gunn's wrangled his other arm free and Lindsey lifts his head so that it can move under his neck. Gunn never looks away from Lindsey's eyes, and Lindsey finds he can't look anywhere else either. And he's so full and so fucking close that he's shaking again. Fine deep tremors that ripple down him. So. Damn. Close.
Gunn changes the angle of the arm that Lindsey's head is resting on so that he can bend it at the elbow. His hand presses at the center of Lindsey's back and then it *moves*, hard and slow, just like everything else. Goes right up the center of Lindsey's back.
"You're gonna come for me, Linds," Gunn says, his voice deep and tense.
"Yes, yes, yes," Lindsey mumbles. How the fuck could he not? Gunn's pumping his fingers in and out of Lindsey's ass, and he's *touching* Lindsey's back, and he's twisting his hips in tight little circles, and Lindsey's going to fucking explode any minute now.
It's building slow and steady and full, and Lindsey's just riding it. Waiting for it to happen. Then Gunn changes everything. Doesn't let Lindsey shift back after he thrusts forward. Pushes his fingers that much deeper in. Keeps Lindsey still with the hand on his back. But Gunn's hips, they keep moving. He keeps rubbing his cock against Lindsey's, and his fingers are right in that perfect spot, and Lindsey snaps.
Slams his hips backwards and forwards, and Gunn's not moving his fingers out, just letting Lindsey leave and then pushing hard and deep when he comes back.
Gunn's lips pull back from his teeth. "Yeah, that's it, Linds."
The faintest thought tries to make its way in. Something about the fact that he hates being called Linds. Doesn't let anyone do it. Refuses to answer to it. But it's gone before it ever really gets there.
"Come for me, Linds. Come."
And he's so close, so close, everything's pulling together somewhere at his center. It's dense and taut and it wraps around itself over and over again, getting denser and smaller, and then Gunn's hand drags up Lindsey's back, pressed against it so hard and tight that Lindsey's skin burns with the friction.
The last bit of everything wraps around itself and his balls get tight, and then it all lets go, and Lindsey shoves against Gunn's cock and comes and comes, and it keeps crashing over him even when he's done, because Gunn hasn't stopped anything.
He's still thrusting his hips and his fingers, but it's frenzied now, like he's been holding back all this time. Gunn's cock keeps grinding against his, and every time it brushes against the head, Lindsey convulses and twitches, and it has to end because it's too much and it's about to stop feeling good, but the hand on his back moves to his hair, holding tight, and Lindsey's going insane. Gunn won't look away, won't let him look away. Just keeps thrusting into and against Lindsey, pressing harder to get friction, and Lindsey separates from his skin.
His eyes get wide and he thinks they probably look wild and crazed, and Gunn just tenses up, like everything is coiling in him, and he pushes himself once, twice more and then he freezes. His back arches and his mouth opens, and for a split second there's utter stillness, and then his face draws in, and he's coming all over Lindsey's stomach, and he's making a choked scream at the back of his throat that comes out deep and primal. His muscles are straining and cording at his neck, and his head is thrown back. Lindsey doesn't want to blink because he doesn't want to miss it.
He watches Gunn's muscles all let go at once, sees him collapse without collapsing, looks at the frantic rise and fall of his chest. Gunn's fingers slide out of him and Lindsey's leg falls to the bed, landing awkwardly, and he wants to move it, but he can't. He can't move anything. Can only lie there and watch Gunn's hand come to his face to brush against his brow.
"Saw you," Gunn tells him.
.End
Next Story in Series - The Thin Red Line
Series Listing in Memories here.
Series: Smoke and Mirrors #2
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Gunn/Lindsey
Spoilers/Timeline: S2 post-Redefinition
Summary: What happens in Lindsey's apartment?
*
Gunn's not sure if what he's doing qualifies as stupid, but he doesn't think so. He's gone on instinct most of his life, and his gut is just pulling and tugging him along.
Where isn't really all that clear yet. Right now it's getting in the elevator to go up to Lindsey's apartment. Lindsey hits the floor button about eight times in two seconds and Gunn takes hold of his wrist and pulls his hand away from the buttons.
Lindsey starts like someone's just snuck up behind him and screamed "Boo", and his eyes fly to Gunn's.
Gunn is the aficionado of brown eyes. Seen them in every shade and hue. Been locked just like this with dozens of them in male and female bodies. Brown eyes, Gunn knows from experience, are soft, even when they're hard. They absorb. Take things in and soak them up. Lindsey's blue eyes are something alien. They're too clear and bright to actually soak anything up. It's like everything Gunn's sending out just bounces back and hits him right in the chest.
There are tiny bits of yellow around Lindsey's pupil, like sparks of the sun in a summer sky--and, *day-um*, that sounds so very girly. But the thought stays. Lindsey's eyes are as crisp and unknowable as the sky. It makes Gunn want to stare and stare until he can see past the surface. Until what's hitting him right in the chest isn't just what he's sending out. Until he actually gets to *Lindsey*, because that's what he wants to see. He wants to see the man in the eyes. Wants to see if that man looks anything like him.
Gunn's still holding Lindsey's wrist and they're climbing higher in the building, the ascent making Gunn feel leaden. Lindsey's gaze is searching for Gunn's motives, looking for the shank that he thinks is going to get rammed into his gut when he least expects it. Gunn wonders if Lindsey only functions at extremes--total or no trust. Gives someone everything or nothing.
He rubs his thumb along the pad of Lindsey's thumb and gets a little clenching in his stomach at the sensation, at the feel of Lindsey's pulse throbbing just under the skin. He smiles at Lindsey when the elevator stops and releases the other man's hand with a lingering touch that has Lindsey sucking in a breath.
The doors open and Lindsey blinks once then steps out. Gunn follows him down a short hall that's nicer than his apartment. Damn. Get him a fridge and a television and he could live in the hallway. Sleep right on that nifty sofa in the open area next to the elevator banks.
Lindsey opens his door and Gunn steps into the apartment behind him. The place is swank and Gunn has the urge to wipe his feet and tuck his hands in his pockets. Lindsey stalks right to a chair and strips his suit jacket off, tossing it aside and rifling his hand through his hair.
Gunn watches the other man fidget and is kind of awed. It's like there's electricity crackling under Lindsey's skin, the way he can't be still. He wants to go over there and give Lindsey a reason to be moving around like something's itching under his skin. But he made his intent clear in the elevator, and it's up to Lindsey now.
Up to Lindsey to make a move if he wants something to happen. Gunn thinks he does, otherwise he wouldn't have been invited up. As for why...he's got no clue about what made Lindsey invite him up. Just like Lindsey's probably got no idea why he agreed to come up.
A little smile curls at Lindsey's mouth and his lids are kind of lowered. Gunn feels the palms of his hands throb and tingle. Yeah, there's a reason for this, but that don't mean there isn't anything else. Because Lindsey sexier than all get out. He's got that pouty mouth and the broad chest, and some kind of overall sultry thing going. Yeah, sultry. Like a hot summer day, with porches and lemonade--what the *hell* is Lindsey bringing out in him? Because he's not digging this flowery shit.
Oh, but he is digging the fact that Lindsey has moved. *Is* moving. Closer. Towards Gunn. He stops less than a foot away, and Gunn looks down at him. Something like a minute goes by, Lindsey twitching and shifting the entire time.
"Got anything to drink up in here?" Gunn asks with a smirk.
Lindsey makes an irritated noise. "I didn't invite you up here for a damn drink!"
Gunn chuckles a little, then moves closer until there's only an inch or so between them. "No? Then what did you ask me up for?"
If Gunn were to take a deep breath, his chest would brush against Lindsey's, they're that close. But he keeps his breathing easy, waits while Lindsey's eyes go wide for a long moment, then narrow. Gunn lowers his head when Lindsey lifts his, and a lot of first kisses are awkward, in Gunn's experience, but this one isn't because they take their time at first, go slow and easy.
Lindsey's lips settle over his, mostly closed. They just kind of slot perfectly against Gunn's and rest there, and Gunn's eyes drift shut as he brings a hand to the back of Lindsey's neck, fingers brushing against his hair. He feels Lindsey's mouth move and he mimics the motion, their lips opening and closing against each other.
Gunn presses the heel of his hand against the nape of Lindsey's neck, then drags it up so that his fingers can tangle in that blondish brown hair. His tongue slips out, and he slides it along Lindsey's lower lip. Lindsey's mouth parts some more, and he takes in a short breath. Then his hands reach for Gunn. The right one just sits at his waist, but the left takes hold of his waistband and pulls him closer, then moves up and settles high on Gunn's side.
There's the taste of whiskey on Lindsey's lip, and it's kind of sweet and warm. Tastes better than whiskey alone does, so Gunn goes back for more. Uses the hand on Lindsey's head to tip his head back, and his tongue is wide and lazy as it laps at Lindsey's lower lip. He wonders if he can get drunk on that taste, and then he stops thinking, because Lindsey's tongue eases out of his mouth and catches Gunn's.
And it's all relaxed and so damn slow that it makes Gunn feel heavy and weighed down. Their mouths widen and their tongues are moving against each other in long, slow strokes and Gunn's been half hard since he was staring at Lindsey across the room, and now his cock is hard and throbbing.
He brings a hand to Lindsey's waist and pulls him that list inch in, and they both have to lift their heads to take a breath that's more like a gasp. Lindsey's panting, staring up at Gunn with glittering eyes, and there's not so much getting reflected back at Gunn anymore, and there's more of Lindsey there.
Gunn braces Lindsey with his hand, then rubs against him. And there's a height difference, but not so much that the effort is wasted. Oh, hell no, it's not wasted. Lindsey's hard, and it's a sliver of ecstatic pleasure, coming up against it.
It's like a shield falls away from Lindsey's eyes at the contact, and suddenly Gunn sees everything and he realizes that brown eyes absorb, but blue eyes *send*. He's getting everything from Lindsey. Getting the need and the desire. Getting everything raw, like it doesn't get softened on its way out.
And in the middle of it all is wariness. Like Lindsey's afraid something is going to happen right now. That everything's going to end in a way that kicks him in the head. Again. That rips him to little pieces. Again.
Gunn lowers his head and catches that blue gaze dead on, and his hands move with purpose so that his fingers can rest along side of Lindsey's neck while his thumbs brush against the corners of his mouth. And below the waist they're both pushing against each other, hips twisting in small, tight circles as they go.
He keeps his eyes steady, confident. Because, damn it, he ain't letting anything get in the way of this, and Lindsey's gotta know that or else he'll hold back. There can't be any holding back. There has to be all of Lindsey here. It's important, but Gunn can't remember why.
Gunn want to taste those whiskey lips again, but he doesn't want to look away from Lindsey. Instead, he slides his right hand forward and his thumb pulls at Lindsey's lips. His left hand travels down, along a strong back, down over a curved ass, then lower. Gunn sets his fingers right under that curve and presses in, and Lindsey's eyes roll back and his leg gives out just a little so that he has to brace himself on the other one.
"Oh, fuck," Lindsey moans, and the sound of a voice startles Gunn just a little before he decides that Lindsey really needs to say more. A lot more. Because that rough, husky voice makes Gunn's hips jerk forward, it's so damn hot to hear.
Lindsey's mouth draws his thumb in, sucking on it not so gently, which makes Gunn shiver and clench his hand tighter at the juncture where Lindsey's hip meets his ass, which makes Lindsey stumble forward in response and suck harder. And it all just flows, every sensation causing another one and bringing it all full circle. The cycle breaks when Lindsey starts working his tongue around Gunn's thumb, and then it doesn't matter that he wants to keep looking at Lindsey, because he's got to kiss him. Now.
It's not soft anymore. It's rough and demanding, but it still ain't awkward. Their tongues rub harder against each other, their mouths open wider, and their heads shift to change the angle, to let them in deeper. Gunn's clenching and relaxing his hand, and Lindsey's grabbing at Gunn's back, and their hips are grinding their cocks together--and it all feels so fucking good that Gunn thinks he just might come in his goddamn pants.
He drags his mouth free and Lindsey makes this sound. It's like a demand and a plea all rolled into one, and it almost has Gunn tossing him to the floor right then and there. But he just sucks in a huge lungful of air, tries to calm down before he loses it entirely and can't make it to the end. Leans his forehead against Lindsey's, and brings his hand to the small of the other man's back.
And maybe he can't remember what the reason for this is, but there is one. A reason why he's in Lindsey's apartment. A reason why Lindsey's got to be *here* completely. But right now it's not about any of that. It's not even just about how good Gunn's feeling. It's about Lindsey. About that wariness.
It doesn't have a place here, and it needs to go.
***
Lindsey's frustrated and grateful that Gunn pulled back. He didn't want to stop. Not ever. Felt like he could have just let go and let his whole world become Gunn, with those dark, intent eyes that made his breath catch, and the hands that made his legs almost go out from under him.
And that's also why he's grateful. Lindsey doesn't want someone to be his whole world, not even for a minute. He's done it before--recently--and all it does is take and take and take until he feels empty and dry inside, and it doesn't give anything back in return.
Gunn's forehead is cool against his, and Lindsey swallows and tries to remember that he barely knows this man. That there's nothing here but the physical. Then Gunn's head lifts and his hand comes up to Lindsey's face and just...strokes him. Just touches his forehead and his cheeks and his lips and chin. Even his goddamn nose. And his brown eyes follow the path of his hand, his mouth parted in a half-smile.
Lindsey blinks and he feels his brows draw together in a frown that Gunn's fingers instantly move to inspect. He doesn't know what's going on here. He doesn't know what Gunn's trying to take from him. Just as he's about to bring it back to what it should be, when he's about to curl his lip and grab the back of Gunn's neck to kiss him with lips and tongue and sharp teeth, Gunn speaks.
"You should see yourself, Linds," he breathes, shaking his head. "Damn. Looks like you're hanging on the edge. Makes your eyes get all dark."
His throat goes dry because something's happened to turn this on its head. To make it impossible for Lindsey to bring it back to anywhere. He swallows again then wets his lips because they've gotten all parched since he can't seem to close his mouth.
Gunn's eyes blaze, and his hips pitch forward. "Fuck, you're going to wind up killing me with that mouth alone, aren't you? That's fine, I'll just have to kill you back somehow."
This isn't what it was supposed to be, and that last part of what Gunn said has Lindsey jerking away. Standing on his own. Gunn's expression doesn't change. His lips stay curled slightly, and his eyes are still looking at Lindsey, like his hands are still touching Lindsey's face. Then they fall lower, and Lindsey knows that Gunn's looking at him. At all of him, all at once.
Lindsey's glaring at him now, and his cock is getting softer with each second. "What's your angle with all this shit, huh?"
"No angle," Gunn says, talking slowly and clearly. "I don't do angles. Got no use for 'em." He grins. "I'd say something about being a straight-shooter, but I don't pun, either."
Nothing in his eyes says anything different than his mouth does, and Lindsey stands there for long moments, blatantly scrutinizing Gunn. Turning around in his head what he's getting off Gunn right now, and what he's read in his file at Wolfram & Hart. And Gunn just stands there patiently, waiting.
He strides to Gunn quickly, and his hand doesn't grab the back of Gunn's neck, it just urges the other man's head down. And his sharp teeth stay out of the way as Gunn's tongue enters his mouth and Lindsey pulls his lips back and sucks on it. There are hands in his hair, tugging at it and tangling in it, and Lindsey isn't soft anymore. Every time he sucks on Gunn's tongue there's a bolt of something white-hot that heads straight to his cock.
And it takes no time at all until they're right back where they were, and this time it's Lindsey that draws back so that they can pant and regroup. For all that Gunn's frame is thinner than Lindsey's, there's something solid there. A steadiness that has his head dropping onto Gunn's shoulder, his nose pressed against Gunn's neck. He takes a deep breath, trying to pull some of that solidity into himself. To scent it and taste it.
There's a light odor of soap, and around the edges the warm, still scent of Gunn--a gentle hint and tang of sweat and musk. Then he's exhaling, because Gunn's hands are on his back, running up and down his spine, and Lindsey feels a heavy shudder slide through him.
Gunn's head tilts so that his cheek is pressed against Lindsey's. "Oh, now this is interesting," he says a little smugly, his hands pressing harder as they go up and down and up again, moving out to cover more terrain.
The shudders come one right after another until Lindsey's shaking, and if he thought Gunn's hands were talented before, now there's not even a word for just how fucking fantastic they're making Lindsey feel. Gunn drags them roughly down again, and pushes at the small of Lindsey's back before moving up and untucking his shirt in the process. Then they're on his skin and Lindsey groans and arches back, shudders still wracking his entire fucking body.
"Guess it won't be hard to kill you back after all," Gunn breathes against Lindsey's ear.
"Damn. You weren't supposed to find out about that."
Gunn laughs. "Glad I did."
His hands keep moving and Lindsey finally has to reach up and push them away because it's too much to take, and Gunn's pleased little smirk vanishes when Lindsey's hand rubs his cock through his jeans.
"*This* is interesting," Lindsey murmurs, lifting his head and watching Gunn's eyes shut. Watching the way his face goes slack and he bites his lip when Lindsey puts pressure against the head of his cock. And Gunn makes the roughest noises at the back of his throat when Lindsey slides his palm down along his shaft, fingers touching his balls briefly before his palm slides up again.
It's great, and hot, and enough to set Lindsey on fire under his skin, but it's not enough because there are clothes blocking every damn inch of their skin and there's no bed in the living room, just a hard floor, and Lindsey's long past the days when it was thrilling to fuck on the floor.
"Come on," he says, taking his hand away. It takes a moment for Gunn to register that Lindsey's not stroking him anymore, and his hips tilt forward two more times before his eyes open.
"What?"
"There's a bed down the hall. It's soft. Not so hard on the joints as a floor."
Gunn's eyes clear. "Getting old, Lawyer Boy?"
Lindsey starts out of the living room. "Nothing to do with age, just comfort." He looks over his shoulder. "Just gonna stay there by yourself?"
At the door to his bedroom, Lindsey pauses. He's not too sure this is a good idea. Not the sex, because that's probably the best idea he's had all year. No, the bedroom. Darla's all over it. She's everywhere in that room and he doesn't want to be distracted by her, doesn't want that twistedness to touch the right now.
But then Gunn is pressed up against his back, his cock rubbing against Lindsey's ass, and his hand is snaking around front to feel Lindsey through his suit pants. And Lindsey isn't worrying about the ghosts in his bedroom because he's too busy trying to figure out how to lean back against Gunn and thrust forward into his hand at the same time. He has to give up deciding anything when Gunn nudges his head to the side and then starts licking at his neck. Broad, firm strokes along the side that make Lindsey's entire body tense and relax at the same time.
Gunn lifts his mouth from Lindsey's neck and his breath falls across Lindsey's ear as he asks, "You got another bedroom in this posh apartment, Linds?"
"Oh, god," Lindsey whispers, that voice sending shivers down his spine. He gestures vaguely to their left. "Over there..."
Gunn doesn't move away at all. His legs nudge against Lindsey's, and they're walking, legs pressed against each other, bodies still touching the whole way down. Gunn's cock still against his ass, Gunn's hand still moving on his cock all slow and steady. Gunn's mouth once again on Lindsey's neck. Oh, and now his other hand is in the game. Running up Lindsey's chest to find a nipple and dragging a blunt nail across it.
"Holy fuck, Gunn," Lindsey gasps, almost falling to the ground. But Gunn's got him, and his legs nudge Lindsey the last two steps to the door of the spare bedroom, and Lindsey fumbles with the doorknob and actually manages to open it.
There isn't a ghost to be seen in the room, but there's a bed and it's all that Lindsey can see.
***
Gunn doesn't think anything feels better than touching someone else, making them get all shaky and lost in good feelings. It's the shit. Like a drug. Makes his body tingle and his cock just throb. Gets him harder and more turned on than a blowjob, truthfully. He's actually come just from bringing someone else off. Back in the day, there wasn't much good around, if any. It ain't about control; it's about making someone else feel *good*. Better than good, even.
There's no question that he's driving Lindsey out of his mind. None at all. He's not just shaking in Gunn's arms, he's shuddering like he's got no control over any of his muscles. Writhing all over the place because Gunn's working him in a few places at once. It's like a drug, and Lindsey's so goddamn responsive that Gunn's higher than a kite right about now.
Oh, yeah, and he keeps thrusting back against Gunn, that sweet ass grinding against his cock. They stand just inside the doorway of the dark bedroom and Lindsey's throat is making all these choked noises, so Gunn eases off. Too much of a good thing is like torture. He turns Lindsey around and starts unbuttoning his shirt. When it parts down the center, Gunn sucks in a breath.
It's a crime, a downright crime, for that chest to be covered up. Because it's the finest looking chest Gunn has ever seen. He slides the shirt off of Lindsey's shoulders slowly, staring at the muscles and the soft looking skin. It's smooth and strong and he's got to touch it.
Lindsey apparently has other ideas. He's busy awkwardly tugging Gunn's shirt up, and there isn't much light in the room, but it seems like he's getting frustrated because he can't manage it easily with one hand. Hell, the boy's got the biggest boatload of issues Gunn's ever seen, and part of him wants to clear out before they start to matter to him.
"Hold up," Gunn says quietly, taking hold of Lindsey's wrist and moving it aside. "Need some light in here. Where's a lamp?"
"On the nightstand," Lindsey answers, his tone clipped.
Gunn walks around the bed and flicks on the light. It's perfect mood lighting. Not bright and harsh, not so dim that Lindsey's hidden in the shadows, though Gunn kind of wishes he was. Lindsey's staring at the floor, his body tilted to the side so that his right hand is hidden. His jaw is clenched and so is his left hand.
It's one thing after another, and he should really clear out, but instead he's going back to Lindsey. Runs his hand down Lindsey's right arm and follows when he tries to pull it away before Gunn gets to his prosthetic.
Gunn pulls Lindsey's hand in between them and raises an eyebrow. "How does this come off?"
Lindsey's looks up at him, his eyes blank, and Gunn watches him steadily. Finally, he reaches over with his other hand and unstraps it, the harsh tearing sound of Velcro crackling in the air. He tries to pull his wrist out of Gunn's grip to slip the prosthetic off, but Gunn brushes him aside and does it himself. Tosses the thing onto a chair in the corner of the room.
Lindsey looks relieved and anxious about the thing being off, and Gunn's done with letting the issues suck everything out of the room, out of *them*. They'll stay because they're part of what he wanted to see. Part of Lindsey. But they're not going to be running things anymore. Period. End of fucking story.
He pulls his shirt off and unbuttons his jeans, leaving the zipper up. Reaches out and pulls Lindsey to him and they both hiss a little at the flesh on flesh. Gunn cups the side of Lindsey's face, tilts it up and they do that kissing from the beginning. Slow and dry and building things up for the hundredth time since Gunn walked in the apartment. For the last time tonight.
Gunn brings his other hand to Lindsey's back, and this time Lindsey's the one who changes the kiss, whose tongue dives into Gunn's mouth all warm and still tasting just a little of whiskey. That back thing is already coming in handy, hell yeah. Easy as pie.
The bed is behind Lindsey, and Gunn opens his eyes so that he can steer them. Walk forward and make Lindsey walk backwards until the backs of his knees hit the mattress. The hand on Lindsey's face moves to his chest and flattens, then pushes him just a little, and Lindsey tips back, catching his weight on his hand at first and then lying on his back. Gunn crawls over him, lips still locked and tongues still swirling and twirling and--goddamn, it's got to be some kind of sin the way Lindsey can use his tongue, a *sin*--and they keep moving until Lindsey's head is resting kind of on a pillow.
Gunn sets a knee between Lindsey's leg, urges them apart, then sinks down. Lindsey thrusts up before Gunn's even touching him, and they bump into each other all solidly. Gunn's head snaps back and he thinks his eyes might be showing all white.
"Jesus, Linds," Gunn groans, gritting his teeth at the pleasure.
"Not fucking sorry," Lindsey mutters back, sighing when Gunn's finally settled against him, bracing himself above Lindsey. "Goddamn, Gunn..."
"Fuck, I know."
They're hard and they're pressed so damn tight against each other that any little movement is like every big movement rolled into one. Lindsey rocks his hips up, and Gunn's arms just about collapse. Gunn finds Lindsey's eyes with his own, locks on again, and rotates his hips and grinds down at the same time.
The sun explodes in Lindsey's eyes. They open real wide, and the pupils get all small and those yellow flecks are all in plain view. Issues? What issues? Ain't nothing here but Gunn and Lindsey now.
Gunn rolls to the side, pulling Lindsey over with him so that they're both laying on their sides. Lindsey's good arm is free, and he runs it along Gunn's chest, around his back, to his ass. It slides under the waistband of his jeans, under his boxers and follows the curve, forcing him closer and tighter against Lindsey's cock.
The only thought in Gunn's head is that the pants have to go. Have to. It's not negotiable. He reaches for Lindsey's fly at the same time that Lindsey's hand leaves his ass and reaches for his. And Gunn's tugging at a button while Lindsey's dragging his zipper down, and then Lindsey's leaning forward to lick at Gunn's collarbone.
Gunn's still struggling to get the damn button undone but Lindsey just had a zipper to deal with and it's already been pulled down, and his hand wraps around the base of Gunn's cock all strong and cool and Gunn gives up trying to figure out the complicated button on Lindsey's pants.
So Gunn's head falls forward and he he grabs Lindsey's shoulder instead, holds on as Lindsey's hand moves up, and it's dry but Lindsey knows what to do. Doesn't try to move his hand along Gunn's cock. Just moves up, then down, then up again. And his grip shifts higher and the palm of his hand is grazing the sensitive head of Gunn's cock on the down stroke.
"Oh, yeah, fuck yeah, oh god," Gunn grunts, thrusting against that hand.
His shoulders are curling in and he'd be twisted up in a fetal position from the sensations but there's no room to do that. He leans his head against Lindsey's shoulder and he wants to kiss that skin, lick it, but it's all he can do to breathe and he might be bruising Lindsey, he's holding his shoulder so tight.
Lindsey doesn't seem to mind. His mouth is still against Gunn's collarbone, his teeth just resting against skin, and his tongue making lazy patterns in time to his pumping fist. Then his grip shifts again and his palm is wet with pre-cum, and Gunn almost screams at the first full, smooth, tight stroke that goes from the very tip of his cock all the way down. And then all the way up again.
It's so fucking good that he can't stop pushing into it, can't stop saying all sorts of words that don't make sense next to each other. Lindsey tightens his hold and Gunn's moving constantly, moving fast, and Lindsey's hand is twisting a little now on the upstroke. Gunn's head thrashes back and Lindsey's hips are pushing against his thigh, and his mouth leaves Gunn's shoulder.
"You gonna come for me, Gunn?" he asks, and that fucking voice of his is almost enough to send Gunn over the edge. All rough and husky, skating along Gunn's nerves, reverberating in his chest like a thumping baseline.
"You gonna come for me?" he asks again, and Gunn knows the answer is, fuck yeah he's gonna come. But not right now, because this isn't how he wants it. He sees how he wants it clear as a bell in his head.
Gunn grabs Lindsey's wrist, pulls his hand away and tries to remember how to breathe.
***
Lindsey moves his hand, but Gunn doesn't let go of his wrist, and he's still holding on when Lindsey brings it to his mouth and licks the taste of Gunn from his palm. He thinks Gunn's eyes cross, but he's not sure because Gunn moves fast and his lips are on Lindsey's a second later.
And it's like Gunn's trying to taste Lindsey tasting Gunn. Or something that actually makes sense, which Lindsey can't really do at the moment because Gunn has pulled back from his mouth and his tongue is curling along the pad of Lindsey's thumb. And if Gunn tasting himself on Lindsey's hand isn't the hottest thing he's ever seen, then he'll trade in his truck for a pretentious black convertible and prance through the alleys of Los Angeles fighting vampires.
Gunn finally lets go of Lindsey's wrist and he pulls his jeans and boxers down, toes off his shoes, then kicks them aside. Lindsey kicks his own shoes off, then looks back at Gunn. He's long...long limbs and torso, all sleek and strong. Lindsey wants to keep looking, but Gunn's reaching for his pants.
Lindsey arches a brow. "Thank you can figure out how to work a button this time?"
"I was being *distracted*," Gunn reminds him, and he undoes the button on the first try. "Couldn't have remembered my own name right about then."
"Yeah? Sorry about that. Won't happen again."
Gunn looks up at him. "You're a little shit, you know that?"
Lindsey shrugs and smiles. "Heard it a time or two."
And the zipper is down and Gunn tugs Lindsey's pants and boxers down at the same time, flinging them somewhere on the other side of the room. Lindsey shifts his feet, toes his socks off because there's something horribly tacky about being naked except for socks. Gunn just leans down and yanks his off, and Lindsey doesn't see where they land. Doesn't care, either.
Gunn comes back up to Lindsey, settles on his side again, and there's this frozen moment where they just lay there, naked, facing each other. Lindsey's breath starts getting shallow, and Gunn's eyes get darker and deeper, and then Gunn's hand is on his hip, and the next moment they're flush against each other, nothing at all between them.
Lindsey's teeth snap together and his jaw clenches, and he lets out a hissed exhalation, because they're cocks are pressed together, rubbing against each other, and it feels so fucking good.
"Yeah," Gunn grunts. "Oh, yeah."
It's confused at first, both of them just shoving forward, and then they fall into a rhythm of thrusts that don't make them break contact at all, that presses their cocks against their abdomens and against each other.
Lindsey's head is getting filled with white noise that sounds like rushing blood and his vision is getting spotty. Gunn's mouth finds his again and their tongues naturally mimic what's going on below their wastes, and Gunn's hand slides down Lindsey's hip. Hooks behind his knee and draws Lindsey's leg to him so that it's draped over Gunn's hip. Pulls Lindsey in and they're even closer than before and he didn't think it was possible to get any closer, but they are. Closer and tighter and Lindsey thinks he might just lose his goddamn mind to this.
Air is a problem. Lindsey can't get enough and his mouth slides over Gunn's, shifting to the side so he can suck in a breath, and they're not kissing anymore, just trying to find air, just trying to breathe. Lindsey tightens his leg around Gunn's hip. Presses the heel of his foot against Gunn's ass to get him even closer, even though it's impossible now.
Gunn proves him wrong again. He takes hold of Lindsey's thigh, moves it up higher, then he raises his own leg, bends it at the knee and shifts towards Lindsey so that he's at an angle. Lindsey's leg convulses, clenches as hard as it can so that he doesn't lose this full on contact that's more than he thought it could be. More and harder and closer.
Lindsey opens his mouth, kisses Gunn again, and there's nothing controlled about it this time. It's some kind of chaotic mess that has the white noise in Lindsey's head exploding and spreading.
He feels Gunn's hand traveling back down his thigh, over his hip and down. And it's moving slowly, like Gunn's asking for permission, and Lindsey realizes that he's doing just that when his fingers drift down just a bit. Lindsey jerks, his movements getting uncontrolled. Yes, yes, fuck yes, yes. He's not sure if he actually says it, and if he does, he's not sure how Gunn understands because they're still kissing. But Gunn gets it anyway, and then there are fingers between their lips, and they're kissing each other through and around those two fingers.
There are words, a lot of words, but Lindsey doesn't know what he's saying, and Gunn's words stay in his head only a second before they get lost in the white noise and maybe he'd try to make them stay longer, but the fingers are leaving his mouth and are at his ass again.
Gunn pulls back, stares down at Lindsey and slips a finger in, and Lindsey forces himself to relax, bears down a little, and holy god, even Gunn's *fingers* are long and there's no way he's going to be even a little bit sane when this is over. Their hips are still rocking and grinding, and Gunn keeps his finger still for a few moments while he tries to catch the rhythm.
When Lindsey jerks forward to thrust his cock against Gunn's, the finger slides out, and when Lindsey shifts back, the finger slides in. There's no escape from the sensation, no safe harbor. It's there no matter where he goes and the white noise becomes visible, like snow on a television, and it takes over his field of vision when Gunn slips another finger in and then crooks them.
All he can do is move, back and forth, fast and frantic, his hand clawing at Gunn's back. Just move and move and move--
"--or I'll stop."
Stop. No. No. Lindsey forces the snow and noise away, blinks and tries to focus.
"Look at me, Linds. Look at me."
He's biting into Gunn's shoulder, and he doesn't remember when that happened. Let's go slowly and his head falls back. He's gasping and moving and Gunn's staring at him.
"You want another?" Gunn asks, and Lindsey starts shaking. Shaking and moving and yes, he wants another. He hears himself say it this time, hears the way his voice is faint because even though he keeps sucking in air, he still feels like he's not breathing.
"Easy," Gunn says softly. "Try to hold still for me."
Still. No. He can't do still. He can't. There's too much to feel, there's too much in front of him and behind him and he's got to keep moving because he's got to feel it. Somehow Gunn manages. Manages to work a third finger in, and it's tight, and that one wasn't at their mouths, and Lindsey hasn't messed around with another guy in two years, and he's full. Just full.
He can't move as fast, but...but that's fine, because he's full and when he moves slower then Gunn's fingers stay pressed against his prostate longer, and his cock rubs against Gunn's a little bit more.
His breaths are deeper now, and Gunn's wrangled his other arm free and Lindsey lifts his head so that it can move under his neck. Gunn never looks away from Lindsey's eyes, and Lindsey finds he can't look anywhere else either. And he's so full and so fucking close that he's shaking again. Fine deep tremors that ripple down him. So. Damn. Close.
Gunn changes the angle of the arm that Lindsey's head is resting on so that he can bend it at the elbow. His hand presses at the center of Lindsey's back and then it *moves*, hard and slow, just like everything else. Goes right up the center of Lindsey's back.
"You're gonna come for me, Linds," Gunn says, his voice deep and tense.
"Yes, yes, yes," Lindsey mumbles. How the fuck could he not? Gunn's pumping his fingers in and out of Lindsey's ass, and he's *touching* Lindsey's back, and he's twisting his hips in tight little circles, and Lindsey's going to fucking explode any minute now.
It's building slow and steady and full, and Lindsey's just riding it. Waiting for it to happen. Then Gunn changes everything. Doesn't let Lindsey shift back after he thrusts forward. Pushes his fingers that much deeper in. Keeps Lindsey still with the hand on his back. But Gunn's hips, they keep moving. He keeps rubbing his cock against Lindsey's, and his fingers are right in that perfect spot, and Lindsey snaps.
Slams his hips backwards and forwards, and Gunn's not moving his fingers out, just letting Lindsey leave and then pushing hard and deep when he comes back.
Gunn's lips pull back from his teeth. "Yeah, that's it, Linds."
The faintest thought tries to make its way in. Something about the fact that he hates being called Linds. Doesn't let anyone do it. Refuses to answer to it. But it's gone before it ever really gets there.
"Come for me, Linds. Come."
And he's so close, so close, everything's pulling together somewhere at his center. It's dense and taut and it wraps around itself over and over again, getting denser and smaller, and then Gunn's hand drags up Lindsey's back, pressed against it so hard and tight that Lindsey's skin burns with the friction.
The last bit of everything wraps around itself and his balls get tight, and then it all lets go, and Lindsey shoves against Gunn's cock and comes and comes, and it keeps crashing over him even when he's done, because Gunn hasn't stopped anything.
He's still thrusting his hips and his fingers, but it's frenzied now, like he's been holding back all this time. Gunn's cock keeps grinding against his, and every time it brushes against the head, Lindsey convulses and twitches, and it has to end because it's too much and it's about to stop feeling good, but the hand on his back moves to his hair, holding tight, and Lindsey's going insane. Gunn won't look away, won't let him look away. Just keeps thrusting into and against Lindsey, pressing harder to get friction, and Lindsey separates from his skin.
His eyes get wide and he thinks they probably look wild and crazed, and Gunn just tenses up, like everything is coiling in him, and he pushes himself once, twice more and then he freezes. His back arches and his mouth opens, and for a split second there's utter stillness, and then his face draws in, and he's coming all over Lindsey's stomach, and he's making a choked scream at the back of his throat that comes out deep and primal. His muscles are straining and cording at his neck, and his head is thrown back. Lindsey doesn't want to blink because he doesn't want to miss it.
He watches Gunn's muscles all let go at once, sees him collapse without collapsing, looks at the frantic rise and fall of his chest. Gunn's fingers slide out of him and Lindsey's leg falls to the bed, landing awkwardly, and he wants to move it, but he can't. He can't move anything. Can only lie there and watch Gunn's hand come to his face to brush against his brow.
"Saw you," Gunn tells him.
.End
Next Story in Series - The Thin Red Line
Series Listing in Memories here.