They've talked about this. In detail.
Still, Rick feels nervous. Excited, a little giddy, still a little disbelieving- he gets to have this, gets to ask for this- and he can't entirely tame the tattoo his heart is beating against his ribcage. He needs to get this right.
He wants to be the one who gives Shane what he needs.
They've talked about this. Rick reminds himself, repeats it like a mantra.
Rick had never really spoken about what he wanted in bed before. His face had felt like flame, afraid to give too much away. Rick wonders how things might have gone if he could have talked about what he wanted with Lori, if it hadn’t felt like such a guessing game. This really isn’t the place to dwell on that, and Rick shakes the thought off.
Shane had taken the initiative, explaining what he liked, what he didn't, his hard limits, explaining what that meant. That Shane knew about any of this at all, let alone be versed in it, is still hard for Rick to wrap his head around. Shane had more patience than he let on, but Rick could sense he had been itching to try this on with Rick.
Rick had slowly opened up. There was something so reassuring about the fact that if there were names for the things he thought about, fantasized about; then other people liked them too.
Rick shifts, concentrating on the man in front of him. He straightens his tie. He’s wearing a too-expensive suit that was previously reserved for weddings, funerals and any mercifully rare reunion. It’s been retired from the public eye and Rick couldn’t be happier.
‘Stay in the moment,’ Rick scolds himself.
Shane is on his knees, looking up at him.
The cocky smirk that Rick is so used to is gone. It’s less of an absence than Rick might have expected; the attitude that keeps Shane’s spine military straight has melted into relaxed shoulders, he doesn’t seem to feel the need to puff out his chest so much.
Shane isn't smiling exactly, but his eyes are shining like it's all his Christmases come at once.
Shane looks good like this, real good. Clad only in leather trousers that cling lovingly to the long muscles of his legs, the curve of his ass, the prominent bulge forming between his legs. His chest is bare, faint sheen of sweat making the well-defined muscles of his chest and stomach gleam. His muscular arms are bound behind him, secured with leather and silver clasps.
It took a while for Rick to admit to himself how much he likes seeing Shane like this; vulnerable, humble, his. Rick understands that helpless by choice isn’t helpless at all, but it doesn’t stop him from loving how it feels to have Shane like this.
Rick shifts, arousal growing.
He takes a moment to drink in the view. It's more than the chance to admire Shane’s body, or the sight of his friend in such a trusting, submissive posture, though he certainly enjoys both of these.
It’s that Shane looks content, in a way Rick can't recall seeing for a good long while.
It makes Rick determined to make this good. Rick takes a deep breath and walks over to the kneeling man. He forces himself to stroll, taking his time walking around Shane, looking his fill.
"Well, aren't you done up nice for me. Like a good little slut." He still feels a little awkward, saying things like this. Wondering if he’s gone too far, trying to find the line between dirty and ridiculous.
The rough intake of breath from Shane, who stares straight ahead, is encouraging.
Rick will get a rhythm going and it will be alright.
"My little slut," it comes out breathier than Rick meant it to, wonder creeping in.
Shane glances up at him. He looks very nearly bashful, but not perturbed by the affection Rick can't keep from his voice.
Rick relaxes a little. Shane might like being talked down to, but he doesn't seem to expect Rick to be an asshole about it. Rick was never all that loud in bed, let alone saying stuff like this. It feels good and strange and it belongs to both of them.
He stops in front of Shane, smiling when Shane's eyes go to Rick's crotch. His cock twitches at the heat in Shane's gaze. He would love to have Shane's mouth right now.
"I'm not as nice as you though," Rick slowly relaxes into his role, voice deepening into a purr, "my boots got a bit dusty. Why don't you take care of them for me.”
It's not a request, but Shane nods. "Yeah,” he swallows. "Let me."
Shane carefully leans down and kisses Rick's right boot. He needs to balance himself with his arms bound while learning Rick's boot with his mouth, tracing his tongue across the stitching, licking at the smooth leather.
The boots are already spotless, never even been worn outside. Didn’t matter, the cleanliness of Rick’s footwear clearly wasn’t why Shane enjoyed this. The sound of his tongue on leather causes Rick to swallow.
The entire thing is hotter than Rick might have expected. It was amazing to watch the cocksure, smart-mouthed deputy peel off into someone who could get on his knees and get lost in licking another man's boots.
Rick is a little fascinated at how intently Shane takes to looking after Rick’s boots. He doesn’t entirely understand it, but he does appreciate the outline of Shane’s cock straining the front of his trousers, what servicing Rick's boots does to him.
“This gets you off, huh? Licking my boots?”
Shane nods but doesn’t pause.
“Yeah, what do you like about this?” He’s genuinely curious, and he likes making Shane tell him.
“I—I, just,” Shane stammers in protest, “Rick.”
Rick watches the flush spread up Shane’s neck to the tips of his ears. Incredible. Actually managing to make Shane Walsh blush is a beautiful thing and Rick doesn’t hold back a grin.
“Why do you love licking my boots clean?” Rick hardens his voice a little, lightly rocking back on his heels as a gentle warning to answer his question.
Shane fluidly raises himself back into a kneeling position.
“There’s nothing else,” Shane swallows, meeting Rick’s eye. “I don’t hafta to think about anything, I can just do it, I, I just have to make sure they look good.”
Shane swallows and glances down, mutters, so quiet Rick barely hears: “I’ve never done it for anyone else, never wanted to.”
Oh. Rick swallows. When Shane had cautiously brought the idea up Rick had assumed his reticence was from the fear of scaring Rick off.
Rick is very, very aware of how hard he is right now.
He chooses his words carefully, his voice crisp and even: “You are such a good slut. You’ve got the dirtiest, sweetest mouth I’ve ever had. Knowing that you kept your filthy mouth pristine enough for my boots, it makes me happy, makes me so proud.”
Shane’s entire face lights up when he smiles and Rick doesn’t resist smiling back.
He sobers and makes his voice hard, “Now put your dirty mouth to good use and get back to work,” he commands.
Shane nods and returns to his task. It’s hard to lick and grin at the same time but Shane is doing a good job of it.
He switches to Rick's other boot, gently kissing the toe cap and then licking neat swaths up to the vamp, moisture from his mouth condensing on the leather. Shane kisses and licks his way down to the base of the boot, slowly trailing his tongue along the welt, far back as he can reach.
The sound is slick and dirty and it’s making Rick’s mouth go dry.
“That’s enough,” Rick interrupts, voice cool. Shane returns to a kneeling position. Rick retrieves a water bottle and pops the lid. He gently holds it to Shane’s lips, careful so the bound man doesn’t choke. Rick watches his throat work as he swallows.
He wants that mouth on him, but now just isn’t the time.
As if reading his mind, Shane rasps, “I wanna suck you.”
“Do you,” Rick looks down on him, drawing his words out until it’s no longer a question.
“Please,” Shane hastily adds, nearly apologetic.
“Forgot your manners,” Rick shakes his head, “like you want to be punished. Maybe I won’t let you come tonight.”
Shane gets a little wide-eyed at that. Rick isn’t sure he would actually deny Shane release- he looks so good when he comes, and Rick loves holding him while he’s pliant and stupid-sweet from orgasm- but it’s satisfying to know that Rick can surprise him, that Shane isn’t always sure what Rick will let him get away with.
Rick grips his chin, leans down to take Shane’s mouth in a demanding kiss. It’s slick and dirty, Rick biting and licking his way into Shane’s mouth. Rick is pleased by the soft sound of protest Shane makes when Rick pulls away. His lips are slick and red from Rick’s mouth.
Rick slips on a pair of cool leather gloves. The leather thing wasn't exactly a surprise: Shane slipped those damn gloves of his on every time he had to handle a weapon.
He traces two fingers around Shane’s lips. Shane licks the tips of Rick’s fingers, hopeful. Rick presses two fingers inside his mouth. Shane doesn’t bite down but lets the digits roll around in his mouth like they’re candy.
“Such a good slut, you look so good like this,” Rick praises. It’s so hot, Shane’s lips slick with spit, so eager to lick and suck Rick’s fingers: the promise of what he would do to Rick’s cock if Rick would only let him.
Hard to argue with that. Rick pulls his fingers away. Shane makes a discontent sound in response but brightens when Rick unzips his suit pants. He eases his cock out of his underwear and pants, lightly stroking himself, making a show of it. Shane licks his lips, focused on the sight of Rick’s hard cock.
“So gorgeous like this,” Rick murmurs.
Rick leans forward and teases the tip of his cock against Shane’s mouth. There’s something about the sight of his precome slicking Shane’s lips that makes Rick a little crazy. He can’t tease anymore, and slides inside Shane’s willing mouth.
He lets Shane take his time to get used to taking Rick in deep. When he’s ready he gives a little moan and Rick grips his hair, guiding Shane’s head. His mouth is hot and wet and eager. Rick can’t help moaning himself, it’s so good.
“If you could see yourself, so hot, Shane you look so hot like this,” Rick pants out.
The words cause Shane to moan around him and Rick gasps. He’s so hard, so close already. The deliciously obscene sound of Shane’s mouth, the way his lips look, slick and used as he swallows Rick down. Rick pants, moans a little at the pleasure of Shane’s tongue rubbing against the base of his length, murmurs sweet, filthy words of encouragement.
Shane’s eyes are half closed in concentration. Rick is getting close. He sucks in a breath, gathers himself a little. He wants to come in Shane’s mouth, wants to see his release streaking Shane’s chest, his lips.
“I’m going to come soon. Are you going to swallow for me, gonna swallow my come like the dirty slut you are?” Rick purrs.
It’s not really a question, but it’s worth it to see how it makes Shane shudder, the raw little noise that Rick feels more than hears.
He speeds up, thrusts getting rougher, taking what he wants. God, so good, so good like this, close so close and he’s moaning out his pleasure, loud and shameless. Rick is dimly aware that Shane swallows, obediently swallowing every spurt of come Rick gives him. Rick’s fingers are probably too tight in his hair but he doesn't care, grunting, he uses Shane’s mouth like it belongs to him.
Shane doesn’t even wince, just gentles his mouth, lets Rick thrust until it’s nearly too much.
Rick pulls away sighing a little. He loves how used Shane’s mouth looks, lips swollen, how he keeps licking his lips, like he’s relishing the taste of Rick. Rick puts his spent cock away and zips up, straightening his clothing.
He looks Shane over. “I don’t want to lean down, take care of that,” Rick strolls away to lean against their bedroom wall, making a show of looking Shane over.
Shane obeys, standing. He does a poor job of concealing how greedily he takes in Rick’s pose, like he’s the hottest thing Shane has ever seen.
Rick takes his time walking back over, liking the way his boots sound on the floor, the way Shane watches him, lips parted.
Rick stops behind Shane and steps in just close enough to feel the heat of his lover’s body, and just waits. There is just something about watching Shane’s shoulders tense in anticipation, the way his breathing catches just a little, waiting to see what Rick will do.
He strokes the fingers of one hand across Shane’s chest, the other down his stomach. It feels so possessive, dragging the leather over Shane’s smooth skin, cupping his pectorals, like the hard won muscle belongs to Rick and not Shane.
Rick traces a nipple, pinches abruptly and Shane gasps. Rick presses his mouth against the nape of Shane’s neck, scrapes his teeth across that one spot Rick knows makes his lover’s eyes go a bit glassy.
Rick keeps him guessing, alternating between the lightest of teases with his thumb, gently tugging and twisting on the hard nubs, and hard pinches that make Shane gasp and twitch.
He pulls Shane flush against his chest, the fabric of his suit against Shane’s bare back. The feel of Shane’s cuffed hands against Rick’s stomach, restless fingers skimming across the fabric of Rick’s suit. Rick wonders if Shane is even aware of it.
“I’ll make you work for it, until you’re desperate, until you’re beggin’ for it,” Rick promises in his ear.
“Fuck, Rick,” Shane’s voice is low and rough.
Rick can feel his fingers twitch.
Rick continues mapping Shane’s chest, liking the way the leather drags over Shane’s body, the contrast of smooth black leather and Shane’s tanned skin. Rick teases his fingers just below the waistband of the trousers, tracing his thumb over the join of leg and hip.
“Rick,” Shane swallows, frustrated.
“Somethin’ you want?”
The brunet licks his lips, swallows again. “Touch me, c’mon. Please,” all manners now.
Rick brushes his knuckles across the bulge in Shane’s trousers. He isn’t wearing underwear. Rick smirks, increasing the pressure and Shane gasps.
He shoves his fingers down Shane’s pants and rubs, likely a little too hard.
Shane moans and makes an abortive little thrust with his hips before going still. He draws air through clenched teeth, trying to control himself. Shane isn’t patient at the best of times, which is part of what makes making him wait so delicious.
Rick rests his chin on Shane’s shoulder and reaches down and undoes Shane’s trousers. He loves how he can see the tip of Shane’s cock, still trapped within the confines of the leather. It must feel so unforgiving.
Rick relents and wraps a leather-clad palm around Shane’s cock, releasing him from his trousers. Shane hisses a little, shifting in relief. The tip of Shane’s cock is slick with precome and Rick spreads the fluid with his thumb, smoothing the way. He strokes slowly, keeping his touch light. Shane arches his hips, needing more.
“Oh, oh fuh- Rick,” Shane bites his lip, cutting off his words.
Rick teases him, alternating between slowly stroking from the tip to base of his cock and quick circles on the sensitive slit. Rick cups his balls with his other, letting the leather slide over the hot skin. Shane shudders, moaning. Rick gets a rhythm going, not enough to get Shane anywhere, but enough to make him pant and sigh and struggle to keep his hips still.
Only Shane could be stubborn and obedient at the same time. Shane’s back arches, wanting more. His throat is bared and Rick has to lean forward and lick a hot stripe across his jaw, nibble at his neck, sucking a bruise that will appear just above the collar of his uniform tomorrow.
When Shane realizes what Rick is doing, why he’s doing it, he moans.
Rick smirks and abruptly Rick releases Shane’s cock. The brunet growls in protest. Rick doesn’t bother to hide his grin. He strolls over to his dresser, retrieving three markers: black, red, and blue.
He writes 'Property of Rick' on his lover's stomach with the black one. Rick takes his time, letting his fingers skim Shane’s stomach and chest. His skin is getting slick with sweat and the marker smears a bit.
“Mmm, my name looks good on you,” Rick steps back, admiring his handiwork.
Shane is biting his lip, staring at his marked skin.
It’s washable marker, which had annoyed Shane, but Rick had reminded him how that might look to have ‘Rick’s fucktoy’ written on his skin the next time Shane was in the locker room at the station.
The comment had earned him a smirk- clearly Shane had chosen to selectively hear that sentence- but Shane had conceded into using ink that came off easily.
Rick cups Shane’s ass. It’s such a fine ass, and as good as it looks encase in leather, Rick wants to see the paler contrast of Shane’s ass with his tanned skin. Rick likes watching the way the muscles shift and tremble with touch, the lewdness of spreading the globes of Shane’s ass and teasing him there. He slides the trousers down to mid-thigh, effectively trapping Shane’s legs. Rick teases Shane’s hole, just tracing the rim. He presses down lightly, just the tip of his finger against Shane’s entrance.
“Fuck,” Shane gasps. “Fuck Rick, yeah, c’mon,” straining against the way the trousers limit his movement.
Rick considers getting lube and just slowly fucking Shane with his fingers. He’s never tried it standing up like this before, and judging by the way Shane responds to being fingerfucked in bed, Rick would likely have to hold him up.
Maybe another time.
Instead, Rick scrawls ‘Fuck here’ at the base of Shane’s spine, considers, and writes ‘dirty slut’ across his ass, one blue word on each cheek.
“What, what did you write?” Shane asks, straining to look.
Rick grips his shoulders, biding him to shuffle within the makeshift bondage of his trousers, so Shane can see his body in the full length mirror.
“Oh,” Shane blinks slowly. He grins a little, swallows. “Yeah,” he nods, swaying a little, “yeah,” he repeats, dazed.
It makes him go quiet when Rick does this. Like the words make it true, make it real for him; as if it’s all he wants, his head emptied out, his thoughts replaced with nothing but need.
Rick turns Shane to face him and kisses him. Shane’s mouth is desperate, hungry.
Rick pulls back and takes Shane in hand, stroking him slowly. It’s so hot seeing him like this. Shane looks lust-drunk, lost in need. His eyes are heavy lidded and coffee black, lips parted.
“Fuck. Oh fuck, Rick please,” Shane gasps.
“Tell me what you want,” Rick commands.
It’s so good to take Shane apart like this, so raw with need that he doesn’t need to compete, doesn’t need to prove anything, he just lets Rick take care of him, trusting that Rick will help put him back together.
“Need, ah, need to come, lemme come,” Shane struggles to keep his eyes open, eyelashes shuttering in pleasure.
“You can do better than that,” Rick retorts, releasing Shane’s cock.
Shane fails to bite back a noise of protest. “Touch me, I, please Rick, don’t stop!” His thighs are shaking.
“Like this?” Rick circles a single gloved finger around the lust-dark head, teases it down Shane’s length. Shane moans, tries to speak, moans again.
“I, oh fuck, I need more. Please, I. Touch me how I need it, make it rough, fast so I can come,” Shane pants. “Let me come,” he pleads. Shane likes it rougher than Rick does, a sliver of pain in his pleasure.
Rick considers. He’s tempted to stop, just to hear Shane whine, to listen to him beg again.
Instead he removes his glove and slowly traces his index finger from the tip of Shane’s hard cock to the base. Comes back up and teases the slit. Just right there.
“Let me come, please lemme come,” Shane pleads, voice raw.
“Why? Why should I let you?” Rick wraps his fingers around Shane’s hot length instead. His fingers are dry, undoubtedly rough against Shane’s over-sensitized skin.
“Please, please please, I need to come,” Shane begs, hips snapping up into Rick’s grip, desperate. He’s making hungry little noises, shameless.
“Tell me,” Rick brings their mouths together in a slick, messy kiss, “tell me why I should let you come?”
“Because, ah, ah fuck, I, I’m your slut, I’m yours,” Shane gasps, his eyes are shut, teeth bared.
“Shane,” his voice sounds so calm, as if the plea doesn’t make Rick’s chest constrict. As if sharp possessive lust isn’t doing its damndest to make him hard again.
Rick touches Shane’s cheek, waits until Shane opens his eyes.
They’re liquid dark with lust, too keyed up to be anything but honest.
“You’re mine, you’re my sweet, hot slut,” it comes out an agreement, beholden to this honestly.
Rick hardens his voice and works him ruthlessly: “Come for me,” he demands, “Shane, come for me.”
Shane obeys: his hips jerk hard and he comes with a short, harsh shout. Rick strokes him through his orgasm, come slicking Rick’s hand and striping Shane’s thighs and trousers. Rick gentles his touch but doesn’t stop stroking him until Shane whines in protest.
He rubs the slick mess on his palm across Shane’s stomach.
Shane slumps forward, boneless, knowing that Rick will catch him. He’s shaking, little aftershocks of pleasure, panting against Rick’s neck. Rick holds him, stroking his hair, the slick smooth skin of his back.
“You were so good,” Rick praises, “you did so good. You waited for me, so good to me.”
When Shane’s breathing has returned to normal, Rick asks: “Think you can make it to the bed?”
“Yeah,” Shane’s voice is quiet, still a little raw.
Shane doesn’t seem steady enough to take them off just yet so Rick pushes his pants down past his knees, allowing Shane more room to maneuver.
Rick slips the cuffs off of Shane, tracing his thumb across the fading pink marks left behind on the thin skin of his wrists. Rick puts and arm around Shane and guides him to lay across their bed. Rick brings him a bottle of water, watching him drink greedily.
Rick joins him on the bed and gently rubs his wrists, pressing a kiss to each one. He skims his fingers across the brunet’s skin, checking for any bruises or injuries. Rick murmurs praise against Shane’s slick skin, voice gentle and rhythmic.
He helps Shane out of the confines of the leather trousers, checking for chafing. His skin is pinked from straining against the leather and Rick presses kisses across the irritated skin of his thighs.
“It’s fading already,” Shane sounds disappointed, rubbing a finger across the fading marks. Shane is pliant, for the moment, letting Rick take him in his arms. He rests his head against Rick’s shoulder, looking up at him. That rare stillness: Shane’s gaze is soft but lucid.
“How are you feeling?” Rick strokes his cropped curls.
“M’good,” Shane’s voice is sleepy. He turns in Rick’s arms, leaning up for a kiss and it’s molasses slow and deep.
“Was that ok?” Shane asks when they part.
Rick is finally beginning to understand that some people need to hear it. That there are so many different ways to tell someone you love them, as long as you tell them.
“It was good, you were so good. Nearly got hard again,” Rick knows how stupid he must look, with the grin he can feel stretching his mouth, but Shane is smiling back.
“Don’t fish,” Rick gently scolds, pulls him close.
“Thank you,” Rick kisses the back of Shane’s neck, his muscular shoulders.
“Thank you,” Shane murmurs back. “It was really good,” he settles against Rick and it feels like sunlight inside Rick’s chest.
It’s early, maybe seven or eight at night, but this is a twilight hour: a place they’ve built that that makes it easier to talk.
“I like bein’ here like this,” Shane continues, “being with you.”
He doesn’t have to say anything else. Rick wonders how long Shane had wanted this from him.
He can’t remember a time when he didn’t love Shane, like Shane had always been there.
Rick had wondered for so long what it might be like to touch his best friend, kiss him, all the things he could never have. Wondered if Shane ever thought about Rick the same way, if he lay awake at night and touched himself at the thought of Rick’s mouth and hands.
Now Rick gets to do this, gets to take his friend, his lover, apart and put him back together, and it’s the finest thing.
“Y’know, I still don’t know what to call you,” Shane interrupts Rick’s train of thought, fingers idly trailing through Rick’s chest hair.
They were still working on appropriate titles during scenes. Rick has always thought of ‘slut’ as such a degrading term, but Shane liked it, liked how Rick said it. There was something so intimate about it, dirty and sweet, that the insult began to feel like an endearment that no-one else would ever get to hear.
Knowing that Shane has done this with other men and women, has been someone else's slut, rankles a bit. The ugly prickle of petty jealousy Rick knows he has no right to feel. Shane had been his best man, had never stopped being his best friend. Never said a word against Lori.
“Yeah, I don’t really know,” Rick agrees.
'Sir' is a term used strictly for work, for strangers; neither of them want to bring it into the bedroom. Rick isn’t comfortable with being called ‘Daddy’ not to mention the fact that Shane so often calls him ‘brother’ in public.
“Technically I am your boss,” Rick reminds him.
“Master?” Shane offers.
“Only if you agree to do it in your best Alfred Pennyworth voice,” Rick dryly returns, “and clean the house afterwards.”
Rick wasn’t sure which was more absurd; the thought of Shane imitating Michael Caine in bed, or the possibility of him cleaning the entire house.
“Didn’t know you had a thing for Kevlar,” Shane snickers. “We can probably get you one of those breastplates with nipples on.” Rick doesn’t need to see Shane’s face to know that he’s grinning, enjoying himself.
“You’re just dyin’ to make a codpiece joke here,” Rick huffs, amused.
“You brought it up, not me,” Shane shifts to lay on his side so he can look at Rick properly.
Rick thinks of the raw declaration Shane had given him before. Rick wants to return some of that honesty.
"I like it when you say my name," Rick replies, and it feels like a confession.
"Rick,” Shane curls his mouth around Rick’s name, “it sounds good when I say it, huh?" Relaxed and sleepy, grinning, Shane sounds more like his cocky public self again.
“I could call you Richard,” he offers, mischievous. Rick narrows his eyes. The only person who ever called him Richard was his mother, when he was well and truly in trouble. Not a chance.
“Or I could call you Di—“Finish that sentence and you’ll be sleeping on the couch,” Rick warns.
They both laugh. Shane curls around him, one arm warm and solid across Rick’s chest. He sighs a little, nuzzling Rick’s neck.
Shane’s breathing evens out. Rick drifts, thinks how much better he sleeps now, how he sleeps just fine, and follows Shane, relaxing into sleep.