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Flyboy

Chapter Text

New Zealand was quite a long way from... well, anywhere, Douglas thought. Sixteen hours of flying had worn him out, and his body had no idea what time it was. Douglas rather thought it was evening as the sky outside his hotel window was glowing pink and blue, but maybe that’s just how skies looked in New Zealand, all the time.

Douglas’s least favorite part about long distance flights was trying to fall asleep after. His entire body ached with exhaustion, but he couldn’t turn off, the twin stimuli of tiredness and keyed-upness warring in his head and body.

Douglas had been flying for 30 years, though, so he knew the solution to this particular problem: Porn.

The internet truly was a wonderful invention, Douglas thought as he took his clothes off, grabbing his phone as it fell out of his pocket. The hand not holding his phone migrated to his dick, loosely stroking himself without any real purpose or expectation as he opened up a private browser and started to click around the usual sites.

His brain still couldn’t settle, though. He found himself thinking about the runway choices at Christchurch, about Arthur’s inane questions as they did post takeoff check offs (“Does the wind go in the other direction in New Zealand?”). He clicked on a video, watched two burly men make out for a minute, and then his mind began to wander again, wondering what Carolyn had planned for them, idly replaying the buttons and choices of their last flight, Martin’s fingers gripping the throttle as he landed. His dick, while pleased by the attention, had also not quite decided if it wanted to fully pay attention to the proceedings.

Pornhub Gay clearly wasn’t meeting expectations at the moment, so maybe he needed to try something new. An ad for “Live Cams - Models nearby!” seemed enticing enough, and took him to a new site.

Douglas didn’t really see the point of Live Cams. He didn’t want spontaneity, he wanted professionals who had rehearsed and had standards to maintain, for goodness sake. Some of the boys were cute though, and he clicked on a faceless torso at random. Clicking led to more clicking, and while Douglas found himself mostly intrigued by the absurd usernames, there was something kind of appealing about all these bodies, shamelessly spread out across bedroom floors or plain white sheets, abs clenching and pecs quivering and a truly remarkable variety of toys going in and out.

He lingered for a while on the headless torso of one particular cam boy (what were they supposed to be called? Actors?). “Flyboy” was an utterly ridiculous username, but Douglas wasn’t going to pretend that he didn’t like a well-placed aviation reference, even in his porn. “Flyboy” was attractive, too - wiry but strong looking, with defined shoulders and a sprinkling of freckles down his torso. He wasn’t live at the moment, but there were a bunch of past streams to click on. It seemed Flyboy was reasonably prolific on this site - streams every couple of days, sometimes two a week, but sometimes a few weeks would pass without any new videos.

Douglas’s dick was perking up a bit, and now Douglas was a bit more focused. Flyboy’s own dick was gorgeous, perfectly straight and almost plump, leaking a little bit at the tip as Flyboy’s flyfingers wrapped around it. Flyboy was moaning off screen, little huffs of breath that were remarkably sexy for something so simple. The whole thing was simple - Douglas had seen a couple more complex and intriguing premises in the previews for other streams, but this was just Flyboy jerking himself off on camera. Or, on camera from the neck down.

The setup gave a good view of Flyboy’s whole chest, all the way up to his neck, which was rapidly turning a dusky pink, even red. His nipples were hardening as Douglas watched, stroking himself, pert and stiff as his chest heaved. The man on the screen was panting now, deep gasping breaths that lifted those magnificent shoulders, that emphasized the lines of his ribs, the concavity of his stomach. He was thin, skinny even, but Douglas could see the strength under his skin, the twist of his oblique muscles as Flyboy’s flyforearm bent to grasp his dick. His fingers were long and slender, and he looked like he was squeezing himself hard enough to hurt.

It was really hot, Douglas realized, jacking himself harder. The little puffs of air, the way the man gyrated and twisted himself in different directions, as if seeking out a particular sensation, pushing his hips into his hand, fucking into his fist. Douglas was closer to orgasm than he’d thought, his eyes glued to those tiny glimpses of the man’s cock as it poked between his fingers on the upstroke. Douglas was suddenly desperate to see that cock come. He wanted to see it, he wanted to taste it, to feel that skin, to touch the sticky wetness he could see on the screen.

Flyboy was panting now, moaning almost continuously, moving his hand faster and faster, and Douglas’s hand was speeding up too. Abruptly there was silence, a held breath, and then several things happened at once:

Flyboy said “oh, shit,” out loud, voice deep and resonant, sounding strained.

That gorgeous dick finally exploded, sticky white come coating those long fingers.

Douglas realized he knew that voice, knew exactly who “Flyboy” was.

Douglas came so hard he blacked out.

 

Two and a half hours later, Douglas had:
Many new jokes to make at Martin’s expense
Two orgasms
A worrisomely chafed penis
Some anxiety about Martin’s current lifestyle and income needs
Intimate knowledge of several months of Martin’s activities
An absolutely massive problem.

“Flyboy.” God, it would be.

Now that he, unfortunately, knew what he was looking at, Douglas was able to recognize what had to be the inside of Martin’s bedroom in his horrible student housing, present in the majority of the videos. Drab walls, a very basic bed with a well-loved quilt - that was about it. Flyboy was good at camera angles, had gotten better since his early videos, and his shots revealed almost nothing about where he lived

Douglas knew the camera angles had improved, because he had now watched… all the videos.

All the free ones, at least. It appeared Martin had a premium subscription option, which was almost too much to bear. Douglas couldn’t bring himself to sign up for that, but he wanted to. He really, really wanted to.

Some of the shots in the videos he’d watched, however, were most definitely not Martin’s room. They looked like they were in hotel rooms. HOTEL ROOMS. That meant that Martin was doing… this… while they were on the road. It meant that, on several particular nights, while Douglas was eating sushi or talking on the phone to his daughter or half-heartedly scrolling through the channels on the hotel cable television, Martin was mere feet away, moaning into a camera. Or licking his fingers lasciviously. Or all manner of things Douglas could now perfectly picture.

Was Martin recording right now?

Douglas sighed, and put his phone down. This was a real problem. And aside from Douglas’s unexpected reaction, which he likely needed to examine, this was also Martin’s life, and Douglas was more than a bit concerned about him.

From all appearances, Martin enjoyed being Flyboy. The videos made it seem as if he enjoyed it quite a bit. But that was Martin’s job, in this situation - to look like he enjoyed it. People didn’t turn to sex work if there were other options for them, Douglas was pretty sure. He knew Martin was skint, knew he worked hard and never had enough money, but had it gotten that bad? Was this the only recourse Martin had?

And worst of all, how could Douglas talk to Martin about it? He was worried, and he wanted to check in. But this was… the very definition of private. And admitting Douglas knew would be admitting how he knew, and that would be horribly awkward, not to mention Martin was likely to deny it, or clamp down. They were coworkers, for god’s sake.

A REALLY massive problem, indeed.

It was very late, now, and Douglas did still have to fly to Christchurch in six hours. He really needed to go to sleep. One more video, one more orgasm, and then he would pass out, really he would.

Douglas felt like he was watching someone else’s fingers as they clicked through rows of videos on the site, settling on one in particular. Even if he did talk to Martin about this whole thing, there was no way Douglas could tell him about having watched this video. Or having watched it twice, or how Douglas’s fingers were wrapped around his rock-solid cock, again, and how Douglas’s mouth was open and his breathing was getting faster. On the screen, Martin’s face remained out of the frame, but he was talking, words slipping out like it pained him to say them, “God,” and “fuck” and more. The camera was focused on Martin’s groin, on his fingers rubbing and stroking his cock, without quite taking it out of the pale pink lacey underwear he was wearing. The lace pulled against his hips, against the bones of his pelvis, even as his cock was dark and red within it.

“Oh, oh fuck, please,” Martin said, and Douglas groaned, out loud, alone in his hotel room. How loud had that been? Could Martin hear him in his room next door? Fuck.

On screen, Martin’s breathing had gotten faster, and there was a dark spot forming in the pink lace as he leaked pre cum.

“Please, daddy,” Martin whimpered, and that was it. Something hot and dark rushed up Douglas’s spine, something that made him feel both warm and guilty all over. Douglas squeezed his eyes shut, but he could still hear Martin’s sobs, his pleading moans, another “daddy” and “please” and “I’ll be good.” Douglas came before Martin did, but he didn’t fall asleep until the video clicked off.

Chapter Text

24A had asked for a refill on her tea five times. Five times, before they’d even reached cruising altitude. Where was the woman putting it all? Did she have an extra bladder in those overpriced high heels?

Either way it was a sure bet for passenger derby, Carolyn thought, as she walked up the aisle to the cockpit. She might as well make a few quid off the horrible woman.

“Drivers!” Carolyn called imperiously as she opened the flight deck door, but, shockingly, neither of them responded to her, or even looked up. They were supposed to be flying an aeroplane, though, so maybe not looking up was some rare good sense.

Douglas was looking at Martin but acting like he wasn’t, his eyes flitting back and forth from Martin’s face to the window in front of him.

Martin was facing straight ahead, the stiffness of his neck belying how seriously he was keeping his eyes fixed on the horizon.

Carolyn wasn’t totally sure, but she thought Martin had said something like “How did you even find it?” as she walked in.

Douglas’s mouth was open as if he was pondering his response when he saw Carolyn.

“Ah, hullo, Carolyn,” Douglas said, his voice missing some of its usual mellifluousness. “How are our honored guests? No problems, I assume?”

“They’re horrible, of course,” Carolyn said. “What are you two up to up here? Did I interrupt a game?”

There was no response, and the air felt… thick, somehow. Awkward. What had she walked in on?

Wait, Carolyn thought. I don’t care.

“Well,” Carolyn said. “Are you up for a round of passenger derby?”

“Oh, YES,” said Arthur, coming through the door with coffees.

 

Carolyn didn’t win five quid because no one was willing to put actual money down, but the glory of winning was almost as good, as was the sight of 24A knocking a tall snotty gentleman in a bowler hat out of the way.

They were nearly to Christchurch now; she expected Martin to announce landing checks over the PA shortly. Martin and Douglas were still being… strange. Themselves, but somehow with lots of extra furtive glances and pauses where they shouldn’t be. Douglas kept looking at Martin’s hands on the controls, for some reason.

Carolyn told herself it was none of her business and also probably trivial, but she was extra quiet in creeping up to the flight deck, and the door barely made noise as she opened it.

“You’re just going to make fun of me,” Martin was saying, his voice sounding incredibly small. “Or, you’ll… you’ll tell..”

Martin trailed off but Douglas seemed to know what they were talking about it

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Douglas said, with more conviction and earnestness than Carolyn was used to hearing in his voice, except when he was trying to swindle customs officials.

Martin seemed taken aback by the sincerity, too, and there was a few seconds pause. Carolyn should really leave, this was none of her business and also, remember, she didn’t care.

“Well then, why did you bring it up?” Martin said, and he sounded defensive, but also curious.

Douglas had abandoned looking at the instruments and was looking straight at Martin. He breathed in like he was going to say something, and then paused. From her spot hiding - standing - by the flight deck door, Carolyn couldn’t see all of Douglas’s face, but he looked startled, like something had struck him.

The pause lingered, and Douglas looked more and more bewildered.

Carolyn backed herself out of the flight deck, heading to the galley full of dignity and not at all like a nosy busybody. It would take Douglas some time to answer that question, she would bet, and Carolyn had things to do.

Chapter Text

Either Carolyn was in an inordinately good mood or New Zealand hotels had serious regulations about outdoor spaces, because their hotel suite had an actual balcony.

Martin rested his elbows on the railing, looking out towards the mountains across the water. The air smelled crisp and cool, and he could feel a breeze ruffling his hair.

There was the smooth scraping sound of a glass door opening to his left, and then closing again. He and Douglas’ rooms were connected by an interior door, and shared a balcony. That was more like Carolyn’s MO - balconies, but they had to be shared. Martin spared a brief thought for how excited Arthur must be about the balcony attached to the suite he was sharing with Carolyn, and a brief prayer that Arthur didn’t fall off it.

“I guess the skies do always look like that,” rumbled Douglas, breaking the silence. The other man came to stand next to Martin, his own elbows resting on the bannister

“Like what?” Martin said. Douglas was ... closer than he should be? Or maybe this was normal. What was normal? Had they stood next to each other on a balcony admiring a sunset before? Was that strange? What was appropriate here? Douglas seemed different, but maybe Martin was the one who was different. And of course Douglas was different, he knew about… about the website, and the streams, and Douglas had so many questions. Was he standing closer? Maybe?

“Nevermind,” Douglas said, quietly. He wasn’t looking at Martin, he was looking out onto the horizon. Martin searched Douglas’s face, more intently than he usually did, trying to see if something was different. What was Douglas thinking, now?

Douglas’s gaze tilted slightly towards Martin, and caught him staring. Martin was sure he was blushing, he always blushed, but there was a moment when they looked into each other’s eyes, and, something was … different.

Martin cleared his throat, and stood up straighter. He was sorely tempted to walk back a meter or two, but that was ridiculous.

“I didn’t really start on purpose,” Martin said. “I actually made a bunch of videos and deleted all of them as soon as I made them. I didn’t think I was going to really do it.”

Martin didn’t even have to look over to know that Douglas was making his “I’m a mere bystander to this conversation, of course” face, so he didn’t. Martin kept his eyes on the distant mountains, and laughed, softly, at the response Douglas hadn’t said out loud.

“I know you’re going to ask about it, eventually,” Martin said. “I’m just saving time.”

There’s a pause, the only sound the birds in the settling dusk.

“All right,” Douglas said, finally. He sounded thoughtful, and also like he was trying to keep himself in check. “So what changed, then? Why did you post them?”

“Well - “

“Actually, scratch that,” Douglas said. “If I’m allowed to ask questions, and we’re not doing this solely on your assumptions of what I might say, I want to start with a different one. Where did you even get the idea?”

At this Martin did look over at him. Douglas looked earnest, which was a strange look on him.

“Where did I get the idea for … porn?”

A pause.

“Douglas, do I really need to explain the concept of taking your clothes off for money to you? I would think you, of all people, would have some -”

“All right, all right,” Douglas said. “I guess I won’t ask the questions. Go on with your narrative, you’re the star here.”

Martin frowned as he turned back to the sunset. That … almost … sounded like a dig at him? But Douglas’s didn’t sound like he was teasing, it wasn’t a teasing voice. Was Martin a star, was that what Douglas was saying? He was already blushing from this whole conversation, but he could feel his face and neck heat further in the cool dusk air.

“Well, um,” Martin continued. “What changed was needing the money. It was around Christmastime, and I wanted to buy something nice for Mum, she’d been through a lot that year, and people don’t need to move stuff as much around that time, so Icarus had mostly dried up. And the heating had gone out in the house, while none of the students were there to pay… it was a rough patch.”

Douglas remained silent. Martin didn’t look at him.

“So I thought, well, lots of people do this, it can’t be that hard, I’ll just put one video up and see what happens, pay off the heating and that will be that,” Martin continued. “It was a devil of a time setting up the account, too, all sorts of weird questions and features, it took me ages.”

“You don’t say,” Douglas drawled, dry as possible.

“Yes, well,” Martin said, stumbling a bit. “Well, that first video turned out to be all right. I mean, I didn’t make enough to cover the heating, at first, but people actually seemed to like it, and paid me pretty well. So I did another one, but live this time -”

Douglas made a noise. Martin waited to see if he was going to say something, but he didn’t, so he continued.

“And that was pretty good, and then I got better at figuring out what people wanted, so I was making more money so I - uh, I kept doing it,” he finished, trailing off a bit awkwardly.

“And that’s … it?” Douglas asked.

“Well, yes,” Martin said. “I mean, I’m careful, I never show my face, or any identifying details-”

Douglas made a sound, and Martin stopped talking.

“Ah - signet ring,” Douglas said. “I just realized you weren’t wearing it,” and then he stops talking.

“Um, yes, exactly,” Martin said. There was a bit of a pause, but it seemed it was still Martin’s turn to talk. “I’m quiet on the videos, too, I’m sure no one I live with knows about it.”

“You’re quiet,” Douglas said, and sounded like he wanted to say something else.

“Well, quiet enough,” Martin said. He almost asked “You’ve never heard me, right?” But then that would mean admitting that he streamed in hotel rooms sometimes, and Douglas probably didn’t need to know that. Martin never made videos on company time, per se, but it was close enough, and Douglas would probably be appalled at how close Martin had brought his less savory job to MJN. Martin had worried about this a lot.

“Hmm,” was all Douglas said to that, and then it was quiet again.

Martin wasn’t sure what to think. He’d expected… well, he never really expected Douglas to find out, in the first place. He’d been so careful for just that reason.

A smaller part of him, one Martin tried very hard not to acknowledge, had thought a lot about Douglas finding the videos, and what he might do with them. That part of him tended to come out when Martin was filming, when he was really close to coming, when he needed just that extra push...

But now that it happened in reality, not in fantasy, and Douglas did know, Martin had expected more of... something. He expected teasing, or maybe for Douglas to be appalled or disgusted. Not this quiet contemplation.

“What people wanted,” Douglas said, abruptly. “You said - you said you figured out what people wanted?”

“... yes?” Martin said.

“Well, what was it?” Douglas asked. “What do they want?”

“Oh!” said Martin. “I mean, I don’t know what everyone wants, or anything like that. I just noticed which videos did better and tried to keep doing those things.”

“And those things were…” Douglas prompted.

“Um,” Martin said. Douglas wasn’t acting like he was about to tease him - he seemed genuinely interested, maybe. Martin had never really talked about any of this with anyone; no one in his life knew about Flyboy, and it wasn’t like there was a social club for cam models that he was a part of, where he could network and talk about best practices.

So Martin hadn’t really talked about it with anyone, but maybe he could.

“Shy, mostly,” Martin said. “Sweet, I guess. Quiet, and, and soft, and stuttering.”

“Stuttering?” Douglas said.

“Don’t laugh,” Martin said, warningly. “The first time was an accident, clearly, but there were… well, a bunch of comments about it being, uh. Um. It worked, is what I am saying, so I started to play it up, and, well.”

Martin heard Douglas shift next to him. The sun had almost set now, and it was starting to get dark. The air was cool and clear, a slight breeze blowing. Martin noticed he was biting his own lip.

“Is that,” Douglas started, and stopped. Martin couldn’t think when he’d ever heard him this hesitating. “Were you…” and then he trailed off again.

“I tried a few times to do other things,” Martin said, answering a question he wasn’t sure had actually been asked. “Tried to be more dominant, or more aggressive or more, I don’t know-”

“More supreme commander?” Douglas said wryly.

Martin chuckled. “Maybe,” he said. “Anyway, it didn’t work. Some of my regulars commented and said that it was funny or cute, but those videos didn’t get the same play count or views so I stopped trying it.”

“Hmm,” Douglas said, and then it was quiet again.

It was dark now, for the most part, and Martin still wasn’t sure what Douglas was thinking. Which was rare, because, aside from the exact specifics of some lie or scheme, Douglas always broadcast exactly what he was thinking. That was Douglas’s whole thing.

“So, do you want to just get all of your quips out now, or should I expect an ongoing supply over the next few months?” Martin said, and now he looked over.

“Hmm?” Douglas said. He was looking over at the mountain, slouching over onto his elbows, his back hunched over himself. He appeared lost in thought.

“I just - I assume you’re going to make fun of me now,” Martin said. “I thought it would have started already. Or that you are going to tell me what a terrible idea this all is, or how awful I am, or - I don’t know.”

Douglas sighed, and seemed to shake himself a bit as he turned toward Martin. He really was standing closer now, Martin was sure. He could see the breeze swaying the soft grey hairs on Douglas’s temple.

“Actually, Martin,” Douglas said, his voice still calm and earnest, no trace of teasing. “I was mostly worried.”

“...worried?”

“Yes, I’m sorry for caring too deeply, when you so clearly have it in hand,” Douglas said sarcastically, folding his arms across his chest. “But forgive my concern about my younger coworker and the circumstances that might make him turn to… well, to less traditional forms of employment. I worried about what might have happened to you.”

“Oh! Well, nothing too terrible,” Martin said. He got some revolting comments, but that was normal, and that was what the block button was for. “There was one, uh, one customer who messaged me every day for a few weeks telling me I had to marry him.”

“Really?” Douglas asked, his eyes widening. He looked - angry?

It had been months, actually, but Douglas didn’t need to know that. “Yeah, he tipped well, but eventually I got tired of it and blocked him.” That part was true.

Douglas said, “Well, good.”

“And as for the rest, well….” Martin paused, chewing on his bottom lip. “It’s not so bad, really. I, um.”

Douglas didn’t say anything, just continued looking at Martin, thoughtfully. He shifted his weight from foot to foot a bit.

“I’ve started to like it, I think, actually,” Martin said. He wasn’t sure why he was still talking, what he was saying all this for. Somehow, a Douglas that was listening to him, focused on him, actually interested in what Martin was saying - it was heady, almost. It made Martin feel - important. Valuable, somehow.

“You like it,” Douglas said, and his voice sounded lower and a bit rougher than it had before.

“Well, the money’s good,” Martin expanded, and his hands had come up now, starting to gesture as he talked. “And it’s much easier than - well, than moving people’s furniture, or even than flying. And I can pick when I do it, and it’s easy to schedule.”

Douglas was looking at him, and cocked an eyebrow as if to say ‘but that’s not all, is it.’ And of course it wasn’t.

“And, well,” Martin took a deep breath. “I like it, too. I like meeting people and talking to them, but being able to log off. I like the uh, the performance. Knowing I’m doing a good job.” He looked up at the sky, sighed, and forced himself to look at Douglas’s face now. Douglas was really close, and in the darkness his eyes were somewhat in shadow. He smelled good, too, Martin realized, a combination of aftershave and who knows what. It made Martin think of flying, and of safety.

“I like knowing that people think I’m sexy,” Martin said, and he was holding Douglas’s gaze now. He’d come this far, might as well go all in. “I like how much they want me, and I like when they tell me that. I like being the reason they get off.”

Douglas was staring at him now, his eyes direct and intense. Martin wasn’t sure what would happen next, but it felt… big. Important.

“I like it, too,” Douglas said. It was quiet, almost said into himself, but Martin heard it.

“What?” Martin asked, because he had to make sure and he wanted to hear Douglas say it.

Douglas’s arms went down, and he stepped closer. He was right in Martin’s space now, forcing Martin to look up ever so slightly at Douglas’s face.

Douglas reached out and touched Martin’s cheek. His hand was cool in the evening air, careful and sure as he stroked down Martin’s face.

“You are doing a good job,” Douglas said. His voice had dropped even lower, deep tones and gravel that almost made Martin shiver. “Everybody does want you.”

Martin felt dizzy, taking in deep breaths. His eyes were fixed on Douglas’s, even as Douglas’s gaze tripped down Martin’s face, to his lips, the pulse in his neck.

“Do you know how I know you’re doing a good job, Martin?” Douglas said, the usual detailed enunciation of Martin’s name sounding even headier now in the darkness. His hand was on Martin’s collarbone now, fingers grazing his throat. “Because I watched all of your videos. All of them, in one go. I wanted to stop, but I couldn’t help myself.”

Martin felt like he was lit up from the inside, incandescent, like he was burning up all his fuel at once.

“I want you, too,” Douglas said, and there was a finality to it, even though Martin knew that Douglas would ask him before anything happened. But Martin was in it now, caught up in Douglas surrounding him, in the quiet night and the breeze fluttering over his skin.

“Yes,” Martin gasped, before Douglas could even ask. He knew he sounded like he did in his videos, when he was trying to be extra breathy and performative, but it wasn’t on purpose this time. That’s just what he sounded like.

“Can we be - can we go somewhere else, not out here?” Martin said.

“Of course,” Douglas said, and then Martin was being shepherded in through the glass door, towards Douglas’s room. Douglas’s bed.

“Are you sure, Martin?” Douglas said, stepping back, giving Martin a modicum of space.

But Martin didn’t want space. Martin had made a lot of videos, and while he never let himself think about it, in the back of his mind on half of them was the idea that a particular person might find them. It was a fantasy, an imaginary concept, nothing he thought about consciously, but he knew. He knew that when he closed his eyes and tried to writhe at the best angle for the camera, he was thinking about… well, this.

“Yes,” Martin said again, and that was that.

The white teeth of Douglas’s grin were visible in the dim light. “All right,” Douglas said. “Then show me how good you can be when the camera is off.”

Chapter Text

“Mum, did you know there are 9 sheep for every person in New Zealand?” Arthur said, pouring the coffee into two cups.

“How on earth do you know that?” Carolyn replied, sounding long-suffering.

“There was a poster of fun facts about New Zealand in the elevator, and that’s the only one I remember,” Arthur said. “Are all those sheep going to be in the cabin with us, or do they go in the hold?”

“What - we’re not taking sheep on our flight, Arthur, why would we?”

“Well, if every person in New Zealand comes with 9 sheep, we’d have to?”

“Oh, Arthur,” Carolyn said. Arthur recognized that tone as the end of that particular line of thought.

“Nine times as many sheep as people, though,” Carolyn said a moment later. “I’ll have to bring Herc here.” She had a very considering look on her face.

Arthur opened the door to the flight deck, with a “Morning, Skip! Morning, Douglas!”

“Oh, uh, hello, Arthur,” said Martin. He was turning very pink for some reason.

“Did you get a sunburn, Skip?” Arthur asked.

“What?” Martin said, or more like squawked.

“Well, you’re a bit red on your neck. Oh, and your ears, too. Oh, and now your face! Were you out on the balcony too long?”

“Balcony?” Martin asked. “We were - I wasn’t - why would you ask that?” His voice had gotten quite high.

“It was a brilliant balcony,” Arthur said, handing the second coffee to Douglas. “You could see all the mountains!”

“You could indeed,” Douglas said. “All kinds of things you could see from that balcony.”

Martin made a strangled noise. Maybe his sunburn was impacting his ability to talk?

“All right, chaps,” Arthur said. “See you in a bit!”

“Thanks for that, Douglas,” Martin said as Arthur turned around. His whispers were always very loud.

“You’re very cute when you’re squawking” Douglas said as the door closed. And maybe, after that, though Arthur couldn’t quite hear, “flyboy.”

“Douglas!” That screech, Arthur could definitely hear.

 

It turned out China was not very close to New Zealand, which was disappointing because they were both on the same side of the world, so by rights they should be close.

But after almost 10 hours of flying, they were nearly there, finally. Arthur had provided the cheese tray, many coffees, dinner, and also another meal that should really have been breakfast, because that’s the order of things, but which everyone kept saying was a second dinner.

Every time he’d come into the cabin, though, Martin and Douglas were… different. They’d stop talking as soon as he came in, for one thing, rather than what they usually did, like try to get him to play a game that he didn't properly understand. They were looking at each other in funny ways, too. Sometimes Douglas was smiling, sometimes Martin was blushing, and one time they both immediately looked away as if he’d caught them at something. Arthur wondered if they were planning some scheme, again.

This time, as Arthur walked in, they were quiet, both looking towards the lights of Chengdu. It was never this quiet in the flight deck.

“Hello, chaps,” Arthur said, as he came in.

“Oh, hello,” Martin said, before lapsing into silence. Arthur snuck a look at his face and saw he looked happy. Like, really happy. Brilliantly happy.

He looked at Douglas, and, he, too, seemed… quite happy.

“Why’re you so happy?” Arthur asked.

“What now?” Douglas said, but he didn’t really seem like he was listening.

“You both just seem...really excited, or something.”

“Oh, you know,” Douglas said. “Just, excited to be almost there.”

“Are you really fond of Chengdu then, Douglas?” Arthur said.

“Some parts of it, I suppose,” Douglas said. “I’m mostly excited for the hotel room, to be honest with you.” Douglas looked over at Martin when he said that.

“Oh, yeah,” Arthur said. “I guess you must be tired, after all this flying.”

“Indeed,” Douglas said. “All this flying. That’s what it is.”

When Arthur looked over at Martin, he was smiling, too.

“Skip, your sunburn is back,” Arthur said. “Weird, it’s dark out.”

“Maybe it’s from the spotlights,” Douglas said. “Martin is a star, after all.”

Chapter Text

Douglas had been to Chengdu before, but he couldn’t tell you what it had looked like then and he definitely couldn’t tell you what it looked like now. Airport, taxi, hotel room - presumably they existed and he saw them and experienced them, but Douglas couldn’t register anything, couldn't think about anything, because all he was looking at was Martin. Martin, blushing whenever he caught Douglas staring at him. The little smile that played on the corners of Martin’s mouth when he thought no one was looking. The way Martin kept touching his lips with those long fingers. The arch of his neck, the thin skin of his wrists, the shadows under his eyes- Douglas wanted all of it. Douglas wanted to devour him whole.

He still felt utterly upended. It had been two days since he’d first clicked on the video, since he’d first seen Martin like... that. Two days, a few thousand miles, and enough sex that Douglas’s dick was probably going to fall off if he kept going at this pace, but it was - everything was kind of amazing. Martin was amazing. Martin wanting him, letting him…

The elevator door was opening, Douglas realized. Did he have a key in his hand? Did he know where he was going?

Apparently he did, or hotels were easy enough to navigate even in a daze, because abruptly he was unlocking a door and Martin was stepping through in front of him.

“Um” Martin said, standing still in the middle of the room, placing his suitcase by his feet. “Uh..do you want, um -...”

He was so sweet, Douglas thought, almost shocked by the wave of affection that rolled over him. Martin had always been awkward, uncertain, indecisive, and Douglas had thought it was funny, mostly, and occasionally irritating, but now it was…

Martin was staring at him, and the blush was getting darker.

Douglas realized it was his turn to say something

“Dinner?” he said. “I can’t imagine Carolyn has dedicated the funds for anything beyond a packet of crisps and ketchup, but I bet we could find a questionable street cart that has outstanding dumplings we’ll remember for the rest of our lives.”

Martin opened his mouth, and closed it again. He shrugged, like he had to shake off a bad thought, and opened his mouth again. “I’m not really that hungry, honestly,” Martin said. “I - I think my body is confused about what time it is and how much catering I ate.”

“All right,” Douglas said. He wasn’t really hungry either, to be honest, and he wanted to get his hands on Martin as soon as humanly possible. How far down did that blush go? Could Douglas make it go down further?

“But, um, I can go with you, if you want,” Martin said, and Douglas’s eyes snapped back to his face. “Or, um, if you don’t want me to, I can, I mean, you should -”

Martin’s eyes were looking a little twitchy, and he wasn’t meeting Douglas’s eyes.

Oh, dear, Douglas had cocked this one up a bit, hadn’t he.

“Martin,” Douglas said, cutting through the other man’s stuttering.

Martin stopped talking, and finally met Douglas’s eyes.

“Martin,” Douglas said again. “Do you think I don't want you to be here with me?”

“I, uh,” Martin said. He swallowed, and Douglas watched the lines of his throat move. Douglas took a step closer. “I’m just not sure what happens now,” Martin said.

Douglas was closer to Martin now, his toes brushing up against Martin’s suitcase. He took a chance and reached a hand out, brushing a shock of curly orange hair back from Martin’s forehead, behind his ear.

“Whatever you want to happen, Martin,” Douglas said.

Martin licked his lips, which was patently unfair, Douglas thought. Douglas was busy watching Martin’s tongue, and then the redness of his lips, when Martin said, “Can we just stay here?”

“Here as in, this hotel room?”

“Yeah,” Martin said, and while he was still blushing it no longer looked like he was about to make a run for it. So Douglas took a bit more of a chance.

“What would we do in this hotel room all night, Martin, just the two of us?” He put a little extra smoothness in his voice, a little faux innocence on the sarcasm. Douglas knew what worked.

“You keep saying my name,” Martin said, which was not an answer to the question, but he was leaning a little towards Douglas now, listing like his body wanted it.

“I think you like it,” Douglas said, and trailed his fingers down the side of Martin’s cheek. “But I can call you something else, if you like.”

“Uh,” Martin said, and his face was very close. Martin’s eyes were grey-green and Douglas had seen them almost every day for the last year or two but now he couldn’t get enough of the way they shifted and swirled, darkened in the light. Martin’s eyes were getting darker at this moment, pupils expanding, and that was all the warning Douglas got before Martin was kissing him.

“Mmm,” Douglas said, and took control. One arm twined around Martin’s shoulders, pulling him closer, and the other went to Martin’s hip, steadying him exactly where Douglas wanted him. Martin was kissing him with an almost frantic edge, wet and fast, little breathy gasps coming out as Douglas slowed him down, coiled his tongue against Martin’s, put a hand on his jaw to turn Martin’s face into his own.

“This,” Martin said, pulling back just enough that the word puffed across Douglas’s lips, and then he moaned as Douglas scraped his teeth across Martin’s jaw. “This is what - oh - this is what I want to do, all night.”

Douglas ran his hand down Martin’s neck, the other moving further back to cup Martin’s ass. “Just this?” he asked, the murmur escaping through his lips as he mouthed at Martin’s jaw. “We can do this if you want, Martin, but I had some other ideas, too.”

“Guh,” Martin said, in his usual eloquence. He was, there was no other word for it, melting into Douglas, his weight dropping onto Douglas, letting himself be held by Douglas’s arms, chest, thighs. Douglas was fairly certain Martin was getting harder, though it was hard to tell in their current positioning, and then Martin stepped back and moved somewhat away.

Douglas, not usually given to uncertainty in the bedroom, had a flash of absolute panic that startled him. Had he done something wrong?

Martin was uncoiling his arms from where they had gone around Douglas’s neck, and there was cool air wafting down Douglas’s front where before there had been squirming, warm, lean Martin. Oh dear, indeed.

Douglas tried to think what could have gone wrong. The night before (night? Whatever time it had been in New Zealand) had been, in Douglas’s opinion, an absolutely smashing time, and he really thought Martin had had a good time, too. Douglas hadn’t wanted to push at anything too intense or unusual, but it had been...they’d seemed compatible, he thought. On the same page, at that moment.

Martin was in front of him now, making what appeared to be very earnest eye contact. Earnest was maybe the only kind of eye contact Martin made, though.

“You said you watched all the videos,” Martin said.

“Ah,” Douglas said. “I did say that, didn’t I.”

“Did you watch them all, then?” Martin asked. “Really all of them?”

Douglas sighed. He felt like a creep. “Yes, all of them. Some of them twice.”

Martin’s eyes lit up. He moved a step closer, and suddenly Douglas felt like he was seeing two Martins at once, the version of Martin he knew - bumbling, awkward, adorable - overlaid with the Martin from the videos - sexy, confident, seductive. A professional. It was a bit startling, another part of his perceptions upended.

“Which ones?” Martin said, and his voice was deeper now, more of a purr. It was becoming clear that Douglas had not done anything wrong. Quite the contrary, actually, and this newly seductive version of Martin wanted him to know it.

“Hmm?” said Douglas. He was distracted by watching Martin’s hand, those long fingers, as they reached towards the buttons on Douglas’s shirt.

“Which ones twice? Which one was your favorite?” Martin said. He was unbuttoning them, now, slowly but with sure fingers, using both hands.

Was this all it took, Douglas thought, for stumbling, nervous Martin to turn into the professional sex worker he was? All Douglas had done was kiss him and tell Martin he wanted him. If that was all it took for Martin’s fingers to be on Douglas so surely, Douglas would do it every day.

“I don’t-” Douglas said, cutting himself off. It was strange to be embarrassed about what he’d watched, at this point, when he knew Martin wanted him to see it, but still...there was porn and there was porn. There were things that went straight to the deepest, darkest parts of his hindbrain, that made him come his brains out and that tripped all his guilty feelings at the same time. He couldn’t tell Martin about that, could he?

Martin had reached the end of the buttons and was pulling Douglas’s shirt sleeves out of his pants, sure and careful, letting his fingertips brush against Douglas’s waist.

Could he?

“There was one, ah,” Douglas said.

“Yes?” Martin said, and he was leaning in, licking up Douglas’s neck, almost kittenish and careful in his motions.

“From, hmm, a couple months ago, I think maybe you filmed it when we were in Milan,” Douglas said, trying to keep his voice steady as Martin kissed the spot right under his year, tongue hot over the vein there.

“Mm, very careful detective work, unsurprisingly,” Martin said into Douglas’s neck. “What was I doing in it?”

Douglas took a deep breath, and then another as Martin kissed the tendon on his neck again. And then he couldn't hold out and fit his hand to the back of Martin’s head, moving Martin’s head to tilt up towards Douglas and bringing his lips to Martin’s. Kissing Martin was heady, intoxicating, and Martin opened up so easy to him. So sweet and so soft.

It was probably another two minutes before Martin pulled his mouth back again, hands looped over Douglas’s shoulders, still pulling him closer. “Tell me,” Martin said, his voice impossibly low. “Please, Douglas?”

Well. In for a penny...

“It wasn’t what you were doing so much as what you were saying,” Douglas said, and it was hard to tell from this close but it seemed Martin’s eyes lit up again at that. “You were begging, and the words that came out of your mouth…” Douglas leaned forward at that, kissed Martin on the lips, softly. “I couldn’t handle it, Martin, you were so gorgeous and perfect.” He kissed Martin again. “And it was what you were wearing, too, I suppose.” Douglas finished, thoughtfully.

Martin was grinning now. “I know what video you’re talking about,” he said, and he looked like Douglas had told him he got the cheese tray.

“Oh, good,” Douglas said, dryly.

“That’s what you like, huh?” Martin said. He was looking a little sly, or calculating, though of course on Martin that ended up mostly looking bemused. Martin trailed his fingers down Douglas’s spine, slowly. “I can do that, you know. What I said in the video, how I acted.”

“You can…”

“For you,” Martin said, and if that didn’t send a thrill down Douglas’s spine. “If that’s what you like.”

Douglas wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

Martin chuckled, sounding fond but exasperated. “Of course that’s what you like, Douglas, I should have known.”

“Why is that-” Douglas stopped himself before asking the question he probably didn’t want an answer to. There was a more important issue. “Martin, you don’t have to do that for me.”

“Of course I don’t have to,” Martin said. “I want to.”

“That video...that was you acting,” Douglas said. “I know that. You have to make it seem like you like it, it’s your job. It’s acting. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do that with me.”

Martin really was smirking now. Douglas hadn’t thought that Martin knew how to smirk, but apparently Martin just hadn’t had the right incentive, because he was doing a bang-up job of it now.

“Douglas,” Martin said, and he was leaning closer. His voice was low enough Douglas could feel it rather than hear it, a deep vibration in his chest. Marin reached out and cupped Douglas’s jaw in his hand, his thumb brushing scorching touches down the tendons of Douglas’s neck as he pulled Douglas closer to him. “You, of all people, know what a bad actor I am.”

Martin was kissing him again.

Martin was a terrible actor, Douglas did know that.

It was like something clicked on in Douglas’s brain. He was in for significantly more than a penny now.

“All right, sweetheart,” Douglas said, and he let his voice reach registers lower than he thought he’d ever used in his life, a burr and a purr with a side of absolute command. He kissed Martin and slowed him down, gentling the kiss until they were just pressing lips together, soft and sweet.

Martin’s arms wound around Douglas’s neck, pulling Douglas towards him, and Douglas reached behind his own head, circling his fingers around Martin’s wrists. Douglas brought Martin’s arms down and around his front, pulling back from kissing until they were standing a few inches apart. Martin was grinning now, his eyes big in his face, ready for whatever Douglas would give him. Douglas kept his fingers circled around Martin’s wrists, holding Martin’s arms down at his sides, Douglas’s grip careful and firm, not too tight at all.

Douglas swallowed, and hoped it wasn’t audible. Martin just looked so expectant, so trusting, so…

“You’re so good,” Douglas said, and now that he’d started he felt like he couldn’t stop. “Are you going to keep being good for Daddy?” Those fizzy sparks were going up his spine, and he felt breathless even though they were just standing there. Martin’s eyes were so big.

“Yes,” Martin said, and he sounded as breathless as Douglas felt, thready and pleased.

“Yes, what?” Douglas said. His fingers were still around Martin’s wrists, and he tightened them ever so minutely. What was he doing, what were they doing.

Martin bit his lip, strong white teeth sinking into plush, pink flesh. He licked his lips where he bit, a tiny flash of tongue, and Douglas couldn’t look at anything else, couldn’t think about anything else than that one tiny spot on Martin’s lips where his tongue touched.

“Yes, sir. Yes, Daddy,” Martin said, his voice even softer. He sounded overwhelmed, but he was smiling, and Douglas felt his own face break into a wolfish grin.

He kissed Martin, ran his own tongue over that spot on his lip, kept Martin’s hands pinned to his sides, and felt Martin shiver underneath him.

“Do you trust me, baby?” Douglas asked, and didn’t give Martin a chance to respond, capturing his lips, thrusting his tongue in between Martin’s teeth. Martin gasped, or tried to, air rushing in the corners of his mouth. “Will you let me take care of you, like you deserve?”

“Mrgh,” Martin said, garbled against Douglas’s lips.

Douglas pulled back a bit, ostensibly to let Martin answer, but really to get his teeth on the edge of Martin’s jaw. Martin didn’t say anything, though, just sweet breathy noises as Douglas moved his mouth against Martin’s skin. Martin’s wrists were straining a bit against Douglas’s fingers, as if he really, really wanted to touch. And wasn’t that an interesting piece of information.

Douglas had some ideas, he had plans, but the skin under Martin’s chin was so soft against his lips, and Martin was almost trembling under him. Douglas gave himself another few seconds of pressing his chest against the warmth of Martin’s front, of feeling Martin’s stuttering breath rushing past his ear, before he pulled back, put some space between Martin’s face and his own, and cocked an eyebrow.

“Well?” Douglas asked

Martin looked like he’d forgotten the question, which was not unexpected.

“Are you going to let me take care of you, baby?” Douglas asked, slow and deliberate, stroking his thumbs across the delicate tendons of Martin’s wrists.

“Oh, oh - yes,” Martin said. “Yes, please, Dou-Daddy. Please.” Martin was looking at him dead on now, those grey-green eyes almost defiant in their earnestness.

“Good boy,” Douglas said, and Martin’s breath hitched, his long eyelashes fluttering as he looked at Douglas.

Douglas let go of Martin’s wrists, and stepped back. Martin swayed towards him for a moment, his eyes glued to Douglas’s face like he couldn't look anywhere else.

Douglas stepped back another pace until there was at least an arm’s length of space between the two of them. He let his eyes do a very deliberate once over of Martin’s body, down to those thin ankles and then slowly dragging his eyes up Martin’s long legs, up his pelvis and his torso in his crisp sharp uniform, up to Martin’s face again.

“Take your clothes off,” Douglas said, once the silence had lingered long enough. “Daddy wants to see you.”

Martin blinked, very quickly and then again slower, as if he was thinking, and then a small smile crooked up at the corner of his mouth. Martin’s fingers - they were so long - went to the top button of his shirt, slow and careful. He still had a slight smile on his face, pleased and enigmatic, as he moved to the second button down. He wasn’t making it showy, Douglas thought, not a lot of like, dramatic gestures or fancy moves, but he was definitely being deliberate. A coy smile, the attention to detail as he dragged his fingers down his torso, a quick shift of his hips to accentuate his pectoral muscles and his abs as they were exposed.

Martin’s shirt was unbuttoned now, his undershirt soft-looking as it hugged the curves of his hips and his ribs. Martin paused, hands starting to move towards his shoulders to push his shirt off, but he looked out at Douglas from under his lashes, as if waiting for something. Douglas started - his eyes had been so caught on the lines of Martin’s collarbones, he’d dropped his responsibility to hold up his end of the game.

“Good boy,” Douglas said, his voice low but simple, and watched Martin’s reaction. Martin’s smile stayed on his lips, and he seemed pleased, but that was it. Ok, then.

“Keep going,” Douglas said. “I want to see all of you.”

Martin was unzipping his pants and stepping out of them as Douglas talked. He didn’t do any kind of shimmy or showy move, but the combination of eye contact and hand placement and the way he slowed down and then sped up reminded Douglas that this was a thing Martin did. It was heady as all hell, knowing that Martin was good at this, that other people paid to watch what Douglas was seeing now. And that Martin was letting Douglas take care of him, take him apart.

“Do you remember what you were wearing in that video?” Douglas asked. “I do.” He stepped closer, walking around behind Martin now as Martin shucked off his shirt, as he gripped the bottom of his undershirt to pull it over his head. “It’s too bad that it’s not practical to wear lace all day when you’re flying. Uncomfortable, I suppose.” He stopped behind Martin, admiring the lines of his back, making it clear what he was waiting for. Martin looked over his shoulder, quickly, his tongue coming out to lick his lips slightly, a faint blush on his cheeks.

“It’s a pity, really,” Douglas said, as Martin finally took off his last layer, the pale creamy bare skin of his back on display for Douglas. “I’ll have to get you more lace, something really sweet.”

Martin was twisting his head around to try to see Douglas behind him, but Douglas kept walking around him, always one step ahead.

“Maybe something pink?” Douglas asked, rhetorically. “Not a vulgar hot pink, though, nothing too flashy. Something soft.”

Martin was standing in just his briefs now. Which were, disappointingly, a plain white.

Douglas stopped in front of Martin, far enough away to not be able to touch, and quirked an eyebrow. Martin was hard in his underwear, it was painfully clear, and he hadn’t said anything but his cheeks were pinking up, the flush running down his neck and starting to creep down his chest. It was incredibly attractive, and Douglas was going to destroy him.

Douglas cocked an eyebrow, and Martin flushed further and hooked his thumbs into his waistband. He paused for a dramatic moment - he really was a professional - before pulling them down with just enough of a flourish to draw attention to what was being revealed. Not that Douglas would be looking anywhere else.

“Yes,” Douglas said. “Pale pink I think. A nice contrast, something to wrap you up in.”

Martin started to speak, and then cleared his throat. It was an endearingly Martin moment, reminding Douglas that this was his friend and coworker, not just a gorgeous stranger on the internet. Martin licked his lips again and said, voice hoarse and a little shy, “Whatever you want, Daddy.”

“Oh, yes,” Douglas said, without thinking. He walked in a circle around Martin, again. “You’re so gorgeous, sweetheart. So good for me.”

Martin shifted on his feet. He was flushing pink all over now, all the way down his chest and his stomach. His cock was hard and blood red, jutting up from his pelvis. Douglas had so many ideas.

Douglas’s own cock was begging to be part of those ideas, and was becoming harder to ignore. That was a good idea right there, Douglas thought.

“On your knees, please, flybaby,” Douglas said.

Martin laughed, as Douglas hoped he would, but he also went down immediately, dropping to his knees in such a graceful way that Douglas wanted to applaud. Without Douglas even having to ask, Martin folded his hands behind his back and looked up at Douglas through his lashes.

“Yes, Daddy?” Martin said, less hoarse, less trembling this time. God, he was so good.

Douglas walked the extra foot over to Martin, looming over him. Martin was naked and Douglas had all his clothes on, and Martin was looking up at him, eyes huge and liquid and open in his pale face. Douglas felt like he could fall in to them, and god, there was so much he wanted to do, so much he could do to Martin, so many ways to string him out and make him beg and give him exactly what he deserved.

Douglas took one step closer to Martin’s waiting face, unzipped his pants and took his cock out. Martin was turning redder, now, and as Douglas watched his tongue poked out, and he licked his lips. God.

“Suck me, sweetheart,” Douglas said, and Martin did.

His lips were tight and hot and spit was running down his chin, and it was so good. Douglas wasn’t even sure what he was saying as he talked, running his mouth about whether this was different from all of Martin’s toys, and what his fans would say now. Martin was turning pinker and pinker but he didn’t stop, he didn’t back down, licking and sucking at Douglas’s cock like he was starving for it.

“Good work, baby,” Douglas said, and Martin moaned. The vibration ran through Douglas’s dick, and Martin looked so happy, so thrilled to be there, so eager and wanting - Douglas was far closer to coming than he should be at this moment, and he still had so many plans.

“Stop,” Douglas commanded, and Martin did, instantly. He stopped moving and looked up at Douglas with his big eyes, Douglas’s dick fat and heavy in Martin’s mouth, spit sliding out at the corners as it lay there.

Douglas let the moment extend, Martin still and waiting beneath him, looking at him, totally at Douglas’s mercy to command. Martin blinked, slow and languid.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” Douglas said. “Everything about you is gorgeous. Sit back now.”

Martin looked somewhat disappointed, but he leaned back, letting Douglas’s dick slide out of his mouth with a truly obscene “pop.” A thin line of saliva connected Martin’s lower lip to the tip of Douglas’s dick, hanging in the air until it broke.

“So gorgeous, and all mine,” Douglas growled.

Martin was panting a bit, his lips red and shiny.

“Say it, baby,’ Douglas said, trusting that Martin knew what he meant.

“Yours,” Martin said, and god, his voice was wrecked, deeper than ever and cracking on the edges. “All yours, Daddy.”

“Absolutely correct,” Douglas said, leaning down to cup Martin’s dick, stroking him once slow and deliberate. Martin bit his lip, breathing out quickly through his nose, but didn’t say anything else.

“Good flyboy,” Douglas said, taking his hand away, and looming back up to his full height. He was still wearing all his clothes, his dick jutting out from his pants, and Martin was so naked, cloudy pink over his gorgeous pale skin. Douglas could stay in this moment forever, Martin gazing up at him through his eyelashes.

Could, but he didn’t have to.

“Can I fuck you, baby?” Douglas asked, keeping his voice cool, calm, professional. He could be asking Martin about the landing runways at Schiphol. “Or do you want something else?”

Martin’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment. Douglas really didn’t know what Martin was going to say - they hadn’t done that yet, and maybe it was beyond what Martin wanted. Maybe he didn’t do that. Flyboy made lots of videos about his dick and some about his hole but Douglas couldn’t think of many with actual penetration, and-

“Yes.” Martin’s voice interrupted Douglas’s racing train of thought. It was barely above a whisper, but Martin sounded so present, so sure, even as he was so strung out and needy. “Yes, please, I want it.” Martin’s eyes flicked up, all the way up, meeting Douglas’s. “I want it.”

It was such a pretty sight, and Douglas was so hard and so ready, he had to lean down and kiss Martin, just one quick, wet kiss. Martin startled and then leaned into it, bending towards Douglas, his mouth so soft and tender…

It took a lot for Douglas to pull away after that, but he had plans, and Martin had needs.

“All right, baby,” Douglas said. “On the bed, please.”

Martin stood and backed himself up, ungraceful and urgent, until he was sitting on the disgusting hotel cover, naked, watching Douglas for his next instruction.

“Well, take that awful duvet off at least, goodness,” Douglas said. “Who knows where it’s been. And then,” and here Douglas reached into his pocket, tossing its contents at Martin, who was scrambling with the blankets on the bed, “open yourself up for me.”

Martin fumbled catching the bottle of lube and then managed to trip himself up in the corner of the blanket. Douglas’s lips quirked into a smile. A sex professional, maybe, but still Martin.

“And do a good job,” Douglas said. “I don't know if I can be gentle.”

Martin was still fumbling with blankets but Douglas didn’t miss his little gasp at that. Douglas had a good vantage point, he thought, watching the goose pimples spread over Martin’s bony shoulders, watching him finally extricate himself and lie back against the probably still disgusting but maybe less disgusting hotel pillows, watching Martin spread his legs wide on the mattress. Douglas thought he could see Martin’s eyes flick over to Douglas periodically, and then to the ceiling, and around the room. Checking his light sources, Douglas thought, making sure he had the best angle.

It reminded Douglas that this version of Martin was always aware of his audience. That he was playing a part, at least a little bit. He looked amazing, spread out on the bed like that, his hair fanning out on the pillow, the long column of his throat as his head was thrown back, biting his lip as he trailed his fingers down his torso. But he looked amazing on purpose, right? He looked like that because he was trying to, because he knew Douglas would like it and because he was putting on a show.

Martin’s fingers had reached his hole - he’d put lube on them when Douglas wasn’t paying attention, apparently - and the hiccuping gasp he made as he pushed one in... that wasn’t faked. It was cute, how overwhelmed he sounded, and Douglas decided that he liked a show. So what if Martin was doing it on purpose? He was doing it on purpose for Douglas, because Douglas wanted him to. Wanted him.

Martin was making little noises now, almost mewling. Douglas was still in his clothes, and while he liked watching Martin like this, spread out and naked with Douglas standing over him, it wouldn’t really do for the next part.

So Douglas stripped his clothes off, hanging them carefully over the back of the chair, lining his shoes up by the bed, while Martin stuck a third finger into his hole and arched his back into it. Martin wasn’t saying anything, wasn’t asking for anything like Douglas had expected (wanted), just looking over at Douglas with those dark eyes and sweat pooling at his temples.

“Stop,” Douglas said, and Martin froze immediately, barely breathing. God, Douglas could fall in love with him. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, uh…”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir - yes, Daddy.”

“Good,” Douglas said but Martin was still talking.

“Yes, please,” Martin said, and his voice was breathy, “please fuck me, Daddy, I want you to, I need it, I-”

“Jesus,” Douglas swore. Martin’s fingers were still in his hole, he wasn’t moving, just miles and miles of pale skin, big eyes, the things he was saying-

“Too much?” Martin said, and when Douglas looked up at his face, it was like he’d taken a mask off, and it was just regular old Martin, mediocre word game player, nervous pilot, lover of aeroplanes, and, apparently, making Douglas’s cock hard enough he could use it to steer GERTI.

Martin’s fingers hadn’t moved, even as he looked up at Douglas, nervous and earnest. Where did this person come from?

“Not too much,” Douglas said, leaning over Martin on the bed. “It’s never too much, sweetheart,” he said, dipping down to brush the hair off Martin’s forehead. “You’re so perfect, you’re so good to me,” Douglas said, and he kissed Martin’s forehead, the bridge of his nose, his lips, quick and sweet.

“Okay,” Martin said. Douglas quirked an eyebrow at him. “Okay, Daddy,” Martin amended, and his eyelids lowered again, arms coming up, twining around Douglas’s neck. His tongue came out to wet his lips after Douglas pulled back, running over where Douglas’s had been.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Douglas said, pulling himself back far enough that Martin’s arms dropped to the bed.

“Great,” said Martin. “Please do.”

Douglas chuckled, and slid his hands down Martin’s sides, finger-light touches over his ribs. He grabbed Martin’s wrists in his hands, and slid them over his head.

“You cannot touch,” Douglas said. Martin’s mouth twisted into a moue of displeasure, but Douglas continued. “This headboard is poorly designed so there’s nothing for you to hold on to.” Douglas drew Martin’s hands towards each other until Martin clasped them together. “You’ll just have to be good for me.”

Douglas watched emotions war with each other on Martin’s face - he clearly didn’t like the instructions, but he also clearly wanted to be good. While Martin was thinking about it, Douglas used the opportunity to pull the lube out of the horrible duvet and slick his cock up, to spread his body over Martin.

“All right,” Martin said, thoughtfully, “I can be-” And then he stopped talking because Douglas had fucked his cock into Martin’s hole all in one go, smooth and steady and unrelenting. Douglas stopped once he was buried all the way in, waiting as Martin gasped and groaned, feeling his body shiver from the inside.

“I can be good,” Martin gasped out.

“Mmm,” Douglas said, and kissed him. “I know you can, baby,” he said, and started moving.

Fucking Martin was exquisite. Martin’s hole was tight and hot, his insides dragging against Douglas’s cock with every thrust. Martin was gasping, his hands clasped together over his head, shivers of motion running down his torso as his abdominals clenched, as his back arched. Douglas mouthed along the tendons of Martin’s neck while he thrust into him, tasting the sweat that was building up in the crevasse of his throat. Every time he pulled his cock out he could feel the tautness of Martin’s rim, lube squelching around both of them, before he slammed back into that tight wet heat and Martin’s groans.

“I want to touch you,” Martin said, his voice surprisingly clear even as it ended in a moan. “Please, please, let me.”

“No,” Douglas growled, and slowed down enough to really make Martin feel it when he pushed back in.

“Please, I want, I-”

“Not yet, baby,” Douglas said. “Be good for Daddy. You’ll get what you want.”

Martin’s breaths kept ending in little squeaks and mewls, but when Douglas met his eyes he looked like he was thinking about something. It was the same face he got when he thought he’d got a really choice entry in one of Douglas’s games, and it felt utterly out of place in this context except that Douglas was as charmed by it as he always has been. When Martin opened his mouth, though, what came out was not a celebrity whose first and last name form a complete sentence.

“Come on, Daddy, give it to me,” Martin said, and his voice was scratchy and deep and he sounded wrecked. It was a performance, Douglas thought, but good lord someone should give him a BAFTA.

“I want it,” Martin continued, and the fingers over his head were clasped together so tight that Douglas could see his knuckles whitening, but his voice was even. “Make me feel it, Daddy, fuck me so I’m limping for days.”

That ripped a groan out of Douglas, his eyes squeezing shut. When he opened them Martin’s hands were creeping down, starting to wrap around Douglas’s shoulders. Douglas growledl, and Martin’s eyes widened, hands going back overhead.

“Not,” Douglas gasped, “yet.”

Martin pouted, adorable and grumpy, and then gasped as Douglas pounded into him particularly viciously. Douglas was close, he knew it, he was going to lose it soon but he wanted to make Martin come, first, before he let Martin touch. Douglas thought it wouldn’t take too long, Martin was red and squirming under him, and Douglas adjusted his weight so he could get a hand around Martin’s dick, thick and red and flushed between them.

“Oh!” Martin gasped as Douglas circled his cock with his fingers. “Oh, fuck,” and his head jerked back, exposing that long line of his throat again, his shoulders going up to his ears.

“Yeah?” Douglas said. There was supposed to be something else, he was sure, but Douglas’s heart was in his ears, his thighs were burning and he was so close, and he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to say.

Martin’s fingers were unclasped again now, creeping down towards Douglas’s torso. “Stop”,” Douglas grunted and Martin groaned at him, hands going back over his head.

“Come on, Douglas, just let me-”

Douglas kissed Martin’s neck, sinking his teeth in, enjoying the way Martin arched up against him.

“Fuck, Douglas, fine,” Martin gasped. “Fine, I won’t touch, but I want to.”

“Yeah?” Douglas growled. He really wasn’t holding up his end of the conversational bargain at this point.

“I want you to do this all the time,” Martin said, his words remarkably clear for the way he was being pushed up the mattress, the sweat pooling at the corners of his eyes. “I want you to - fuck, Douglas - I want you to do this all night, every night. All night, Daddy, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me til you come dry, I want it-”

“Fuck, Martin,” Douglas said, and came.

He collapsed with it, falling on top of Martin, who may have said something but Douglas couldn’t hear him, because he was still coming.

“Good lord,” Douglas said, and it may even have been out loud.

Martin was climbing on top of him now, straddling Douglas’s hips, because apparently he’d rolled over somewhere in there. Douglas was keenly aware of the sweat sticking to him, his skin cooling in the air conditioning of the hotel room, and also keenly aware of Martin’s desperate whimpers and how sexy he was, even now.

Douglas blinked and tried to focus. Martin was straddling him, his arse pressed back against Douglas’s spent cock. Everything was sticky and wet, and Douglas imagined he could feel his own come trickling out of Martin’s hole, leaking out and trickling down Douglas’s sides. Martin was touching himself, jerking off, his face red and his teeth in his bottom lip.

“No,” Douglas said, reaching out with what felt like the last of his strength and grabbing Martin’s hand.

“Come on,” Martin whined, his cheeks going redder. “Douglas, you berk, come on.”

Douglas kept his hand on Martin’s, tightened a bit until Martin stopped moving his. “What was that, flybaby?”

“Fine,” Martin huffed, rolling his eyes. “Daddy, you berk, come on.” His hand was twitching slightly under Douglas’s grip, and Douglas could feel the tremors in his thighs where they were splayed open over Douglas’s hips.

“You’re still mine,” Douglas said. “Mine, and you’ll do what I say, and only what I say.”

Martin groaned, his head flinging back as his shoulders hunched closer to his ears, gasping for breath. “Daddy,” Martin said, and his voice was broken, those deep tones earth shatteringly low and needy. “Yours, Daddy, yes. Please.”

Douglas wrapped his fingers around Martin’s cock, tightened ever so slightly, and said, “Come.”

Martin made a high pitched sound as he started to spurt, gasping for breath and collapsing into a hunch. He spilled all over Douglas’s fist, and all over Douglas’s hips, stomach, even his chest. Come was trickling down the sides of Douglas’s ribs by the time Martin stopped coming, and he slumped his shoulders forward.

Hair was sticking to Martin’s temples in orange clumps darkened by sweat. He was panting, his thin chest heaving, his lips bitten red and shiny. Martin’s eyelashes fanned out of his checks, long and wet looking, before he slowly blinked open and looked at Douglas.

Douglas, with what rational thought he was slowly regaining, thought Martin might look embarrassed, though he really hoped not. But there wasn’t embarrassment there, or shyness.

A professional, Douglas thought.

The corner of Martin’s lip quirked up, and he let out a sigh that was most of the way to a laugh. He looked completely fucked out, eyes hazy and dreamy, breath slowly coming back to normal, the tension that usually inhabited his spine and shoulders noticeably absent. He was grinning at Douglas now.

“Come here, baby,” Douglas rumbled without thinking, and stretched a hand out towards Martin’s shoulder. Martin giggled, almost, and collapsed himself on top of Douglas, stretching out so they were touching everywhere.

This kiss wasn’t as heated as their earlier ones, but it was still nice, tender and soft and purposeful. Martin melted against him, and Douglas ran his fingers up and down Martin’s spine, murmuring “you’re good, you’re so good, baby,” and other nonsense whenever his mouth was free enough to speak.

Eventually, sticky, Martin rolled off him and collapsed next to Douglas on the hotel bed. They were both fairly revolting, in terms of fluids they were covered in, but Douglas absolutely was not capable of getting up at the moment.

There was a moment of quiet, the only sound their breath in the recycled hotel air.

“You can’t...I’m not going to call you that when we’re working,” Martin said, his voice still gravelly and scratched but closer to his usual cadence.

“Mmm,” Douglas said. “It would be nice if you were more responsive to orders about things like the cheese tray, though.”

“Douglas-”

“Martin,” Douglas quelled, and rolled over slightly to kiss Martin on the top of his head, ginger hairs in his mouth. “I would never do that to you. This is….it’s ours, okay?”

Douglas could only see the top of Martin’s face from this angle, but he could feel some tension leave his shoulders and neck where Douglas was pushed up against him.

“Okay,” Martin said, low and quiet.

“Martin, that was…” Douglas trailed off, unsure of how to say what he wanted, the magnitude of it, the sex and the feeling of power but also the trust and the affection, and his uncertainty about this new thing but also his bone deep confidence in it. It was all too much and his brain was still sputtering from probably the best orgasm he’d had all year.

“I know,” Martin said, and he looked up towards Douglas, the easy smile on his face now visible.

Douglas wasn’t sure who kissed who, then, quick and sweet.

“You’ll have to be nicer to me on the flight deck now though,” Martin said, still sounding fucked out but satisfied.

“Oh, I absolutely do not,” Douglas said. “Flyboy.”