Chapter Text
It was amazing the sort of character growth one person could go through in a few short years. An old and unkind miser can become a generous and kind member of his local community in a single long winter night, a bitter and sad woman can grow to love those around her in the span of a single football series, and Trent Crimm?
Well, in a few short years, Trent Crimm can go from a lonely, aloof reporter with a mean reputation and a strong disdain for the latest gaffer of AFC Richmond, to a rather sweet, openly dorky ex-reporter currently in said gaffer’s bed, wearing nothing but the silk currently binding his wrists together over his head.
Ted Lasso, on the other hand, had gone from recently divorced and repressing a hell of a lot to doing much better, emotionally speaking, and also currently was trying very, very hard to make Trent Crimm cry. In a good, fun, consensual way, that is.
He was also well on his way to succeeding. Eating a man out until he was a shaking, moaning mess would do that.
Watching Trent Crimm fall apart—confident, cool persona cracked and crumbling, trembling like a leaf and arching into every touch desperately, thighs slick with how wet he was—was an absolute delight, and the kind of treat Ted fully intended to savor.
Y’know. Among other things.
“You really do look gorgeous like this, sweetheart,” he said, voice a little rough and that Midwestern twang a little more pronounced.
His thumb was rubbing gentle, maddening circles around Trent’s clit, his knuckles slick with how wet Trent was, and he smothered a smile as Trent ineffectually attempted to grind against his hand.
Trent let his head fall back on the pillow, clearly struggling to focus. He was already sensitive enough, poor thing, so it wasn’t any surprise he was flushed and shaky.
“W-what,” he said, choosing to ignore his own slip as he pointedly tugging his wrists downwards against the ropes, “helpless?”
It was a sarcastic word choice, but his tone was more breathless than anything.
“That too,” agreed Ted, almost cheerfully, and pressed his thumb down harder so that the hard edge of his nail grazed the base of Trent’s cock. Trent actually let a ragged, high-pitched whine escape his lips before he could stop it, hips bucking upwards until Ted pressed them down with his other hand.
Ted leaned down and licked him there, as if soothing the bite of it, but it only made Trent squirm more under him.
“I could finger you a little,” he mused, then licked him again, and Trent bit back another moan. “I want you to be nice and wet for me, darlin’.”
“You want me to beg,” Trent corrected, still breathless and sounding more pleased with the prospect than annoyed, despite his best efforts.
“Well, it would be very pretty of you,” said Ted, then he ducked down to swirl his tongue around Trent’s clit, nearly laughing as his legs spasmed on either side of Ted’s head. He pressed a kiss to the V of his hips, then up again to his stomach.
Trent looked down at him, face flushed and eyes wide.
Ted blinked innocently at him. “Don’t you want to be pretty for me, sweetheart?”
Trent’s eyes fluttered closed before he could stop himself, a fine shiver running up his spine. Yes, his whole body practically screamed, yes, please.
But still, he doesn’t say please, or even demand Ted get on with it and fuck him. He just shivers again, and spreads his legs a little wider. Ted isn’t sure that part was even conscious.
Ted shakes his head with a little smile. Well, Trent is plenty soaking now—all the better to tease him with. Ted does, after all, have Trent right where he wants him.
He makes Trent come one more time, with his face buried between Trent’s thighs, and then he gives him a little break—he’s a wreck, even as he’s trying to hold it together it’s not hard to tell—and checks his circulation, makes sure he’s doing alright.
He undoes the bonds tying his wrists to the bed—Trent actually almost protests, which is adorable and Ted teases him about it—but doesn’t untie his wrists. They’re still bound together as he slings Trent’s arms over his shoulders, so that now he’s pressed close, arms looped around his neck, splayed out on Ted’s chest and still reliant on him for balance.
They’re closer, now, and it’s warm, and it’s so easy to kiss him.
It’s even easier to tease him, to press the head of his cock to Trent’s slippery cunt and rub back and forth, watch him get impatient, until just as he’s about to say Ted, will you just fuck me already, Ted slowly presses inside, just past his rim. The words die in Trent’s throat and he gives a little gasp.
Ted sinks in slowly, pressing all the way inside him, and Trent can’t help the embarrassing little mewling noise that escapes his lips. He feels full, and he’s so hot and slick and Ted splits him open perfectly, making him feel every inch.
Trent can’t stop the noise he makes low in his throat, either, can’t seem to stop any noise he’s making, and Ted just chuckles like Trent’s being cute or sweet and presses an affectionate little kiss to the side of his bared throat.
Ted doesn’t even fuck him—he just holds Trent there in place, moaning on his cock. Keeping him full and helpless, clenching around him.
He’s affected, too, Trent can tell by the low noise he makes that’s almost a groan, and the way his hips rock just a little, like he wants to fuck Trent, too, but—he doesn’t. He sits there, and kisses up Trent’s neck, one hand anchored firmly on his hip, keeping him pinned.
Trent feels something light brush against his cock. Ted’s smiling against his skin. A teasing finger circles, just—playing with him.
He’s already split open and twitching around Ted’s cock, pressed close to him in pretty much every way possible, and Ted’s arms are around him and Ted’s on top of him and Trent is—enveloped. Pretty much every thought and feeling is just Ted, Ted, Ted, and even that light little touch is nearly enough to make Trent lose it.
“Fuck,” he managed, through the warm, pleasant haze of his mind—a relaxed fog of the thoughts only interrupted by the occasional electric spark of Ted teasing his clit—and let his head fall forward to rest against Ted’s shoulder. “Please, Ted.”
Ted chuckled—Trent could feel the low vibration of it in his chest—and said, “That’s the idea, sweetheart.”
Oh, fucking really? Trent would love to see it. God, Ted isn’t even moving and Trent’s already on the edge again.
Ted languidly pulls out, then presses back in—it can hardly be called a thrust, with how slow it is, but he does it again and again, fucking into Trent’s cunt almost lazily.
The pace is driving Trent insane, but it feels—good. So good, the way he’s filled as Ted presses so deeply inside him it makes his toes curl, then the slow drag out sending hot sparks up his spine.
He isn’t sure what kind of noises he’s making—something between ohhh and please, please, and normally he’d love to get out something coy (aren’t you going to fuck me, ted? properly?) or even just impatient, but at the moment, he’s got no words left. Coherent ones, anyway.
(And the tenderness of it, the teasing—that alone is nearly enough to bring Trent to tears.)
He thinks he moans out Ted’s name, muffled from how he’s still got his face buried in Ted’s shoulder, which at least hides the fact he truly feels like he’s on the verge of oversensitive tears, and he comes like that, on Ted Lasso’s cock, more being savored than fucked.
Ted holds him as he shudders through it, not moving anymore—he seems strained himself, he can’t not be close—and then pulls away, still half-holding Trent up as he does. Trent just lets him, because he’s sensitive and full and it feels very good.
“Aw, sweetheart,” Ted said, low and teasing even as he gently rubbed a thumb over his cheek, “coming all over yourself just from little ol’ me?”
“I wouldn’t,” Trent breathed, practically panting and barely managing this much, “call anything about you little.”
Ted laughed, then kissed him, gentle and slow. When they broke apart, Trent said, still all breathless and now crossing the line into beautifully, prettily needy, “Please keep going.”
Ted almost asks if he can handle it, but—Trent looks exceedingly certain and also, you know, Ted really wants to fuck him senseless.
He’s been teasing all night and Trent has taken it like a champ, but he’s a mess, poor thing, and his pussy is absolutely sloppy with it, and really, who is Ted to deny a pretty plea like that?
He really does plan to set a fast, rough pace, to pound him into the mattress, etc.—he does press Trent’s back to the bed, arms sprawled out over his head, still tied, and kiss him again—but he’s already close, and it’s hard to pull out at all when Trent’s all desperate like this and clenching so perfectly, and, well.
Ted’s hips move in tight, tiny circles, barely pulling out at all before grinding back into Trent. Trent’s gasping out some incoherent mix of Ted’s name and please, over and over, and his legs are wrapped tightly around Ted, like he’s trying to get him harder, deeper, and—
Ted’s pretty sure it’s the way Trent whines out something that sounds half like his name that does him in. Trent sure doesn’t seem to be complaining.
Trent is not complaining. Trent is, in fact, about to lose it, because Ted was smothering a groan into his neck and coming inside him and Trent can feel it and it’s—so fucking good.
When Ted’s finished, panting into his neck, Trent’s just. still lying there. Hands sprawled over his head, loosely bound together, hair messy and splayed all around him, still split open on a rather large cock, even if it’s softening. More embarrassing, perhaps—if Trent had the willpower to think about anything but the pulsing heat between his legs, anyway—is how sloppy he is down there, thighs slick and now cum beginning to drip down. It was a good thing they’d put down a towel.
Ted catches his breath then pushes himself more upright and kisses the corner of his slack lips. And then he pulls out—shocking a pretty little sound from him—and then replaces it with his fingers.
And if he’s a little rough, well, he’s been teasing Trent with gentle all night. He deserves a little reward.
Sure enough, he makes a choked-off little moan, and this time, when his hips move, Ted lets them. He lets Trent desperately grind his cock against Ted’s thumb, moves his hand with it until Trent is shuddering again, chasing the last of the aftershocks.
Ted slips his fingers out—more cum slips out with them, gosh, Trent really is a mess, huh?—and wipes them on the towel, then bends down to kiss Trent again.
This time Trent kisses back—albeit clumsily—and Ted smiles when he pulls away.
“You were amazing, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and he adjusts his position, rolling to lie beside Trent and then reaching up to push his fingers through Trent’s hair.
Trent hums, closing his eyes for a moment and enjoying it, turning to curl against Ted and give him a better angle. “Next time,” he says, almost a mumble, “It’s my turn to take care of you.”
“Oh, I enjoyed this plenty,” Ted says, which is completely true. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything hotter than Trent Crimm, lost in pleasure, coming on his cock again.
“Mm, I know,” Trent says, not opening his eyes, almost smugly.
Ted watches as his partner melts under hands stroking through his hair. He’s real sweet like this, fucked-out and relaxed.
Well, truth be told, he was always sweet, even if most people wouldn’t believe it. But it was more obvious like this, with the whole attitude fucked out of him (not that Ted didn’t love the attitude, too), just leaving him looking up at Ted all warm and pleased.
“Still,” Trent murmurs. Ted keeps playing with his hair, and he’s basically boneless now.
They’ll have to clean up, soon—falling asleep like this would not be pleasant—but for now, they bask in the afterglow, and take a moment to breathe.