Work Text:
Dale comes to him straight from work.
Tim greets him at the door in his shorts and an old footy shirt. It’s hot still, even at 9pm. The cicadas have quieted down a bit, but they’ve been screaming their heads off all day. Still, Tim can hear a handful of them still going for it, calling out for their mates in the inky blue of the Melbourne night.
Dale is handsome as always in his work suit, tall and sturdy with his hair neatly combed into his newsreader style. He is also holding flowers, and Tim feels his stomach dance at the sight of him extending them to him, a bashful grin on his face.
Dale waits until they’re inside the flat with the door closed to kiss him, sweet and gentle. He holds the flowers between their bodies as he kisses Tim, and the plastic wrapping around the stems crinkles.
“Hello,” Dale says when they pull apart, his voice soft, maybe a little hoarse for working all day.
“Hi there,” Tim says through a smile, “these for me?”
Dale blushes, dips his head. “Yeah, hope you like them. The woman at the counter at the superette told me my girlfriend would be very happy when I came home with them.”
Tim cocks his head to the side, grins. “Well, let me know what your girlfriend thinks then,” he says, and Dale rolls his eyes with such a mix of exasperation and fondness that Tim is forced to kiss him again.
They sit on the couch for a bit, talking about their respective days. Tim’s got a beer in his hand, the other hand curled around the back of Dale’s neck, a record spinning in the background. It’s perfect, just perfect, and is made even more so when Dale puts his own beer down on the coffee table and slides his hand up Tim’s bare thigh, and leans in for a kiss.
Tim meets him enthusiastically, craning his arm back to safely deliver his beer out of harm’s way before pulling Dale into his arms. It just feels so good to have him close, Dale’s warm solid body and his soft lips and his softer hair, all for Tim to touch and hold and kiss. Dale grips his thigh tighter, opens his mouth, lets his tongue slip in, which kickstarts Tim’s libido from 0 to 100 in about two seconds flat.
Dale’s other hand winds into Tim’s hair, lightly tugging at it. Tim groans against his lips, pushing into the feeling like a cat straining into a petting hand.
He goes to stand, pulling Dale with him. He could fuck him on the couch, sure, he would fuck him on the living room or up against the kitchen counter or over the armchair. But really what he knows he wants to do, even though he can’t say it out loud because it sounds stupid and cheesy, is to make love to Dale, slow and and deep and long in his bedroom, in his bed, which could be their bed one day-
Tim cuts off that train of thought and tugs Dale backwards, walking him through the flat, blindly opening his bedroom door and manoeuvring him through, steering him gently towards the bed with a hand on his waist.
Dale sits down as soon as the back of his knees hit the bed, face tilted up towards Tim with his face open and flushed, eyes wide.
With his lips parted and his thighs spread, erection visible through his nice sensible work slacks, Dale looks somehow debauched already, impressively so since they haven’t even really started. Dale can’t seem to take his eyes off him, flicking from his eyes to Tim’s mouth, at his throat, down his torso and down to his crotch. Tim is hard too, has been since Dale wound his fingers into his hair and stuck his tongue down his throat, and it is so, so obvious in his shorts.
Tim slides his t-shirt off and flicks it unceremoniously to the side, takes a step forward so he is standing between Dale’s knees. Dale swallows, audible in the quiet of the bedroom, and his hands twitch, like he wants to put them on Tim’s hips, but they stay gripped on the side of the bed. He looks up at Tim. The flush in his cheeks is now down his neck, and Tim thinks maybe it goes all the way down to his chest, but Dale’s got his shirt buttoned all the way up and his tie neatly fastened like the nice boy he is, so he can’t be sure.
Tim smiles down at him and cups Dale’s cheek with one hand. He strokes his thumb across Dale’s lower lip, which trembles slightly as Dale swallows again, louder this time. He’s so - sweet, like this, so responsive, staring up at Tim with those ridiculously blue eyes.
Tim kneels down between his legs so they can be on the same level when he leans in to kiss him, soft at first, but following Dale’s lead as he sighs at the contact and opens his mouth. He hums through his nose as Tim slides his tongue across his lower lip and into his mouth. Tim decides this is the perfect moment to multitask, and starts undoing the carefully formed knot of his tie while he kisses him.
Dale’s hands come up at that and hover at Tim’s waist for a second before he places them on the wings of Tim’s shoulder blades, holding him close. His hands are huge and gentle against the bare skin of Tim’s back.
Tim smiles into the kiss as he successfully pulls the tie apart, and pulls it off Dale’s neck with a light tug, chucks it down the bed. He gets to work on his shirt buttons straight away, and like he guessed, that blush goes all the way down.
He pulls away from Dale’s mouth to press his lips to the skin of his neck. Dale shivers as Tim follows the line of his neck down to the hollow in the base of his throat, and then down further as he pushes Dale’s shirt off his shoulders.
“You look amazing,” Tim says with full sincerity, and if possible Dale’s blush darkens, but the bashfulness doesn’t stop him from grinning, pleased at the compliment. He really means it though. Dale is broad shouldered, muscular in the I-grew-up-on-a-farm-and-my-arms-are-just-like-that-now kind of way, and his skin is soft. He smells so good. Tim could just stick his face into his neck and breathe him in and be content, but there are more pressing matters at hand.
“What do you want?” Tim says softly, one hand on Dale’s cheek, the other stroking the skin of his waist. Dale swallows, smiles, tilts his head forward.
The first few times they did this, Dale was pretty quiet. Tim was happy to take the lead - Dale seemed pretty nervous, almost virginal - until he had told Tim about what had happened with Adam, and then his reticence in bed and general jitteriness took on a new dimension. One of shame, of hurt, of his desire used against him. Tim can feel it sometimes, can almost hear Dale’s thoughts when they’re lying together in bed afterward, skin to skin.
He knows he has to tread lightly there. He was shit-scared his first time with a guy too, clumsy and teenaged and ready to go off after 30 seconds of an in hindsight pretty average handjob. But afterward he had felt so happy, because it had felt so right, like that was exactly what he was meant to be doing, and who gives a fuck what anyone else thought.
Tim wants more than anything to give Dale that - that feeling of safety and of freedom all at once.
When Dale says “I want you,” and slides their mouths together again, and tightens his grip on Tim’s shoulders, hauling him in so they’re chest to chest and hip to hip, Tim thinks Dale might just let him.
They fall back onto the bed, Dale pulling Tim on top of him, scooching his hips up so he can steer Tim into the vee of his spread legs.
Tim kisses him, and kisses him and kisses him; his lips, his cheek, his ear, his neck and down to his shoulder. He presses his hips down, rubs his hard dick against Dale’s, smiles against his mouth when Dale whines and pushes his hips up hard in retaliation. He pulls his head up in victory, and stares down at Dale.
“Alright there?” Tim says, eyebrow cocked. Dale furrows his back at him, and then suddenly slides his hands from his back right down the swell of Tim’s arse, gives him a nice hard squeeze that has Tim gasping.
“Are you?” Dale says, little shit that he is, a grin spreading across his face. Well. That simply won’t do.
Tim gets his hand between them, runs it down to the sparse trail of coarse blond hair just below Dale’s bellybutton. He watches Dale’s face as he gives the hair a little tug, sees his grin fall a little bit but also sees his pupils dilate. Tim grins; slides his hand down further, right onto the zip of Dale’s pants. They’re not the ones he gave Dale shit about in Darwin, they’re nice, a soft navy twill, and they have to come off right fucking now.
Tim flicks open the button and pulls down the zip unceremoniously, so he yank the pants off entirely and bat them off the bed. Dale’s left sprawled in his boxers, and Tim rubs his palm over his hard dick, feeling the warmth radiate through the thin fabric. Dale is so hard Tim can smell it, rich and tangy, so he leans down and presses a kiss to Dale’s dick through his shorts.
Dale’s hips twitch and he grunts, quiet, and Tim looks up at him through his lashes from where he’s kneeled between his legs. Dale is biting his lip, clearly making an effort to hold still, but reaches up and brushes an errant curl off of Tim’s forehead so they can look directly at each other. Tim grins and Dale mirrors him with a smile, inhaling deeply and settling back into the pillow behind his head.
He looks so good, all blonde hair and endlessly blue eyes and bare chest stretching out on the sheets. Tim dips into his shorts, pulls him out. Licks around the head of his dick, already wet, and tastes the sea, musk, tastes Dale. Tim inhales through his nose and takes his cock into his mouth, only halfway at first. He curls his fist around the base of his dick, lets the saliva in his mouth drip down his length a bit so he can stroke him smoothly into his mouth.
Dale moans, quiet but long, when Tim goes all the way down, his nose pressing to the base of his cock and the soft patch of hair there. If there is anything Tim fucking loves, it’s this: Dale’s cock in his mouth, his hand in his hair, the knowledge that he’s giving him something so good, taking care of him in such a specific, devotional way. The weight in his mouth, Dale’s hums and moans as he works him, the taste on his tongue - it’s meditative, almost.
He can tell Dale’s starting to get close when his breath starts to hitch and he starts to tug at Tim’s hair. He goes harder, hollowing his cheeks, pinning Dale’s thighs and hips down with his forearms so he just has to lie there and take it.
Dale moans his name when he comes hard and hot into Tim’s mouth. Tim looks up just in time to see him tip over the edge - his chest is heaving, and his eyes are rolled back in his head, and that combination sends a zip of satisfaction and lust from Tim’s mouth all the way down to his dick, which he has been not paying much attention to but is still raring to go.
Tim swallows, salt on his tongue, and lets Dale tug him up for a kiss. They break apart, giggling a little, high and horny and satisfied. Dale pushes up against him, gets a hand between their bodies and wraps it around Tim’s dick. His hand really is fucking huge - he can wrap it all the way around him, palm covering his length and thumb playing with his head. His free hand comes up, cups Tim’s cheek. Dale kisses him again, hard and open-mouthed, pushing his tongue into Tim’s mouth.
“I want you in me,” he murmurs, quiet but with a conviction that Tim knows is hard won. The first time - it was kind of unspectacular - they both lasted about 30 seconds and Dale started crying when Tim pulled out, and even though he told Tim it was good crying, Tim still lay in bed afterwards, watching Dale sleep, with a tightness in his chest that was only loosened the next morning when Dale said he wanted to try again and rolled the condom on Tim himself and wrapped his legs around his waist. He didn’t cry that time, but Tim kind of wanted to upon seeing his open, blissful face as he came.
Tim kisses him, because he can’t not, and blindly reaches into his absolute tip of a bedside table drawer and pulls out lube and a condom. He yanks his shorts off unceremoniously, and wiggles his eyebrows at Dale’s snort when Dale realises he is commando under them.
He slides back down Dale’s body, licking the sweat on his torso, and hooks Dale’s thighs over his shoulders. Dale is spread out in front of him, cock still wet from Tim’s saliva. He pushes Dale’s hips back further and slides his fingers down and then behind his perineum, savouring the little gasp of breath from Dale as he rubs his fingers across his entrance.
Tim lubes his fingers and slides them across him, letting Dale adjust his legs so he’s comfortable. He starts with one finger, slow and careful, just barely moving. For good measure he licks at the tip of Dale’s dick, which is half hard again already.
One finger becomes two, becomes three, becomes a slow steady push and pull rhythm. Dale is tight and hot around him and his whole chest is bright red. His mouth is dropped open. His eyes are fucking huge. Tim feels so fucking good, so alive. Dale’s perfect. Tim wants to get inside him, to make him shake and moan his name and come all over himself.
Dale whispers his name, and Tim pulls out of his reverie long enough to slide up his torso and kiss his mouth. Dale presses a condom into his hand, murmurs that he is ready, that he wants it. Tim rolls it on, Dale panting for breath under him.
The tiny pause to perform the almost administrative task of the condom clears Tim’s head, so when he looks up, he feels a hot rush of desire at the look on Dale’s face. Dale is spread out beneath him, wet and ready and wanting. His dick is fully hard again, angled up towards his stomach. Tim still can’t believe this is fucking real, that Dale’s in his bed, that Dale wants him inside him, to give it to him.
He gets Dale on his stomach, tilting his hips up so he can slide his dick along the crack of his arse. Tim’s chest is pressed to his back, kissing the back of Dale’s neck, his ear, asking him if he's ready, if he wants it, making him say please, give it to me, I want it, I need it, Tim, c’mon-
Tim is kind, so of course he’ll give Dale what he wants, especially when he’s asked so nicely. He pushes in, just a little, letting Dale get used to it, holding his hips so he can control the pace. He watches Dale’s shoulders tighten and hears his breath catch in his throat.
He gives him a second and when he still doesn't relax, Tim puts a hand on the back of his neck. Dale’s shoulders instinctively sink to the bed and Tim murmurs, "there you go baby, that's right," as he pushes in deeper, still slow and steady.
Dale’s left hand is clenched in the sheets, his right twisted behind him so he can touch Tim’s thigh. Tim is all the way in now, balls deep, hips flush against Dale’s arse. They both shakily inhale and exhale in unison.
Tim holds still, muscles in his stomach clenching, waiting until the last of the tension leaves Dale’s shoulders. Dale tentatively rocks back against him, then immediately clenches around him and lets out this high, tight moan, like he is startled by how good he feels.
He looks back over his shoulder, looks right into Tim’s eyes as he rocks back a second time, more confident and smooth with his movement. Tim can only grasp at his hips and his arse and hold on while Dale sets the pace, grinding forward to meet him.
Dale’s head drops back down between his shoulders as Tim gets the rhythm and starts thrusting slow and sure and thorough. He looks so good like this, with the long muscles in his back and shoulders and that tiny little waist tightening and stretching. It’s hypnotising, the way his body moves while he’s getting fucked like this, arse up, face down in the pillow, making these little noises that Tim wants to record somehow.
Their bodies go on autopilot, chasing what feels good. Tim fees compelled, duty bound to tell Dale that he looks so good, is taking him so well, baby, fuck, that’s so good-
He leans down, presses his chest to Dale’s back so he can be even closer to him. Tim breathes in the scent of his skin and his hair, now damp with sweat and stuck to the nape of his neck.
Tim’s brain and his spine are fucking melting, and he wants to come so badly, but he wants Dale to come more, so he slides his hand between Dale’s body and the bed and rubs his cock, and kisses at his neck and cheek until Dale tilts his head back so they can kiss on the mouth.
Tim wants him very very badly, he wants Dale to come and to make that noise that he makes and for him to sleep over in his bed, for him to make him coffee and eggs in the morning, for them to spend the weekend together, watching crap tv and listening to music and having sex, to kiss him goodbye on Monday morning when they go off to work, he wants, he wants, he wants him.
It only takes a few more tight strokes of Tim’s hand until Dale is shaking and moaning and spurting off again. Dale’s arse clenches so hot and tight around him that Tim is pulled right off the edge of the cliff with him, brain short circuiting as his whole body goes stiff and he comes deep and hard inside Dale.
They lie like that for a while, Tim still in him, until Dale shifts his shoulders so Tim knows he needs to move. He pulls out, gently, hand on Dale’s sacrum. He rubs his palm up and down his spine to soothe him.
Dale watches him over his shoulder as Tim gets up, disposes of the condom, grabs a facecloth from the bathroom so he can clean them both up. Tim can just see his right eye, the corner of his mouth quirked into a little satisfied smile.
When he climbs back into the bed, Dale turns over onto his back, and opens his arms so Tim can crawl into them. They lie like that in the dim lamplit room, not saying much. Dale’s fingers are gentle, stroking his shoulder blades and down his spine. Tim’s nose brushes his armpit, breathes him in, his warm musky smell, his heartbeat thudding right into his ear.
The cicadas outside continue to sing their song deep into the night.