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Last Respite

Summary:

Pete Reynolds, a traveling globe salesman, takes a detour on his way home to visit his secret male lover.

Notes:

This fic was inspired by this post: https://phantomofthegallifreyanopera.tumblr.com/post/622679050094346240/so-in-globesmen-you-know-how-when-hes-selling-the

By phantomofthegallifreyanopera on tumblr

 

If you enjoy this, please leave a comment or come say hi on Tumblr at fandomtransmandom :-)

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

    Pete lifted a half-hearted wave to the fellas as he trudged his way to the car. 

    “Tell the wife ‘Hello’ for me!,” Mike shouted over his shoulder. Pete could barely summon the energy to nod in acknowledgment. They’d been on the road for almost two straight months and as he crawled behind the wheel of his boat of a vehicle his joints groaned in protest. Delicately placing his hat on the passenger seat, he took a brief glance in the rear view mirror, caught off-guard when the eyes of a haunted man stared back. He stared at the steering wheel, finger poised on the ignition. You said last time would be the last time . He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, turning the key and pointing the car uptown before lighting a fresh cigarette.

    As Pete rolled up to the small apartment complex, he looked around carefully and pulled into the alleyway to park. Spending a long moment in the car staring at the familiar wooden steps that led to the second floor, he extinguished his cigarette and immediately lit another, the familiar burn cascading down his throat. A plume of smoke trailed through his nostrils, dancing on the early autumn breeze. Go home, just go home. But he knew he’d come this far, and at this point he wouldn’t turn back.

    His loafers, shine long-lost, dragged up each step, the fourth one creaking as it always did, as if it were there to squeak out his secrets. Reaching the door, he tugged on his lapel, ticked his bow tie straight, and ran his hands over his deep brown hair before lifting an ashen hand to the door. 

    Two tepid knocks. Some muffled rumblings. Never once had he approached this door and found the room vacant, though he never advertised his arrival.  Hearing the scratch of the chain sliding loose, Pete fought to keep his hands still. Peering through the opening door was a slightly younger man. Handsome, a face engrained deep with character, and soft, sandy hair worn a bit too long. 

He crossed his arms and leaned against the door jamb. “Why, hello there, Peter.”

“Hello Daniel…” Pete said, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t meet his eyes. Pete knew they were a beautiful, liquid emerald that flayed him wide open and would make him crumble. So instead he studied the chipping maroon paint just below the door lock. 

    “It’s been awhile,” Daniel drawled, his eyes traveling up and down Pete’s ratty woolen suit. “You’re looking a little rough, Peter.”

    Pete’s nose flared. Daniel was always like that. Never afraid to say things to his face. Anyone else wouldn’t get away with it, but for some reason Pete just shifted his weight sheepishly from side to side. Similarly, Daniel was the only one who called him Peter. 

    “I suppose you want to come in?” Daniel said flatly. Pete still stared at the chips of peeling paint. Pressing his eyes closed, he nodded softly. Wordlessly, Daniel turned and walked into the tiny studio, Pete shuffling along behind and pulling the door shut. 

    Now that he was here, surrounded by the tastefully appointed décor in this tiny room, what little reserves of energy that were holding his fragile frame together fell away. Pete felt himself sway on the spot, fingers grasping and finding nothing. 

Daniel turned around and saw the grimace crossing Pete’s face. “Oh, come here ,” he murmured, taking Pete by the shoulders and guiding him to an overstuffed chair in the corner. Pete collapsed into it, his limbs enveloped by the fabric and his head lolling back. He looked up at Daniel through his eyelashes, and Daniel slowly lowered himself on top, straddling him, apparently unfazed by his cigarette-infused suit. Daniel brought his face close, nose grazing Pete’s before their lips met, soft, unhurried, but bold.

They held one another for a moment, Daniel’s hands slowly creeping up to ensconce themselves in Pete’s hair. Pete noticed he always seemed determined to make sure it was out of place. Pete’s arms, heavy though they were, found Daniel’s waist, and rejoiced in the warmth of his agile frame as he pulled his hips close.

Daniel’s tongue slid slyly between his lips to mingle with Pete’s, a slow rhythm building between their eager mouths as their heads swam lazily back and forth.  Daniel snaked one hand from Pete’s hair down his chest, beginning to explore the growing hardness between his legs through the rough wool of his slacks. 

Pete’s breath caught and he broke their kiss for a moment, Daniel brushing their cheeks together to feel the stubble scratch his own face. Kissing Pete’s neck, he fiddled with the button and zipper of his pants, Pete’s chest rising and falling with greater intensity as he freed his cock. Stroking slowly, Pete emitted a high-pitched, keening whine, the likes of which Daniel never quite heard before.

Retreating, he held Pete’s face in his hands, forcing him to meet his eyes. 

“Oh Peter, you’re just exhausted aren’t you?”

    Those futility-darkened blue eyes looked back at him, nearly hollow, old beyond their years. Pete fought, jaw clenched, trying to keep it together, but the way Daniel looked at him, piercing, exacting, made him want to admit the defeat he ran from for the better part of a year. His body began to tremble and try as he might, a few errant tears tip-toed down his cheeks as Daniel leaned in and held him close, peppering his forehead with kisses. 

    They stayed that way for a long time, and then Daniel captured his lips again, hand resuming its ministrations on Pete’s cock, sliding up and down with delicacy. Separating to kiss Pete’s neck, Daniel let out a breathy “ Peter ” before dislodging himself from his lap and sliding to the floor on his knees. 

    Pete looked at Daniel kneeling before him, fingers trailing through his sandy hair and grazing his sharp cheekbones. Daniel examined him softly before leaning forward, eyelids falling closed, and taking the tip of Pete’s cock into his mouth. Pete’s head fell back at the sensation of Daniel’s tongue wrapping its way around the head of his cock, teasing and tickling him, drawing him out as his breath quickened. Daniel began sliding up and down, taking more of his length into his hot, wet throat, and Pete found himself digging the heels of his loafers into the carpet and his fingers into Daniel’s hair.

    Oh yes, yes, my darling .” Panting, Pete’s hips rocked forth to meet Daniel’s mouth. “Please, don’t stop.”

    Daniel increased his pace, using his left hand to fondle Pete’s balls and taking his lead from the frantic thrusting of Pete’s cock. The moans reverberating around the apartment sounded almost like sobs now, and Daniel could tell Pete was getting close.

    Fuck, darling, yes. I love your mouth! Please, yes, darling! I’m going to cum! Fuck, FUCK! ” Shuddering and whining, Pete’s last pulses cascaded into the back of Daniel’s throat and he swallowed gladly, feeling every drop of tension evaporate from this deceptively delicate man’s fragile form. Pulling off, Daniel returned Pete’s now softening cock back into his slacks and zipped him up, as Pete’s hands didn’t seem to be of much use at the moment. He crawled into his lap, nestling into the crook of his neck, warmed when Pete’s strong arms enveloped him. Pete’s breathing slowed, his mouth dropping open as he finally slipped off into slumber. Daniel looked at him. For the first time that day, and Daniel expected for much, much longer than that, Pete looked peaceful.

 

Notes:

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