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“Well? How's it look?”
Buck doesn't turn to Tommy's voice behind him. Hands on his hips, he continues to survey the main room of the cabin. It's cozy. Quaint. Woodsy in a way that's just aged enough to be genuine, and not some put-on aesthetic for the tourists.
“There's no bear skin rug.”
A grunt sounds from behind him. “Is that a contractual obligation?” Tommy asks.
“It's- it's the principle of the thing! How are we supposed to fuck in front of a roaring fire if there's no bear skin rug to fuck on?”
Tommy wheezes out a surprised laugh. Buck crosses his arms. His pout remains steadfast on his face, even when Tommy wraps his arms around him from behind and kisses his cheek, nuzzles at his jaw. The tip of his nose is still cold from outside.
“Sweetheart,” Tommy says, “bear skin rug or not: we are not fucking on the floor.”
“Well, it's not even an option now,” Buck grumbles, trying not to smile when Tommy laughs again.
“Whatever you say, babe.” Tommy pulls back – Buck misses his warmth immediately. “Now c'mon and help me with the luggage already, I'm not dragging our things through the snow by myself.”
Tommy smacks his ass before he walks away, and Buck chases him all the way back out to the rental car.
The resort they're at consists of a string of secluded cabins dotting the mountainside in a ring around a lake, overseen by an old lodge that provides equipment rentals and houses a small restaurant. One day, they rent a couple of pairs of skates and give the lake a go. They both end up completely embarrassing themselves – Buck can't balance to save his life, and Tommy can't figure out how to glide, choosing instead to clomp around until the next time Buck inevitably knocks him over.
Bruised, giggling, in a heap for the dozenth time, they call it quits early. Buck's back in his boots before Tommy even has his laces undone, and, well, he's been a little brother his entire life. When he dumps a handful of snow down Tommy's back and bolts, Tommy's startled shriek and his own cackling laughter carry him all the way back to the lodge.
“What part of ‘we're not fucking on the floor’ did you not hear?”
Buck grins against Tommy's clavicle and holds his fingers still at Tommy's fly. “We're not on the floor. What did you think all the blankets were about?”
Tommy scoffs under him – Buck tweaks his nipple, making him grunt, then soothes it with his tongue. Tommy spreads his hands across Buck's shoulder blades and sighs. Buck wants to bottle the sound.
The truth is, they are sort of on the floor. Earlier in the evening, Buck sent Tommy down to the lodge restaurant to pick up dinner so that he could pull every spare blanket, pillow, and cushion into a giant pile in front of the fireplace. He got the fire going, he set out a bottle of wine, he even turned off the overhead lights and lit some candles. It's romantic, is the point, which Tommy might see if he stopped being so focused on how they're technically on the floor.
“Besides,” Buck adds, switching to Tommy's other nipple and tugging at it with his teeth to hear him hiss, “you're the one on all the cushions. You're practically in a bed.”
Tommy hums and slips his fingers through Buck's hair. “What happened to needing a bear skin rug?”
“I, uh, I kind of reconsidered my stance on that?” Buck scrunches his face and rests his cheek on one of Tommy's pecs so he can look up at him. “I figure it, it'd be a little tacky to fuck you on a dead animal.”
Buck almost gets dislodged completely with how hard Tommy laughs. He crawls up Tommy's body and kisses the laughter from his lips until they're trading soft, sweet pecks.
“So, since we're officially carcass-free,” Buck nips Tommy's bottom lip for the way that makes him guffaw, “how about we get back to fucking in front of the roaring, extremely romantic fire?” Buck fiddles with the button above Tommy's fly again, and presses the backs of his fingers ever-so-slightly into the thick bulge of him under the denim.
“Hmm.” Tommy hitches his hips to press back against Buck's fingers; Buck grins and presses harder. “How do you ask nicely?”
“Please, Tommy, may I fuck you on the floor?”
Tommy's laughter bubbles out of him once again, and it's catching. They're both giggling into the kisses they trade, even as they help each other wiggle out of the rest of their clothes. The fire is hot against their skin, as close as they are to it, intensifying the heat between them as they press skin to skin and wrap their bodies up in one another.
Buck settles down against Tommy, cradled by his open legs and held close by his hands. He shifts until their cocks press together and moves them against each other in a slow, dry drag, and presses his open mouth to Tommy's to breathe in his sigh. He loves this, unabashedly; the pressure of their erections against each other, the languid push-and-pull buzzing gently in his gut, desire that hasn't yet become urgent. He's never made a mystery of how much he loves Tommy's dick, in any and all the ways he can get it.
“Evan,” Tommy murmurs, his voice gone low. He slides his hands down Buck's sides and back, cupping his ass and pulling Buck harder against himself. Buck kisses a trail from Tommy's jaw down his throat, presses one last lingering kiss at his pulse point, and lifts himself just enough to get a good look at how their cocks line up against each other.
“God, Tommy,” Buck whispers. The friction between them is easing slowly from the steady drip of pre-come; Buck happens to look down at just the right time to watch some blurt from the tip of his cock and slip down onto Tommy's, the trail joining them together. He wants to touch, but more than that, he wants to savour. He watches their pre-come mingle, watches drop after slow drop find its way between them and mix until there's no telling one from the other. There isn't any one and the other anymore – there's only them, inseparable.
“Evan,” Tommy says again, and Buck meets his gaze. It does something to him, stokes that fire in the furnace of him, to see Tommy look at him the way he does. “Come on and fuck me before I change my mind.”
Buck laughs and nuzzles Tommy’s jaw, loving how Tommy’s stubble rasps against his skin. “Yeah, okay, babe, I’ve got you,” he says. He nips at Tommy’s chin before pulling back to reach over to the side, under the mound of pillows and blankets to where he stored the lube. It takes a bit of searching, a bit of flailing his hand around, but he finds the bottle and sits back, raising it over his head triumphantly.
Underneath him, Tommy laughs so hard he squirms; he laughs so hard his face scrunches with it, deepening the lines around his eyes. Buck wants to reach out and touch, but he’s already got lube on his fingers, so he settles for slipping his hand down between them to pet at Tommy’s hole.
“Should’ve – ah – known you’d stashed that somewhere,” Tommy says. He wiggles his hips, pushing against the pad of Buck’s finger where it sits just shy of breaching him.
“You know me, always prepared,” Buck responds absentmindedly. His focus is drawn completely to the furl of Tommy’s hole against his fingers, how it twitches against them the more he drags them back and forth across it. Tommy’s legs widen as though offering more of himself, all of himself, asking so sweetly and wordlessly for Buck to give him more.
Buck obliges, sliding two of his fingers into the inviting warmth of Tommy’s body. He bends to kiss Tommy’s pleased sighs out of his mouth, sipping them down and letting every soft moan reverberate down his throat and into his chest. The fire is a warm comfort at their sides but Tommy still shivers when Buck circles his prostate; when Buck repeats the motion, Tommy’s hands fly to Buck’s shoulders, the back of his neck, his hair, grasping for a hold that will keep him close. Buck rests more of his weight on Tommy and in response, Tommy clutches him tighter.
“Ready?” Buck whispers against Tommy’s lips, an unknowable span of time later, stilling his fingers. Tommy settles under him slowly, gradually, until the only movement between them is the rapid rise and fall of their chests against each other.
Tommy pulls Buck into a hard, closed-mouth kiss. His body ripples around Buck’s fingers and Buck can’t tell which sensation is making him feel like all the air has left his lungs.
“Ready,” Tommy finally mumbles against Buck’s lips.
Buck stays as close as he can as he finds the lube again and slicks himself up. He takes himself in hand, looks down, and loses all capacity for higher thought at the sight of his cockhead pressed to Tommy’s hole, itself shiny with lube and pink with stimulation. He nudges his hips forward, tapping them together over and over, hypnotized by how Tommy clenches in anticipation every time he gets close.
“Evan, please,” Tommy begs, breathlessly. Buck soothes him with his free hand, rubbing his thigh. He tucks his hand under Tommy’s knee and hitches it up his own waist, putting Tommy’s hips at a better angle.
“Okay, yeah,” he murmurs. He sits up a little, setting his knees in a better position, and slowly starts to feed his cock into Tommy’s body.
The moment the head of Buck’s cock is tucked inside of him, Tommy lets out a high, stuttering groan and arches his back, his eyes closed and brow furrowed. Jesus, but he’s a sight, his body pulled taut with pleasure already, just from the feeling of Buck demanding space inside him. Buck looks down in wonder as he feeds his dick into the silky heat of Tommy’s body inch by inch, until Tommy’s taken all Buck has to give and is laid out insensate with need before him.
Before Buck gets a chance to move, Tommy’s tugging him back down to press their bodies as close together as they can get. The firelight glows golden against Tommy’s skin, highlights the sweat along his forehead and in the hairy valley of his chest, a temptation that Buck is utterly unable to resist. He licks up that trail between Tommy’s pecs, relishing the wiry hair and bursts of salty musk against his tongue. Tommy clenches around his cock and Buck groans against Tommy’s Adam’s apple.
“Please, please move, Evan, god-” Tommy cuts off with a gasp when Buck rolls his hips. He’s not at the best angle, but Tommy’s nails are digging into his shoulders and his legs are a vice around Buck’s waist. Buck isn’t going anywhere – he’s not going to fight what Tommy wants, not when Tommy’s so eager, letting out sweet little moans every time Buck bottoms out inside him.
They’re too wrapped up in each other to have much leverage. Buck’s thrusts never take him out far from Tommy’s tight wet heat; instead, he sets up a slow, rolling rhythm, rocking his hips back and forth, a constant, dragging reminder of how deeply he fits inside Tommy’s body. Buck pulls both of Tommy’s legs even higher around him, finally allowing him to grind against Tommy’s prostate.
The heat of the fire engulfs them, sits around and in the scant space between them. Sweat drips from Buck to Tommy, to the blankets beneath them, building friction as they move against each other. Tommy’s cock is thick and volcanic against Buck’s abdomen, hot to the touch and leaking pre-come molten into Buck’s skin. Buck takes one of his hands from where he’s still holding Tommy’s legs up, letting go of a meaty thigh to wrap a tight channel around his dick. Tommy starts to tremble underneath him, around him, and Buck lets out a gut-punched groan at how much impossibly tighter he gets.
“Tommy, god, you feel so- so good,” Buck groans against Tommy’s neck. He lifts his head just far enough to capture Tommy’s lips in a biting kiss, their teeth clacking against each other as Buck puts everything he can into the motion of his hips. The head of his cock grinds sharper, harder into Tommy’s prostate. Tommy’s nails drag down the expanse of his back, spurring him on.
“Don’t stop, Evan, fuck, ah- ” Buck tightens his fist and Tommy whines. His hips twitch and jump, up into Buck’s fist and down into Buck’s cock. “I’m almost- I’m so- oh-” Buck bites at Tommy’s lower lip and speeds the movements of his hand, of his hips. Tommy gasps underneath him like he can’t get enough air. Like the fire building between them has eaten their oxygen.
Buck grinds his cock into Tommy deep, deeper. Whispers “Come on come on come on- ” into his neck. Pushes his thumb carelessly hard under the head of Tommy’s dick on every upstroke. Buck’s still dizzy from the way that makes Tommy cry out when Tommy tenses, tightens, and releases, his voice breaking on a moan, his cock erupting over Buck’s hand. The rhythmic squeeze of Tommy’s muscles around him are all Buck needs to follow him over the edge, his orgasm hitting him like flashover, overwhelming his senses, pleasure licking him in flames up his spine.
When Buck comes back to himself, his hips are still moving, a stuttering, humping pace, shoving his spend up deep into Tommy. As he stills, Tommy whines, uses his heels against Buck’s ass to push him back into motion. Buck starts up slow, shallow, his cock half-soft in the grasp of Tommy’s body.
Buck presses gentle kisses to the side of Tommy’s neck. “You want me to keep going, huh? Wanna feel me get hard again, want me to fuck you so full you’re dripping with it for days?”
Tommy shudders and clutches him tighter. “Jesus, Evan, yes- yeah, I want it,” Tommy says. Buck keeps up the gentle motion of his hips, concentrating on keeping himself from accidentally slipping out. Tommy sighs and brings a hand up to lazily card his fingers through Buck’s hair and hold Buck against his neck. Buck gets the message – he licks a long stripe up Tommy’s skin, then picks a spot and starts diligently sucking a mark into it.
“Yeah, it’s- that’s good, sweetheart,” Tommy whispers. He scratches Buck’s scalp and the sensation pings down Buck’s nervous system before settling in his groin, his cock giving a valiant twitch inside Tommy.
Buck rides the edge of oversensitivity like he’s balanced on the blade of a knife. He tries to err on the side of just enough, which is difficult enough to achieve alone, never mind when he’s trying not to lose himself in the plush, slick pull of Tommy’s hole. If he does this right, he knows he can get hard again. Knowing that that’s what Tommy wants helps him focus, and before long, Buck feels himself thickening. He moves down Tommy’s neck and starts marking the unblemished skin there.
Where Buck’s post-orgasm sensitivity can be coaxed back around to full arousal, Tommy tends to be one-and-done. He’s also less prone to over-sensitivity, a fact that Buck is thankful for as he starts to drive his rapidly-filling cock deeper and deeper inside of him. Tommy sighs out a happy moan, the same satisfied way he sounds when Buck gives him a massage, or when he’s tried the first bite of a particularly decadent cake.
“Does that feel good, Evan?” Tommy asks. He’s still running his fingers through Buck’s hair, still holding him close and tight with his legs. “I love how – mm – how you fill me up.”
Buck whines against Tommy’s neck. “I need- Tommy, more, please,” he begs. He tries to lift himself up, tries to reposition to get better leverage to really be able to give it to Tommy and not just rut into him in the shortest little thrusts – but Tommy holds him down, the grip of his arms and legs suddenly iron.
“Aw, what do you need, baby? You need more than this?” Tommy asks, and he clenches around Buck, drawing out another needy whine from somewhere Buck doesn’t recognize within himself. “I’m not enough for you, is that it? I’m letting you fuck me and it’s not enough?”
“No, no no no, Tommy you’re- you feel-” Emotion sticks in Buck’s throat, chokes his words and he loses them immediately, unable to grasp a thought aside from the need to move more, faster, harder than he’s capable of, pressed so close like this. He pushes through the block and lets out a choked, wordless sob. The short, gentle grind that utterly consumed him just minutes ago isn’t enough, not anymore, not to get him off.
“How do I feel? Is it good? Why don’t you come, if I feel so good?” Tommy goads, and frustration prickles tears behind Buck’s eyes.
“You- I- it’s good, it’s good, Tommy, please.” Buck doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say anymore. He’s so lost in needing more he can’t figure out the words to get it. “Please, please let me, please-”
“Well,” Tommy says, dragging out the syllable. “Since you asked so nicely...”
All at once, Tommy’s arms and legs fall away. A relieved sob shakes its way out of Buck’s throat as he pushes himself up on his hands and rabbits into Tommy. He moves without rhythm, without mind for Tommy’s pleasure, overtaken by his own desperate, driving need. When he comes, it’s a dizzying relief. He collapses, aiming to land mostly-not-on-top-of Tommy, and more or less succeeds.
For a while, the only sound in the room is the crackling of the fire, the occasional pop from the wood. Tommy’s fingers are in his hair again; Buck doesn’t want to think about what a horrific mess he must look like. He shuffles and turns, so his face rests on Tommy’s bicep and his arm curls around Tommy’s middle.
“Good?” Tommy asks.
“Guh,” Buck responds. Tommy laughs and scratches his nails down the back of Buck’s neck.
“Me too,” he says, his smile softening.
Buck rubs his thumb back and forth, ping-ponging between two freckles on Tommy’s chest. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Not at all.” Tommy’s expression fades a bit, furrows into concern, and he asks, “Was that okay?”
“That was so okay I think my brain’s leaking out my ears.” Buck raises his hand to cup Tommy’s face, and traces his eyebrow with a finger as Tommy’s expression melts through relief back into amusement.
“Funny you should mention leaking... ”
That pulls a shocked laugh from Buck’s core. Tommy looks pleased with himself over it; even more so when Buck dissolves into giggles and has to press his face into Tommy’s chest.
“Subtle,” Buck says between giggles. He drags his fingers down blindly to trace the curve of Tommy’s grin – Tommy turns and presses a kiss to Buck’s fingertips. “Alright, let’s get cleaned up and reconvene these cuddles in the giant bed we’re paying too much for.”
“Deal,” Tommy says, and kisses Buck’s fingers one more time.
In a minute, they’ll get up on shaky-old-man knees. They’ll blow out the candles, and Tommy will make a joke about fire safety – it won’t be very funny, but Buck will laugh anyway. They’ll pull each other into the shower and clean each other up, then they’ll slip into bed still-damp and curl up into each other, skin-to-skin-to-skin-to-skin. Outside, the wind will howl with frost and snow; inside, they’ll fall asleep to the sounds of each other’s breathing. And the next morning, they’ll wake up together and the world will feel limitless.
For now, if they take a few more minutes to enjoy each other’s company, surrounded by blankets on the floor and covered in each other’s sweat and come, if they keep putting it all off just a little more, well – who’s to tell? The fire burns on, the wind whistles past, and their hearts beat together. For just a while longer.