When Tomorrow Runs Out
[500 Themes: 490]
It's been a busy past couple of days.
That isn't to say being a hero isn't always busy, but it's been downright taxing. Taxing to the point that they rushed out the door the day prior – Barnaby far from having time to entirely do his hair, much to his chagrin, and Kotetsu unshaven and harried – and that night, returned home, collapsing into bed without a single thought.
Barnaby wakes the next morning, sighing as he rolls over, reaching for his glasses on the nightstand. They're gone – something he's fairly used to, a trick Kotetsu has gotten into the habit of playing. Without a doubt, they're on Kotetsu's nightstand instead, moved there at some point to encourage the very thing he's doing right now: grumbling, wriggling to the side, reaching over Kotetsu in an attempt to grab his glasses and make it to the bathroom.
It doesn't happen, not when Kotetsu rolls him over, shoves him onto his back with his face rubbing into Barnaby's neck. Two days minus a shave and he's stubbly, rough against Barnaby's skin, and the blond both shivers and flinches away, hands sliding to Kotetsu's chest to wearily shove.
"Hurts, let me up."
"Never heard you complaining before," Kotetsu murmurs, arms tightly slung about Barnaby's waist as he rubs his face against the skin of his shoulder. His lips are warm over it, too, parted just enough to lick and nip slightly, tugging at pale skin that's sure to be abused by how rough an unkept beard can be.
Barnaby feels himself quiver a bit, no matter how he wants to resist.
He tries not to think of the times he's jerked himself off to the thought of Kotetsu's face buried in his neck, biting and marking him, that stupid beard of his rubbing into his flesh. Another shudder, and Kotetsu is grinning against his skin, the scent of him heavy and musky in Barnaby's nose as his fingers are creeping down his waist to pluck at the band of his boxers, making it pleasantly sting when it snaps back.
"Mmmm. Lie back."
There's no arguing, really, not when Kotetsu is kissing his neck again, biting at his collarbone, because Kotetsu always likes to bite, likes to mark him, and Barnaby twitches with anticipation, curls his fingers through Kotetsu's hair as the man slides down his body, nuzzling down his stomach and along one hip. Barnaby sucks in a sharp breath as the older man's teeth catch on the elastic of his underwear before they're tugged down entirely, and damn it, if he isn't already harder than he probably should be just from a little nuzzling and kissing. It's maddening what Kotetsu can do to him, especially when he's sort of… ruggedly unshaven and grabbing at him first thing in the morning when such things as walls are nonexistent –
Not that he'd want any walls to 'protect' himself from this man, especially when he's nuzzling along the inside of Barnaby's thighs next, beard scraping along sensitive skin that clings to sculpted muscle, and Barnaby feels his toes curl, hears his own breath hitch hard and long.
Barnaby swears Kotetsu is more evil, more of a tease than he'd ever normally let on, and moments like this prove it. His hands are broad and strong, grasping Barnaby's thighs, pushing and holding them apart as he licks a hot stripe up the length of his cock, and Barnaby is shuddering, twisting in his grasp already, lifting clenched fist to his own mouth to bite down into his knuckles and squeeze his eyes shut, because he can't see clearly anyway and it's only dizzying to imagine the blur between his legs as his lover, plain and clearly in sight instead, devilish first thing in the morning and mussed and unkempt and ah, fuck – his tongue is lapping at him, lips parting to suck on him, messy and unpracticed but good.
Every muscle in his body is strung taut, whipcord sinew bringing his calves to tense almost painfully as his toes curl into the bed and his teeth gnash into his own knuckles. He aches as Kotetsu's mouth works him, and there's no hope of any lasting endurance when all he can think of is how good it feels. Barnaby twitches, trembles, head thrown back over the bed as Kotetsu swallows him nearly to the hilt and he feels the man's throat working around him, feels him swallow hard and even gag a bit, feels the stupid, rough coarseness of his jaw rubbing along his thighs with each bob of his head and oh, god, is it maddening.
He comes with a hard shudder, quivering as he turns his head aside to half-bury it into a pillow, muffling a heady, desperate groan there and just barely keeping himself from bucking up, burying himself deeper past Kotetsu's lips. Kotetsu is far from perfect, but perhaps that makes it even better as he struggles to swallow everything, licking him up and drawing back with a little grimace as his tongue laves over the head of Barnaby's cock, trying to lick him clean.
"… Before you ask," Kotetsu offers breathlessly, wiping his mouth with one hand, voice a little hoarse from as much disuse as what they had just done, "that was entirely necessary."
Barnaby just groans.