Chapter Text
A cloud of steam follows Norman Babcock into the hallway as he steps out of the bathroom. There’s nothing on his body except for a towel tied around his hips. Water drips off the ends of his hair onto his back and in the comparative coolness of the hallway, it sends chills across the man’s skin. Norman runs a hand through his spiky dark brown hair as he contemplates what he wants to do now. His body is experiencing the warmth of arousal - which isn’t uncommon in itself - but he also has a craving to be near his boyfriends. The need to be with someone else while he takes care of business is the unusual thing.
In his other hand he holds his cell phone. He hesitates before sending a message, trying to remember if either of his boyfriends has anything going today. Wirt should be either working on his new book or sleeping. Hopefully the latter; Wirt doesn’t get enough sleep when he’s got an idea for a book. Whichever he’s doing, Wirt is out for this round. Which leaves Dipper. Norman sends him a text message; -are you busy?-
The man gets about three steps down the hall when he gets a reply.
-No.- A second later another one comes in. -Why? Whats up?-
Norman finds a blank section of wall to lean on. He lets the towel drop to his ankles. His thumb finds the camera app on his phone and the next minute he’s looking at his hard dick through the screen. Norman takes a moment to try and still his shaking hands so that the picture isn’t blurry. It's a bit embarrassing that he ends up snapping a dozen photos before he gets one he likes enough to send to Dipper. The man grins as he waits for his boyfriend’s response. He doesn’t have to wait long.
-I can help with that. I’m in the living room if you want to join me.-
Norman finds a shelf to leave his phone on. He doesn’t bother with the towel. If there’s one thing he’s comfortable with, its nudity. It's probably from that colony of ghost nudists he hung out with for four months when he was in high school. They had insisted that Norman be as naked as they were, which led to several public indecency charges. He walks out to the living room where he finds Dipper sitting in his favorite armchair watching Harassing Bigfoot.
Dipper is pretending to not see him but Norman can tell that he’s been noticed by the way Dipper’s shoulders tense up. He checks his phone and his foot starts bouncing.
Norman walks over to Dipper and sits down on his lap, straddling him. He sighs and watches with amusement as his breath makes Dipper’s curly brown hair move. The man lowers his head for a kiss. It's just a peck on the lips; to which Dipper isn’t responding. Norman pulls back enough to look into Dipper’s hazel eyes. “You can kiss me.”
The other man sits up a little straighter. His kiss is gentle but there’s hunger in it. It almost makes Norman want to apologize but they have a strict rule that no one is allowed to apologize for not wanting to do something. “Am I allowed to touch you?”
Norman doesn’t have to think about it. “No.” He searches for disappointment in Dipper’s expression but there is none. They’ve probably been together for too many years for this to still be a disappointment.
Dipper presses his lips to Norman’s again. This kiss feels a little more desperate. His mouth moves against Norman’s, the kiss hard and hot. His breath tastes like nachos. “Am I allowed to touch myself?”
This is something that Norman has to think about. The question draws Norman’s gaze to Dipper’s crotch; his shorts have a tent. While he usually finds it arousing to watch Wirt and Dipper - together or doing their own thing - they are too close right now. He feels a little guilty when he responds with, “No.”
A nod is the response he gets. Dipper drops his phone onto the floor where it clatters loudly in the quiet house. He puts both hands on arm rests. Then he smiles up at Norman. “Am I allowed to watch you?” His eyes flicker from Norman to the television screen.
Norman smiles. This may be interesting. “No.” He takes Dipper’s chin in his hand and turns his face so that Dipper is now looking at the television screen.
Dipper pouts but doesn't protest. This is a new element to their play and if there's one thing Dipper is always down for it's something new.
With the rules established, Norman starts. Norman cards his hands through his own damp hair. He runs them along the back of his neck, over his shoulders, and down his chest. His hands glide over the ink in his skin.
Dipper's breath is a warm puff on Norman's shoulder. Though he has since turned it off, Dipper's gaze is decidedly fixed on the television screen.
It occurs to Norman that he's probably watching Norman's reflection. Fine. He can put on a show. Norman closes his eyes, letting himself get lost in his own touch. Fingers skim up his abdomen leaving sparks in their wake. Double pinches to his nipples have Norman gasping out. His spine arches, placing him only a few centimeters away from touching his boyfriend.
Dipper lets out a quiet whine. His fingers tap against the arm of the chair but he otherwise doesn't move.
Norman keeps one hand at his nipple, fingers rubbing the bud. The other glides down to rest on his hip. He dips his hand lower, almost touching himself but not quite.
Dipper's breath hitches. It's clear that he's openly watching Norman.
Norman keeps his eyes closed as he skims his hand up Dipper's torso. He keeps his touch too light to be satisfying but just hard enough to invoke a reaction. At Dipper's throat he presses a little harder, hinting at choking the man beneath him. Then he comes to Dipper's chin, which is pointed towards Norman. Deliberately he jerks Dipper's face to the side.
"Norman," Dipper says in a breathy tone. He grits his teeth.
Norman opens his eyes to study his boyfriend's face. "If you want to stop I could always just go," Norman releases Dipper's chin. He makes a move like he's going to slide off the chair.
"No!" Dipper moves to stop him, remembers the rules, and shakes his head. "I don't want you to stop."
Norman can see Dipper's heart pounding in the hollow of his throat. He settles back down, hovering over his boyfriend. He squeezes his knees together, forcing Dipper's thighs closer.
Dipper makes a needy noise in his throat. He has a blush across his freckled cheeks. It makes the red in his hair stand out more. He grips the armrests.
As a small reward for obeying most of the rules, Norman plants a chaste kiss on Dipper's lips. Then he's back to touching himself. He curls his fingers around his cock, shivering with pleasure at the sensation. His skin is hot to the touch. Norman holds his cock loosely, giving it slow strokes.
Dipper is squirming beneath him. The tent in his shorts is radiating heat. His knuckles are white as he grips the armchair.
In his head he counts out the strokes; five. Then he changes pace, counting out five more fast strokes that have Norman's head spinning. A moan slips past parted lips. He alternates pace again, moving slow and then fast, building the pleasure and pressure. Norman's toes curl. His hips rock up.
Dipper is looking at him again.
Norman can tell by the way Dipper's breath tickles across his bare chest. But when he peeks through one eye, he sees that Dipper's eyes are closed. Good enough. An idea threads its way through Norman's mind, a deliciously devilish idea. It gives him a shiver just thinking of it. He grinds down, making contact with Dipper.
Dipper gives a strangled moan. His eyelids flutter. He pants, tilting his head back. “Can I take off my shirt?”
Norman watches him, feeling heat pooling in his abdomen. He loves seeing Dipper like this. Norman gives an affirmative noise, leaning back slightly to give Dipper some room.
The shirt is pulled off in seconds and discarded onto the floor. Their eyes meet. Dipper gives him a sheepish smile. “Sorry.” His voice is hoarse.
Norman lifts a hand to gently close Dipper's eyelids again. “You aren't very good at following the rules.”
Dipper gives Norman a cheeky grin. He lifts his shoulder a little half shrug. “I like looking at you, Nor.”
It's hard to be upset with a cutie like this for a boyfriend. Norman smiles back even though the brunette can't see it. He grinds down again.
Dipper moans. His cock jerks against his shorts. But he keeps his eyes closed and his hands to his sides.
Norman feels a familiar pressure building. His hand moves fast. He bites his lip but the noises in his throat are still audible. Norman tilts his head back, eyelids sliding closed. The pleasure grows, centering around his dick. He grinds down again against Dipper's clothed cock. That little push is all he needed. Norman orgasms with a low moan.
When he opens his eyes, Dipper is looking at him. His cheeks are colored red with a blush. There's cum on his stomach and on Norman's hand. “You're so sexy.” Dipper's voice is a whisper.
Norman flushes, still getting flustered over compliments even after all these years together. He smiles but doesn't meet Dipper's eye. Using his towel, Norman cleans up the mess. He leans forward for a long kiss on Dipper's lips.
Dipper moans into the kiss, brings a hand up to the back of Norman's head and holds him close. Finally he lets go, looking up at Norman with dilated eyes. He glances down at his cell phone then grins back up at Norman. “You're going to be late for work.”
Norman jumps to his feet. “Shit shit shit!” He races to his room and pulls on some cargo pants and a black t-shirt. He stuffs a pair of socks in his boots then tucks the boots under his arm. His wallet, keys, and phone follow the way of the socks. “Love you, Dipper! Bye!”
As he sits in his car in the driveway, Norman shoots Wirt a text. Even though he's going to be late he smiles on his way to work. Dipper is gonna get it for breaking the rules.