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Greg wakes up because Tom’s fingers are plunged deep inside of his ass.
“Wha…” he mumbles, hoarsely, shuffling against the silk sheets. “Tom?”
But he doesn’t get an answer.
It’s midnight. The bedroom is pitch black, with the exception of light spilling across the carpet from the open door to the hallway. Both men lay on their sides. Greg can feel Tom panting against the side of his neck. He has one arm tucked under Greg and over his chest, keeping him pressed back against his broad form. His thumb rubs sweet, reassuring, little circles against his collarbone. And his other arm is — well, you already know.
This doesn’t come as a shock to Mr. Hirsch. In fact, the pair had discussed this exact scenario, a few days ago. It was over a nice, romantic, very expensive, dinner — of which Sugar Daddy Wambsgans had so graciously covered, just like any other time. Except it was not just like any other time because Greg had decided that right now — yes, this very moment, in the middle of a public establishment — would be the perfect time to open the floodgates on his little fantasy, wherein Tom ravishes his unconscious body.
Tom was mid-bite of his fancy Italian dish when Greg broke the ice, so to speak.
“Greg— what the fuck?!” he wheezed, pounding a fist against his chest. A noodle had lodged itself somewhere in the space between his ribcage and his pounding heart, it seemed.
“Sorry, sorry, I know it’s— weird? I’m not even sure why- why I brought it up. Yeah, um, like forget I said anything,” Greg muttered, eyes darting around his plate. No doubt, his nimble fingers were twisting the table cloth, out of sight — a nervous habit.
“No, no, no! Hold on, I didn’t say that,” Tom corrected, a bit louder than necessary. A few people swiveled their heads towards the odd couple. He glared at them until they turned back around. Yeah, that’s right, fuck off.
Greg blinked back up at Tom with his big cow eyes. His face was mottled red, his shoulders were drawn tight. Oh, how wonderfully a look of pure embarrassment suited his boy. Tom melted a tad.
”I mean, look around us, buddy. Are you sure that now is an appropriate time to… open that can of worms? Hah. Uh, right here?“ he gestured at their busy surroundings to illustrate his point, voice dropped to a whisper.
Greg gaped, a bit dumbly.
Well, no, he hadn’t considered that particular detail. He had just blurted out — in typical Greg fashion — what had been weighing on his mind for… weeks? months even? Since he had reached the bottom of the top, since Tom’s divorce was finalized, since they’d officially began dating. It had been a tumultuous journey, indeed, for both men. During that period of time, this strange whim had taken shape in Greg’s mind. What inspired it, exactly? He wasn’t too sure. Perhaps it had something to do with his ability to sleep through pretty much anything — the taboo of it all, even. But it had begun living rent free in his head, to the point where he found himself fending off spontaneous erections at work.
Greg had told him this as much, too. He was all doe-eyed and pink-cheeked as he regaled his tale, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear when he finished. It was getting long again, his hair, which he knew Tom favored greatly. Tom rolled his eyes with fondness and assured him they could talk about it more in depth once they got back to the apartment. How can someone so innocent looking spit such divine filth, Tom wondered. He patted Greg on his arm and gestured to the other man’s plate, silently ordering him to finish it. Little things like that made his stomach fill with butterflies and his face heat up. Tom’s attention was addictive, he would bend over backwards just to get a taste of it.
Speaking of attention, Greg’s prostate was receiving an awful lot of it, at the minute.
He whined, half-coherent, eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy, “Ah! Fuck… don’t- don’t stop.”
Tom smiled, he felt comforted by the thought that Greg trusted him completely, even when he was barely awake. He retracted his fingers from his tight heat, extricating a huff from the other man, and placed feather-light kisses along the exposed column of his pale throat. He hadn’t meant to wake him so soon — per Greg’s own request that Tom drag it out as long as possible — but he’d become a bit overzealous in his affections.
He petted Greg’s hair lightly, until his breathing evened out once more. Tom had to hand it to the guy, he was a phenomenally deep sleeper. Which, maybe, proved to be grounds for such an interest in this particular field of the, er, sexual realm. He could hear Greg’s voice in his mind, clear as day. Tom snorted. That’s exactly how he would say it, he thought, fondly. What a goober.
Tom sat up and repositioned Greg’s sleeping form onto his back, stuffing a pillow under his hips for good measure. He didn’t stir even a little. Lucky bastard. In Tom’s eagerness, he’d neglected to remove Greg’s boxers and they were twisted around his thighs. Similarly, his shirt was rucked up beneath his armpits, leaving his chest on display, rising and falling slowly. Tom wished he could paint this moment (or pay someone to do it for him, more like) and hang it in the Louvre forever. Or maybe not. Greg was all his — reserved for his eyes only — he decided.
Tom’s eyes strayed down, down, down until they reached Greg’s cock — hard, pink, and leaking against his stomach. He licked his lips.
Fuck. Tom wanted to devour him whole.
Tom peeled Greg’s boxers down his thighs and threw them somewhere on the floor. He slid down the mattress and gently parted the sleeping man’s thighs so that he could lie between them on his stomach, now finally at eye level with his lover’s flushed hard-on. He trailed his fingers through the light dusting of hair beneath Greg’s navel which led into him grasping the base of his cock — not stroking, just holding it gently. Tom blew a gust of cool air and it twitched in acknowledgment. He chuckled under his breath. So responsive, even in slumber.
He darted his tongue out to catch a bead of pre-cum at the tip, tasting expensive, floral, soap and an underlying hint of sweat. Tom’s mouth watered. He lapped at the shiny head in a daze but soon grew impatient and took half of it into his mouth. He heard Greg give a pleased little hum from above but carried on with swallowing his entire length and hollowed his cheeks to pull breathy whimpers from his unconscious partner. Drool spilled from the edges of his lips and dripped down Greg’s balls and gathered at his messy hole. Tom traced the ridges of it using his other hand, fingertips shallowly dipping inside to tease the wet entrance before plunging two inside.
After a few minutes of listening to Greg make little gasping noises under his breath and absently shuffle his feet against the mattress, Tom drew back for air. He propped himself up on one elbow to lovingly gaze down at his masterpiece. Greg was still fast asleep, go figure — long legs splayed out around Tom, who remained knuckle-deep inside of his pucker, shirt twisted above his slightly heaving chest to reveal his hard nipples, and half of his pink, sweaty, face buried in a pillow. He looked downright sinful. Jesus, what a sight.
Tom was painfully hard in his underwear. He had forgotten — while he focused all his efforts on worshipping the beautiful man right in front of him — that there was even a dick attached to his person. He needed to dock himself inside Greg’s lithe body right this instant. Or else he might die, actually.
Tom undressed quickly and fumbled around in the sheets for the lube. He popped the cap open and drizzled a generous amount directly onto Greg’s taint, forgetting to warm it up in his enthusiasm. He shivered a little from the coldness but remained knocked out. Tom slid another finger inside Greg, pumping them gently in and out and stretching him open. He accidentally nudged his prostate a few times in the process. Greg’s legs trembled and threatened to close around the other man’s shoulders while quiet moans poured from his slack lips. Tom used his free hand to lightly massage soothing circles into his bony hip.
He pulled his digits out, once he deemed him sufficiently prepped, and his cock throbbed at the slick noise it produced. Tom loomed over him, one arm framing his head, while his other hand reached down to reposition himself at Greg’s entrance. His thick cockhead nudged at the wet, pink, furl. Intoxicating. His breath caught in his throat.
Tom directed his attention to Greg’s blissfully unconscious face as he finally pushed in slowly. It took incredible restraint not to bury his entire length to the hilt. He gave a few shallow thrusts. Greg’s brows scrunched up and his lips parted, eyelashes fluttering open as he registered the throbbing hardness that filled him up to the brim. He sluggishly ground his hips down against the intrusion and it sent sparks of pleasure up his spine, which prompted a low moan to spill out of him.
Tom stilled, allowing Greg a moment to adjust to his surroundings. His eyes focused on Tom’s at last — blue, so very blue, and shining with unbridled lust.
“Tommy, please,” he begged, squirming restlessly, eyes wide and rimmed with impatient tears.
Tom’s whole body tingled. His self-control had been thrown out the window. He drew his hips back until only the tip remained and slammed in the rest of the way. Greg howled. His fists twisted in the sheets so hard that they could’ve tore. He locked his ankles around the small of Tom’s back, trying desperately to urge him along.
“Yes- ah, fuck!” Greg cried out when a particularly rough thrust nudged his prostrate. “Right… right there…“
“Yeah, Greg? You like that, huh?” Tom mumbled, mostly to himself.
Greg nodded furiously, eyes threatening to roll back in his head.
Tom gripped the underside of Greg’s knee and practically bent the younger man in half, establishing a brutal pace. Greg’s hands flailed, grasping at every bit of Tom that he could reach — from his heaving chest to his strong arms — and his nails dragged along his back. He released wanton moans and whimpers, joined by cries of Tom and more, more, more.
“I’m so, so, c-close, Tom,” Greg panted, arms thrown around the other man’s neck.
“Uh-huh… me too, honey.”
“Kiss me? Please?”
Tom groaned. He lunged forward and connected their lips in a messy, open-mouthed, kiss. His hand slithered between their stomachs to help finish Greg off faster. Greg whimpered into his mouth. Tom could feel his own orgasm pounding behind his eyes — hot and intense. He couldn’t stave it off for much longer. The feeling of being enveloped in Greg’s tight, silky, heat was the closest to heaven he’d ever get. It was a corny thought, sure, but undeniably true. A few more deep thrusts, intermingled by well-timed strokes, was all it took for Greg to shoot ropes up to his chin. His pretty eyes rolled back in his head, his kiss-bruised lips parted obscenely. Tom followed suite quickly with a loud groan, filling Greg up to the brim with warmth.
He collapsed on top of Greg, sweaty cheek pressed against an equally sweaty chest, and a pair of lanky arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. He was most likely crushing the other man but found it difficult to care at the moment. Greg liked the pressure just fine, anyways — “like a weighted blanket” he had exclaimed once.
Both of them were panting like they’d just ran a marathon. Tom lifted his head to wipe a few stray tears from Greg’s cheeks. His legs were still shaking from the aftershock but his breathing was steadily becoming even. He waited until his erection went soft before he pulled out of the other man’s stretched entrance, which made Greg hiss from overstimulation. Tom placed an apologetic kiss against his temple and flopped down on the bed right next to him, shoulder to shoulder. Greg tucked his head into the side of Tom’s neck and inhaled his scent. Tom interlaced their fingers and received a squeeze in return.
“So, was it everything you ever dreamed of?” Tom mused, half-joking but also genuinely curious.
Greg snorted. What a funny guy. He could sense the undertone of concern in Tom’s query, though, and it made him smile.
“Yeah. It was- um… ten out of ten. Honestly. You really, hah, knocked it out of the park,” Greg said, playfully.
Tom huffed a quiet laugh. He ruffled the other man’s hair which garnered a pleased hum and a brief nuzzle against his throat.
“But, like, seriously? Uh, thank you. It was perfect,” Greg told him, earnestly.
“Of course, Greg.”
“And did you… did you enjoy it, too?”
“My enjoyment is quite literally dripping from your asshole right now, Gregory. I think that serves as plenty of evidence, don’t you?” Tom teased him.
“Ah, gross, man!” Greg cringed at the mental picture, although he felt equally delighted by the other man’s admission. “But, point taken. I’m glad that- that you liked it, as well.”
They laid in comfortable silence for a while, exchanging lazy kisses. Tom eventually retrieved a wash cloth from their adjoining bathroom and wiped both of them clean. He slid into his rightful place behind Greg and wrapped him up in his arms. They fell asleep right away and they didn’t awaken until almost noon. But neither of them were complaining. It was totally worth it.