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Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: NC-17. BDSM, cameos by sex toys.
Pairing: Keanu/Gavin, Keanu/Gavin/Gwen Stefani
Feedback: Good lines, typos, etc.
Disclaimer: Completely fictional. I have no idea what actually happened on Constantine’s set or in these people’s private lives.
Notes: For _emptyspaces, who feeds my icon hunger.
Summary: There’s dinner. And afterward, there’s “Wanna come back to my place for some coffee?”
***
“You sure you don’t want a last-minute practice?” Gwen’s wiggling the dildo at him.
Gavin winces, and not just because his mouth and throat’s kind of sore from…er, practicing. The one she’s somehow sneaked into the car is damn big and brilliant stop-the-traffic pink to boot. “Baby, Keanu does not look like that. He’s more tapering. And paler. Like vanilla ice cream and that one shade of blush you wear.”
She giggles archly and tosses the thing into the backseat, then slides over to smack him a kiss on a burning cheek. Yeah, now he sees that vanilla’s not the greatest way to describe it, but words mostly get lost when it comes to Keanu. It’d taken Gavin the better part of an hour to just start on telling Gwen about it, once he’d finally staggered back from the stint on Constantine, and thank God Gwen’s an imaginative girl because it would’ve taken longer if she’d let him tell the whole thing. But she’s good at guessing, lucky for him. And surprisingly turned on by the whole…whatever he and Keanu have been up to, though sore as he’d been, he and Gwen hadn’t been able to get up to much for a week.
She’d been worn out from promoting her new album anyway, so it all worked out. Gavin knows she loves him, but it’s always nice to find out your girl likes licking your bruises. Of course, then he’d mentioned what Keanu had said about Gavin’s…cocksucking technique, and Gwen had had a home project. After that, being limited to the bed had had its downsides.
“You look great. He’ll want to eat you up with a spoon,” she murmurs. Her fingers adjust his tie, then rub down the front of his shirt.
He grins and runs his fingers through her hair, but inside he’s still wobbling like a teenager with his first drink. He’s wearing a white shirt, untucked, with black trousers and coat. And tie, loosely knotted because Christ, every time he pulls one snug against his throat now he has flashbacks and he really needs to figure out how to stop that before awards show season gets going. His hair’s got just enough gel in it for there to be some wave; he let Gwen mess around with it till she was happy, since he just has no idea what to go for. Except that he’s got this sticky, clutching feeling in his gut that he’s being way, way too obvious. Constantine colors, for God’s sake. “If he’s not staring at you,” he nervously says.
“Don’t be silly.” She pecks him again, then stops to give him a longer kiss as she climbs over his lap on the way to the door.
They didn’t want to bother with paparazzi or anything like that, so they’ve shown up ridiculously early and parked by the back door. Which means tiny alley that’s about a hair away from scratching up the car, but Gwen’s slender and nimble. Gavin’s not so thin, but he’s recovered from his last round with Keanu and he’s still pretty flexible, he likes to think. While Gwen’s bouncing up the steps to greet the maitre’d, Gavin locks the car.
Actually, he does a quick duck into the back to get that dildo under one of the seats. He doesn’t know whether anybody walks back here, and maybe it’s Gwen’s favorite, but he’s already nervy enough. He’ll appreciate knowing at least one thing’s not shining out in the open like a traffic light.
They sneak through the kitchen and one of the chefs whacks down a knife so hard that Gavin jumps. He almost knocks a pot off a hook with his elbow, and as it is, he’s probably gotten his first bruise of the night.
“You all right? You’re kinda flushed,” Gwen says, pulling at his arm. “We’re almost out.”
“It’s not the, uh, kitchen heat. Not really. I’m go—fine.” God. He’s stuttering. And why doesn’t he just go the rest of the way and hide behind his hands like a little girl? So much for the reputation of unflappably cool British men.
Then again, most of them probably didn’t start breakfast with what should’ve been an eye-popping discussion with their wife about having a threesome with an incredibly good, incredibly beautiful actor. Gavin’s still having a problem understanding why Keanu would keep coming back—not that he’s complaining, mind—and Gwen is already talking about it like she’s planning a club show. Well, except when she plans that kind of thing she doesn’t laugh nearly so much, so maybe she’s nervous beneath it all too. But if she is, she’s hiding it a lot better.
They finally get out of the kitchen and the maitre’d pisses off in a flurry of smooth pleasantries to do what he does, which leaves Gavin and Gwen looking at the nice private room they’ve reserved. It’s sunny and airy, very Italianate, and it’s cooling if not entirely calming. Gavin takes a deep breath and slides his hand down to squeeze Gwen’s; she darts a smile at him before wandering them over to the wall so she can exclaim over the cute silk butterflies in the flower arrangement.
“You’re here! And I thought I was going to be sitting around by myself for fifteen minutes,” says a voice from the doorway. When Gavin turns around, Keanu’s slouching elegantly in the doorway, grin wide and hands tucked casually in pockets. He’s already straightening up as Gwen comes forward, gaze shifting to her without any lessening of warmth. “And you’re even more beautiful in person.” He sticks out a hand. “It’s an honor to finally meet you.”
“You’re just sucking up so I’ll let you suck face with Gavin,” Gwen cheerfully ripostes.
For a second Gavin isn’t sure that’ll come off right, but Keanu’s chuckle rings genuine. He bends down to give Gwen a kiss on the cheek. “Maybe I’m sucking up so he’ll let me suck face with you.”
“Hey, I heard that.” Okay, it’s a quote from his lines in Little Black Book, but at least Gavin isn’t standing frozen in place. He ambles over in his best imitation of suaveness and holds out his hand.
After a moment, Keanu takes it and gives it a firm shake, the only thing giving him away being the speculative look slyly flitting through his eyes. He says something about hearing about Institute, and then they’re on safe ground. They can chat and tease and seesaw over menu choices like any other trio of people, and not even the jaded waitstaff can justify giving them a hard look.
There are a couple moments. Like when Gavin somehow discovers foolhardiness while cutting up some asparagus and asks, “So what are you doing right now?”
“Besides starting the Constantine promo tour with you tomorrow?” Keanu arches a wry brow as he digs into his steak. “Not much. I thought I’d get into town a day early and abuse the extras that come with my hotel suite before I had to start working again.”
To which Gwen hums thoughtfully and pets Gavin’s jerking knee beneath the table.
And then there’s the moment at the end, where they’ve fended off Keanu’s attempts to pick up the whole tab and are lolling in their seats with coffee. Gwen looks down at her cup and wrinkles her nose. “Well, I guess we can’t ask you to have some more after this. Thing is, I don’t need to get to the airport for another two hours.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Something the Matrix films drilled into me was that you can never have too much coffee,” Keanu replies. His fingers flip the spoon about in his cup, nearly splashing coffee on his trousers. He waits a beat, staring at them with an opaque look that’s getting familiar but no more readable to Gavin. “I kind of want to see you two kiss.”
A smile flicks back the corners of Gwen’s mouth. Her cheeks are slightly redder than they were when she was touching up in the car. “I kind of want to see you and Gavin…not that that call you guys gave me wasn’t fun, but…”
This is where Gavin is supposed to join in, but he’s a little stuck with staring at Keanu. Specifically, Keanu’s long fingers, which keep playing with that spoon the same way they’d played with the silk sash. The crotch of Gavin’s trousers is already getting a bit tight.
“Gavin?” Gwen asks.
But Keanu’s got a hand up as he rises from his seat, an elusive something slipping over him. Bad metaphors about hunting and the great cats of the world come to mind, but don’t quite get it. It’s…the deliberation with which he saunters over.
It’s a bit impressive that Gavin’s mind can still pick things apart while Keanu comes closer and closer, hands hanging loose and open. Beside Gavin, Gwen clicks her tongue against her teeth once; it’s a habit she has whenever she’s puzzled but has enough of an idea to be a little worried.
Thankfully, Keanu takes care of the explanation. He stops a bit short of Gavin, one hand tucking in his pocket, and looks at Gwen. “Do you…mind if I handle this?”
“Oh. Oh.” Now her gaze on the side of Gavin’s face is intensely curious. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this.” She takes a little kitten breath. “I…like it. Go ahead.”
“Thanks.” Keanu gives her a small, warm smile before turning back to Gavin.
All he does is reach out and hook a finger beneath the knot of Gavin’s tie, but that’s enough to make sure Gavin’s knees lose it. Still, the tug isn’t going away, so Gavin scrambles to grab at the chair arms and shakily lift himself. He suddenly has this problem with looking Keanu in the eyes, and keeps glancing at Keanu’s chin, which is nice but not the same as getting eaten alive in a ravenous gaze. So he misses the moment when their mouths meet, and actually he needs a second afterward to catch on because his reflexes have all inexplicably gotten rusty.
But Keanu’s taking this one slow, just easing his mouth over Gavin’s till Gavin tentatively parts his lips, and even then the slide of Keanu’s tongue into his mouth is languid and sweet as honey. It’s gentle pressure, but it’s enough to send a shiver through Gavin. Enough to contrast with the sudden lack of anything on the rest of him, because Keanu is still holding him up by just the tie. He can feel, faintly, the heat coming off of Keanu’s body and it’s maddeningly far away.
“I haven’t checked into my hotel room yet,” Gavin breathlessly admits once he’s allowed to. “Um, Gwen? Are we—”
“And he speaks.” She makes a little clap with her hands and stands up to take his hand. Her lips press softly against his ear before she ducks away, her giggle turning throatier, richer, lustier. “I think I want to see Keanu’s suite.”
Keanu laughs quietly, still no more than an inch from Gavin. Very slowly, he drops Gavin’s tie and smoothes it down. “We can definitely do that.”
* * *
They’ve barely gotten into the room before Keanu’s cell goes off. He walks into the next room to take care of it while Gwen gleefully crawls onto the bed to make the springs bounce. Gavin pauses to kick off his shoes and socks before he comes after her, chasing her around a bit before grabbing her waist and tumbling down with her. He’s not exactly sure where the sudden burst of energy came from, but it’s nervous and it’s used up almost as once. He buries his face in her neck, breathing slowly.
“Babe?” She rubs a hand down his back. “You know, back at the restaurant…”
“Yeah?” Gavin’s stomach twists a little at her tone. He doesn’t think Gwen’s going to back out now, but he’s got this feeling that anything can happen. Which can be good, but can be bad as well. “I’m sorry about—ow.”
She doesn’t look sorry about craning around and biting his nose. And she keeps nipping, aiming for his jaw and the corners of his mouth. “Oh, God, that’s okay. I can completely get why you’d freeze up when Keanu’s looking like that. It was just…weird. Different. Like I was watching a movie.”
“It feels like being in one,” Gavin mutters. Her little nibbles are starting to get to his nerves, which are already worked up anyway. He slides a hand up and down her side, following the dip of her waist, and resettles himself more comfortably between her legs. “Only I’m getting the cues as I go along.”
“Well, think of it as a jam session.” She’s easing back on the teeth, letting her lips linger. It isn’t too long before her mouth wanders squarely onto his, and then they’re sliding into their groove.
Heat, but it’s heat Gavin knows isn’t going to burn him. He moves up, plunges deeper into Gwen’s mouth. She lets him, then pushes back for a second to get her lipstick off. Laughs a little more confidently as she wipes the traces off him as well, though that turns to gasping once he’s started to run his tongue around her knuckles, teasing those freshly manicured nails.
The bed suddenly sinks behind Gavin and he starts to look around, but a hand slides firmly from the small of his back over his buttock to his thigh. “No, keep kissing her,” Keanu says. Orders. “God, that’s gorgeous.”
A tremor goes through Gavin, world shifting ever-so-slightly around him like going from a major to a minor chord. He feels Gwen hesitate beneath him and recollects himself, kissing her harder. Pressing deeper till she pushes back, giving as good as she gets. Her knees bump up against Gavin’s hips, and occasionally Gavin can feel Keanu doing something—taking off her shoes. They’re three-inch spike heels, so that’s a damn good idea.
Gwen gets Gavin by the face and turns him back, abruptly ferocious. She’s fucking his mouth and he groans, twists his tongue around hers to return the favor. He’s suddenly thinking about what they must look like to Keanu and he shivers again, feeling oddly exposed.
Like he’s reading Gavin’s mind, Keanu runs his hand over Gavin’s back again so Gavin mouths along Gwen’s jaw with increasing fervor, watching the blood flush to the surface. Hands on his knees and thighs are shifting him to the side, and Keanu’s squeezing in beside him to do something to Gwen. His wife, and it’s kind of inane to think about possessive articles now. But then again, this right here is all more or less about possession, and that thought slithers around beneath Gavin’s skin, stealing almost as much breath as Gwen’s hungry mouth does. Her hands are twisting in his hair, pulling him down the long arch of her neck, and her nails are digging into his scalp to raise little pinpricks of pain that somehow double up. He can feel it on his head, and also a ghostly echo against his prick that’s straining hard against his trousers.
Keanu’s a leanness against Gavin and he finds himself pressing urgently against the other man, rubbing against him and against Gwen, swinging back and forth between Keanu’s unyielding body and Gwen’s soft breasts.
“Can I take off his coat?” Gwen gasps.
Gavin’s too busy licking at the underside of her chin to really think. And anyway, by the time he’s realizing that she isn’t talking to him, Keanu’s already answering: “Yeah. Throw it off the bed.”
Then her hands are pulling hard at Gavin’s clothes, nails almost ripping into the fabric, and he’s just as eager. But he doesn’t want to leave her mouth, her skin so he’s twisting around to get his arms out. Almost gets himself knotted up so Keanu has to leave off whatever he’s doing to help out. Gavin leans up so all three of them are pulling and he can see Gwen, flushed cheeks and wet open lips and rumpled clothing, and he wants her so badly he’s nearly blinded by it. And Keanu’s hands are on his wrists that are trapped so Gavin’s breath catches, but a second later he’s free. Free and going back to Gwen, and oddly disappointed in the middle of this crazy exhilaration that’s taken him.
“Take off her blouse,” Keanu purrs, so close his tongue flickers against Gavin’s ear when he speaks. Then he’s gone, down between Gwen’s legs and Gwen’s knee is banging hard into Gavin’s side as she sighs and arches. Glimpse of Keanu’s hands on Gwen’s thighs, pale on pale, and the black of his hair rich against the white of her belly that Gavin’s shaky hands are revealing. He dives back to kiss at Gwen and it’s hard like he’s scared, not hard like he wants to devour her.
She makes a noise beneath him, a little squeak and he backs off with her blouse only up beneath her arms, not off. He needs a moment, maybe, to get his head back and look at her eyes that are worried for him, never mind what marvels Keanu’s working. It’s fine. If she could handle it, he can do the same.
A shoulder rubs against his side; Keanu’s looking closely at him. “All right?”
“Yeah. Just…you’re on my wife, man,” Gavin says, letting some of his nerves get out in a laugh. He feels calmer afterward. His hands are steady when he starts working them beneath the gauzy stuff of Gwen’s blouse, trying not to rip it. “Not something I’ve seen before.”
Keanu takes that, runs it through and figures out exactly what approach to take to get Gavin back into this in something like half a second. Sometime, when Gavin isn’t either on the verge of freaking out or melting on the floor, he needs to ask where the hell Keanu learned all this.
When Keanu isn’t leaning forward, voice swinging low enough to rasp against Gavin’s skin, eyes black hunger. “Then you’d better get back on her.”
“Yeah,” Gwen coos. Her arms go up and Gavin pulls the blouse over her head, and then she’s nuzzling into him, with only the occasional shudder to mark how Keanu’s treating her below. “Come here.”
Her voice doesn’t have quite Keanu’s resonance, but she gets the pitch and Gavin automatically shudders. Then he’s down on her like Keanu said, giving her a nice deep bite just below the ear. She squeals and tries to retaliate, but he dodges. “Nuh-huh. You’re going home where they can’t take pictures of you. I have a press conference tomorrow.”
“So it’s all got to be under the clothes.” The way Keanu says that, he sounds like he’s taking up a challenge. With extra relish. “Gwen. Get me his tie, would you?”
“Be my pleasure,” she trills. And she’s got it off before Gavin can stop her.
Not that he’s trying, because his body hears tie and it’s already going still except for the fine tremble that seems to keep all of Gavin’s nerves on perpetual red alert. He’s hot like someone’s stuck glowing iron just beneath his skin and he’s panting, trying to cool down as he turns to Keanu, but it’s not working. All he’s doing is feeding the flames. His prick is fully hard now and he’s just about ready to start humping the bed, but he knows not to do that.
He’s already turning when Keanu grabs him by the wrist and pulls, and once again he’s shying away from looking at Keanu. But maybe now it’s a little on purpose because Keanu pulls harder, shaking him so his gaze bounces up, and that’s definitely appreciation in Keanu’s eyes. “Unbutton his shirt, but…I think we’re going to leave it on him.”
“What about the cuffs?” Gavin even manages to say. He’s reassured by the familiar sound of Gwen’s nails clicking as she does what Keanu says, the slight scratch of them against his skin. His mouth and lips are dry, so he swallows and licks at them before he goes on to raise his wrists to Keanu. Undoes first one, then the other so they flap down. Even circles one wrist with the other as he looks at Keanu; his lashes are suddenly in the way.
Keanu doesn’t answer in words. The sound that comes from his throat is half-purr, half-snarl, and it just stops Gavin. He’s a doll while Gwen triumphantly flips apart the tails of his shirt, while silk hisses roughly around his wrists. Then Keanu’s yanking it tight and Gavin up, and Gavin is moaning even before Keanu takes him savagely by the mouth.
A second later he’s been dropped back, scorched and wanting more. He groans, but Keanu gives him a shove back onto Gwen. “Nope. Ladies first.”
Gavin can’t move right away because he needs time to pull his muscles together. So he gets to watch while Keanu kneels between him and Gwen’s splayed leg and licks up her thigh. Gwen’s shiver goes right to Gavin’s prick and he’s almost feeling that slow drag against his own skin, holding his breath until Keanu’s finally reached the darkish hair curling over Gwen’s cunt. And then Gwen is jerking up, eyes wide and popping, and Gavin is crawling as best as he can with bound hands to soothe her cries. His fingers stroke along her bra, nestled beneath her breasts, and his mouth traces over and over the angles of her jaw, cheeks, nose.
Keanu’s shoulder is bumping into the back of Gavin’s thigh, so he’s got a pretty good idea of the rhythm Keanu sets. He tries to match it, but soon Gwen’s lifting her leg so Gavin has something to grind against and so much for rational thinking, like the concept of sharing. His cock wants pressure and wants it moving, wants it faster and he does his best to oblige. He’s got a mouth full of Gwen and Keanu’s squeezing a hand in between, knuckles just perfect against the line of Gavin’s prick, and fuck, fuck he likes these trousers but he can’t—he’s coming in them. Like it’s being electrified out of him and God, he’s crushing Gwen but he can’t do anything about it yet.
He does his best to slip sideways, get most of his weight on the bed. His prick is softening but still trapped in his trousers, and now it’s got some sticky lubrication in there. And Gwen is still moaning and twisting, Keanu’s head rocking so hard between her legs that it’s a miracle he doesn’t snap his neck, and Gavin can’t get off of her. So it’s friction and his prick can’t resist that even when it’s exhausted. He’s got aftershocks slamming through him and they’re crashing into the arousal that’s already returning. His mouth stumbles over Gwen till he finds her mouth again, and then he’s kissing her sloppy and brutal, trying to help drag her through till finally her cry shivers into his mouth and her body shakes once, twice against him.
“Whoo…” Keanu props himself up. He’s flushed and breathing hard, but still more composed than any man’s got a right to be. His tongue lazily runs over his lower lip, which is glistening as if he’s dabbed gloss on it. “Sweet.”
Then he leans over and sucks out whatever Gavin had been about to say to that, and God, yes, Gwen’s sweet and Keanu’s on fire, and the combination of both is just about enough to happily kill Gavin.
Except he’s apparently tougher than that, which is a nice surprise. Though he lets out a ragged yelp when a hand suddenly runs over his crotch. Shaking his head, Keanu holds his fingers to his nose and pretends to sniff. “That’s going to be hell to dry-clean.”
“Can’t be much harder than explaining what happened to my hotel room after you and breakfast,” Gavin breathlessly replies.
“So should I take off his pants?” is Gwen’s addition. She’s got a sweet smile, too, even though it’s more than inappropriate for the situation. Then she glances at the clock. “Oh, damn it.”
* * *
She does actually take off Gavin’s trousers before she goes. Strips them off while Keanu’s pinning him belly-down to the mattress and applying teeth to the back of Gavin’s neck so he’s boneless. Gwen whirls through the shower, through make-up and dressing and is magically perfect just in time for the car to be brought round.
She stops by the side of the bed; Keanu sits up from where he’d been straddling Gavin with arms and legs to accept her kiss. “Don’t put him in the hospital, okay?” she tells him.
Keanu makes a mock-offended face. “Do I look that crude?”
Laughing, Gwen bends down to press her mouth to Gavin’s. He belatedly manages to close his jaw in time to give her a decent kiss. “Don’t waste all our hard work,” she says. “Have fun.”
“You know, I’m starting to get scared whenever you say that,” he snorts. He kisses her again, and watches the door till he can’t hear her footsteps anymore.
He gets a cool-down period. He thinks. At any rate, Keanu slides off of him and fiddles around on the other side of the bed until Gavin’s gotten his attention back to the fact that he’s only in a very wrinkled, sweat-damp shirt with a tie firmly knotted around his wrists. Then Keanu turns around with his belt in his hands. “All our hard work?” he asks.
If he wants a coherent conversation with Gavin, he’s really got to stop toying with things the way he does, all simmering speculation. Gavin slowly pushes his hands forward a few inches, and when Keanu cocks his head, Gavin keeps on crawling. His prick is half-hard and still recovering from earlier; the sheets are soft but the sensation of the head of his cock dragging across him still makes him hiss. “Well…I mentioned something about ‘working on my blowjob’ to Gwen. She’s got this collection of dildos—” fuck, he’s blushing “—and we…she had some tips.”
“No kidding.” Soon as Gavin’s in reach, Keanu stretches out an arm to take Gavin by the chin. His hand curves beneath Gavin’s jaw, lifts it up and roughly caresses the underside like someone else would a dog.
Though Gavin can see why dogs seem to like it so much. His eyes are drifting half-shut and he tilts his head into it, lets Keanu’s thumb run over his lips. It tips in on one pass and he opens for it so he can catch the knuckle lightly between his teeth, then let it out.
Keanu’s exhale cuts like acid. “Jesus. Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”
“What, sex?” Gavin’s laugh is starting to get edgy again. He ducks his head off of Keanu’s hand, hands playing with the bedsheets. The tail-end of Keanu’s belt crosses one corner of his field of vision and he’s beginning to get a little obsessed with it. “Really haven’t done this—I have no idea what I’m doing. Can’t you tell?”
Fingers dancing over the back of his neck. Just the tips at first, but soon the rest are swirling over his tingling skin, taking long sweeps down so he’s almost collared. “Not really,” Keanu says. He slides his hand into Gavin’s hair. “Come here.”
Well, instructions Gavin can follow. He lets the pull of Keanu’s hand show him how far forward to go, easing him onto Keanu’s lap till his hands are lying flat on Keanu’s crosslegged thighs. Then Keanu stops pulling and starts pushing, just a gentle nudge downward, and Gavin’s chewing on his lip like he’s never seen a man’s bloody crotch before.
He puts his hands on Keanu’s waistband too slowly and gets a little shake for it. After that he speeds up, miraculously not getting the zipper stuck or anything while he’s fumbling the fly open. Guess it must be only Constantine that wears boxers, or maybe Keanu came with a proposal in mind just like Gavin and Gwen had, because Gavin slides in a hand and there’s nothing to keep him from touching Keanu’s prick.
It’s reddened and erect so he has to get a little creative in getting it out without catching the skin on the zipper’s teeth. Keanu’s hair is curled dark and loose against his skin that’s really, really fucking pale, and it looks so delicate that Gavin has this urge to lick. He does, after a moment—pushes his head in and feels the hair scrape on his teeth as he runs his tongue around the base of Keanu’s prick.
“God…” Keanu sighs. His hand on Gavin’s hair slides, ends up back on Gavin’s neck where it strokes with a little bit more pressure. His fingertips flip beneath the collar of Gavin’s shirt, making the fabric rustle so Gavin’s reminded of the inequality in their states of dress. Undress. “So you do threesomes and leashes and ice…”
“Are you making a list?” When Gavin leans back, he lets Keanu’s cock slide past his cheek. He can feel the hard pulse in it in a glancing way and he finds that oddly intriguing, so he sends his fingers moving over till he can trace the veins. It’s not difficult since Keanu has beautifully translucent skin. And apparently it’s good, because Gavin outlines one with his nail and Keanu’s grip tightens.
Keanu slants a look down at him, impatient and glowering. The side of Keanu’s mouth twists in the prelude to a snarl. “Come on. Stop being a chicken.”
It’s on the tip of Gavin’s tongue to say something cheeky back, but that’s also dying where it is because he’s burning beneath Keanu’s gaze. It’s acting, some part of him says, but that doesn’t really matter when he’s already dropped his eyes to the prick rearing out of his hands. He hesitates a second longer, not able to hide behind frenzied lust this time because Keanu’s keeping things slow. Then he leans forward and wraps his mouth around Keanu’s cock.
Just the tip at first, just softly suckling so Keanu’s hand restlessly sweeps down Gavin’s back and a harsh groan filters down to Gavin’s ear. He lingers there, running his tongue over the slit in the head till finally Keanu takes him by the neck again and tugs him forward, forcing another inch into Gavin’s mouth. Swallow, keep swallowing, and slowly Gavin passes the halfway point and Keanu’s belly before him is starting to turn blurry because of proximity. He closes his eyes at that point because the strain’s getting to him and suddenly he’s in taste and sound and touch. He can hear his own hard swallows, his near-cough that gets crushed back. Keanu tastes saltier near the head and smoother towards the base. Gavin’s heartbeat’s drumming madly in his ears like the drummer’s on meth. Everything’s a mess of sensation, and folding him into its sucking embrace.
He moans and he can hear the vibrations in his whole skull, can feel Keanu’s prick scrape over his teeth as the other man grunts, shoves in. And fuck, teeth not usually a good thing. What else was there? Gavin can’t remember. But at least he can take more than last time, and he can keep up with the shallow thrusts Keanu’s making now.
“Hum a little,” Keanu suggests.
Hum what? The first tune that comes to mind is some kids’ song from Gavin’s childhood and somehow that’s just really wrong. He casts around for something better, but thinking’s getting trickier since Keanu’s moving faster, going past playing around and getting to fucking. Gavin’s mouth is starting to hurt at the strained corners, but he’s ignoring it and working on not choking; Keanu helps when he reaches down to hold up Gavin’s chin.
Goddamn it, if he doesn’t think of something soon—he starts, accidentally bumps the tip of Keanu’s prick against the back of his throat and Christ, not coughing hurts. Gulping to get rid of that only half works because most of his spit is busy with helping Keanu slide in and out, so Gavin’s just got to deal. And hum badly. But he guesses it’s the vibration and the squeezing that counts, since Keanu’s not exactly criticizing his melodic abilities right now.
A second later Gavin realizes he’s humming a snatch from Constantine’s soundtrack. He’s thrown enough to try and laugh, only that’s not going to work because he’s got a cock pumping in and out of his mouth, but Jesus. Keanu liked that. Liked it enough to suddenly ram himself in, jerking up Gavin’s chin at the same time, and Gavin’d like to back off for a breather but Keanu’s grip on his jaw is white-tight. Fingertips shoved just under the jaw and it hurts and it’s exactly what he needs and fuck, he can’t move. It feels like Keanu’s trying to crack his jaw like a nut and Gavin’s whining, trying to give the man what he wants because that’s what the pressure is telling him to do. The breathing above him’s getting more and more ragged, and Keanu’s starting to add a growl to it as well.
He jerks Gavin up a couple more inches so Gavin’s neck is bent almost too far back; every thrust makes his spine creak. Gavin gropes till he finds Keanu’s thigh and then he squeezes that, pulling at the other man to get him back down, but Keanu yanks back and Keanu’s going to win this bout. He does win. His body stiffens and that includes the nails he’s got digging beneath Gavin’s jaw, and Gavin just hopes he doesn’t accidentally bite down when he chokes.
But at the last moment Keanu pulls out, nearly ripping himself on Gavin’s teeth, and comes on the sheets. Gavin can breathe all of a sudden. Which he does, gulping huge amounts of air while he wrestles with this stupid feeling of inadequacy that keeps popping up.
“Jesus Christ. You really have been working on it.” Keanu’s shoulders are heaving. He’s still bent sideways, catching his breath.
“Thanks.” It’s sincere gratitude. Actually, it’s kind of absurd how pleased Gavin’s suddenly feeling. His mood swings lately are enough to give him whiplash.
That must come out in his voice somehow, because suddenly Keanu is turning to look at him. Then Keanu’s pulling Gavin over by the wrists, breathing smoothed out and eyes coolly smoldering. He drags Gavin into his lap and cups Gavin’s cheek, then runs his hand down to loosely pick up the erection that Gavin’s actually forgotten about but which is clamoring for his attention now.
“Not so much making a list as making notes for later.” Every word’s accompanied by a sharp nip at the base of Gavin’s throat. He swallows and Keanu’s tongue sears along his constricting throat muscles till they’re needling at the sore spots blooming beneath the corners of his jaw. “Fuck. That’s going to be a little tricky to cover up.”
“It’s…fine…” Gavin breathily says. Because damn it, a tongue laving over those two spots are guaranteed to make him whimper every single fucking time. He does whimper. He whimpers a lot and rubs his hands pleadingly against Keanu’s chest while Keanu sucks gently at the bruises, runs a fingertip up and down the length of Gavin’s prick. “Please…”
Keanu corkscrews his tongue into the hollow beneath Gavin’s jaw and presses hard and long till Gavin’s head is dropping sideways and he’s clinging to Keanu’s shirt. His mouth travels on, envelops Gavin’s earlobe and earring. Pulls at it so Gavin’s prick tries to jump, only Keanu’s pressing it down for some reason. Forcing it back against his thigh so he’s squirming desperately, grinding himself into Keanu’s hand.
“Be a lot harder to cover up a limp, but we are sitting a lot.” Another pull at the earring. Warm tongue-tip poking through the hoop before rocking it back and forth so Gavin sways as well. “Too bad. You ever have a belt taken to you?”
Gavin groans. It’s a long, stretched-out sound that has to bully its way through his tight throat.
“But then you really wouldn’t be able to sit still. You’d be hissing and moving around, and everyone would stare.” Keanu’s still holding Gavin by his wrists and now he’s slowly twisting Gavin around, his hot mouth tracking over Gavin’s neck till he’s nibbling at the nape of Gavin’s neck. It’s like being trapped beneath a tiger that still hasn’t made up its mind whether it’s going to bite down, sever the spine with gigantic teeth.
His other hand is wrapped around Gavin’s waist. It’s let go of Gavin’s prick so that can strain freely into the air, though occasionally it’ll flip the tip so Gavin has to mash down a scream. When it’s not doing that, it’s rubbing slowly along the insides of Gavin’s thighs.
“This would be all red and purple…” a graze of a knuckle, and Gavin’s legs are parting so Keanu can tease up behind Gavin’s balls, stroke possessively over his arse “…and so would this…you’d barely be able to stand being dressed. Your pants would rasp against the bruises, and believe me, you’d feel that. You’d feel a breeze would be too much.”
“Holy Christ…” Gavin’s pulling weakly at his wrists, but Keanu and the tie keep them out of the way, crushed up against his chest. “I don’t—I don’t know—”
The hand comes up, detouring around his prick so he’s nearly crying in frustration, and tweaks a nipple. “But did you want to try it?”
Somewhere way, way in the back of Gavin’s head, the tiny rational bit of him’s been wondering where the belt has gotten off to. Suddenly knowing that gets a lot more important and he stares wildly around till he spots it, lying coiled like a snake only a few inches away. He stiffens.
So does Keanu. Except for his mouth, which is still moving over the skin just behind Gavin’s ear, hot and wet and whispering dangerous things. His hands are frozen where they are; the one squeezing Gavin’s wrists isn’t so bad, but the one he has wedged up between Gavin’s legs, thumb just teasing into Gavin’s arse, is brutal in its stillness. “Just to see?”
“Oh, Christ. Please. Please.” If Keanu asked him to break his hands right now, Gavin might just do it.
Keanu just unwraps his arms from Gavin, gives him a little push and Gavin’s falling face-down onto the bed. He’s sluggish, limp, completely unstrung. His prick is screaming at him to move, to grind himself into coming on the bed and he can’t make himself move to obey it. His breathing’s viciously raspy and he has a mouthful of cotton sheet that he can barely shove out of the way with his tongue. When Keanu pushes up his shirt, Gavin flexes a little and hisses, but can’t work up to more than that. His eyes drift open and shut.
He doesn’t hear the belt coming because Keanu is whistling softly to himself, and Keanu has excellent timing. All Gavin knows is one moment he’s a lump and the next he’s a yelping, thrashing thing that claws at the bed while a long strip burns across his back. The sting’s got tears in his eyes before he knows it, and suddenly there’s too much air in his lungs. It’s all cramming into the roof of his mouth where it explodes in a sudden thin cry.
And then, almost more painfully, a hand runs softly over that stripe of skin and Keanu’s sucking on the edge of Gavin’s ear. “Hey. Hey, are you—”
“Oh, God. God. Do that again. Please, oh, Christ, please.” It’s not Gavin speaking, really. He can’t speak because he’s still twisted around the agonizing, amazing pain. But whoever is moving his mouth is a wonderful, wonderful person.
“Okay, see we’re going to have to have that talk afterwards,” Keanu mutters. He sounds amused, and relieved.
He doesn’t make much sense. Talk? They’re supposed to talk? When? When Gavin’s somehow figured out how to piece his brain toge--Christ.
The second blow crosses the first so now there’s a fresh hot burn on the other diagonal plus the one spot where they intersect, which feels like Keanu’s pressed a red-hot iron against Gavin’s skin. Gavin’s off his elbows and biting at the mattress, and his knees might go in another minute.
Two quick slaps, lighter but they’re against the insides of his thighs where the skin is thinner and God, Gavin’s jerking and he can feel he’s going to—no, no, he’s not because Keanu’s grabbed his prick and balls and squeezing them so Gavin can’t come, so he really is crying into the sheets and, and, and…okay. He’s not coming. Keanu’s licking at his thighs, cooling the hot welts. He’s almost fucking there and it’s maddening to teeter on the edge, but he’s teetering, not falling.
“No,” Keanu scolds. “Not till I’m fucking you.”
Then please, please hurry the fuck up is what crosses Gavin’s mind, but that’s not what he says. Because he can’t talk, of course, and all he can do is nod madly into the bed and shove his arse back at Keanu. The first fingertip just grazes him and he humps back and fucks himself on it, never mind that it’s been weeks and he really needs time to get used to it. He needs more to just get fucked.
What Keanu does with fingers is a blur; Gavin makes it a blur because he wants to get to the moment when Keanu’s prick is suddenly making his body stretch, is extending that deep burn to inside and Gavin can keen through his teeth. Let his knees go because Keanu’s hands have him, collapse into the fast, hard rhythm of his flesh yielding to Keanu’s. And he’s there, and he’s already got so much built up that it’s like a match to a powderkeg. Keanu’s barely gotten started but Gavin’s sorry, he can’t hold back any more unless Keanu really wants him dead. He sees his knuckles go white where he’s clutching the bed and he feels his climax tear away from deep inside of him, so he’s flayed open as he comes.
The second time’s even more violent than the first. He actually blacks out. He’s out and when he comes to, Keanu is still in him and fucking him through the shudders that are racking Gavin’s body so Gavin wakes up with a whimper. His arms and legs don’t work well so he can’t really offer much resistance. Just has to hang there till finally Keanu comes in him, and then they’re both down.
* * *
“You’ll have to lean forward all day. And slouch with your legs apart,” Keanu laughs. He’s lying besides Gavin on the utterly ruined bed and he doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere.
Which is warming. The first and second time he hadn’t really stayed around, and it’d been a little…weird afterward, when Gavin had to sit up and stare at the mess without anyone else around. But Keanu’s flopped well and good, and he’s even pulling at his clothes, kicking off his trousers. He seems to run out of energy half-way through unbuttoning his shirt.
“I sit like that anyway,” Gavin replies. He twists further onto his side, wincing when his back and arse complain. “Ow. Fuck. You weren’t kidding.”
“Nope.” Keanu closes his eyes, then opens them. His hand crawls over till it’s hooked a finger through the tie that’s still around Gavin’s wrists. “Your hands okay?”
Gavin wiggles his fingers. The knots have loosened up a lot, so he could probably slip out of them if he wanted to. He’s curiously inclined to leave the silk wrapped around his wrists. “Yeah. Probably the least sore part of me.”
Another chuckle sneaks out of Keanu. Then he takes a deep, slow breath, and wraps his fingers around Gavin’s hand. “C’mere. It’s okay—I’m out till dinner, probably. Come on.”
Though Gavin’s got no idea what Keanu is up to, he creeps over. Keanu lifts himself up just enough to get his arm around Gavin, and when he lies back down, he pulls Gavin up against him, back to Keanu’s chest. Gives Gavin’s nape a nuzzle and lightly rests his hands on Gavin’s wrists. “I really like this, by the way. Still want to keep going?”
“How…long did you have in mind?” The jitters are back. Hopefully they don’t make Gavin’s voice shake too much.
“A while. I don’t know—till you get tired of limping around. We can order up food and talk about the details later or something. Call Gwen, all that.” Keanu’s mouth rests against the back of Gavin’s neck and stays there for a couple seconds before sliding gently away.
“Sounds good.” Gavin lets out a silent sigh of relief. And holds in a ridiculously excited grin. “Sounds great.”
***