templemarker

by templemarker

Notes: For the “begging” square in kink_bingo. Brian/Dom, NC17, explicit sex, yadda yadda. Light spoilers through the fourth film. Thanks to affectingly.

***

“I thought you wanted this, Dom.”

Dom’s hands are grasping either side of the big, wide bed they bought last year. He’s struggling not to tear holes in the expensive sheets Mia gave them; he doesn’t want to think what he looks like, in the late afternoon sunlight, dark skin against white sheets. “I did. I do.”

Brian moves around the foot of the bed and Dom’s eyes are locked on him, on the tanned expanse of whiteboy flesh that has been in his bed every night for the last year. The bed Dom is now holding on to, because at dinner tonight over enchiladas and Modelo Especial Brian had pinned Dom to his chair with just those blue eyes of his and said he was going to make Dom ask for it.

“Then why are you acting like you don’t want to be here?” Brian asks, that hot edge in his voice that usually comes out right before he wraps his mouth around Dom’s cock. Dom shifts, uncomfortable, because this is making him itchy, making him question. Brian said to hold the bed, and he did it; Brian said to spread his legs, and he did it. But usually Brian asks him to, asks him with hands and lips and those fucking eyes of his; this time he’s telling, and Dom did it anyway.

Brian’s fingers skate up the length of Dom’s foot, making him twitch and jump. He still holds on to the bed, because Brian told him too, but it’s warring against his mind, which is screaming to stop this bullshit and get to the fucking already.

He’s not listening; it’s hard to listen to anything but the catch in Brian’s breath when something unexpected rolls out of Dom’s chest at the touch of calloused fingers on his inner thigh.

“Touch me,” Dom says, trying to figure out how to stop that thin note from coming out in his voice.

“No,” Brian says, and Dom can’t think of any time in the last fourteen months that Brian has denied him anything. Dom shifts on the bed, opens the eyes he doesn’t remember closing, and tries to remember how to breathe when Brian’s hand trails farther and farther away from where Dom really fucking wants it to be.

“I want your hand on my dick,” Dom says, because direct usually works with Brian. Brian loves to jerk him off, loves to watch him shake and grunt, tells him how hot it is all the time until Dom’s half hard again and ready to bend Brian over whatever available surface is at hand. This time, Brian just laughs and shoves his thumb hard into the tendon in Dom’s right foot, the one that always gives him trouble when he’s on his feet moving tires and shit all day long at their garage. The noise that Dom makes is something he’s never heard from his own mouth before, halfway between what he hears on his luckier nights with Brian and on the cliff edge of coming.

Brian hasn’t even touched his balls.

“See, Dom?” Brian says lowly, the way he talks when he knows Dom will follow him wherever he goes, the voice he gets before he does something stupid that Dom has to do too, like follow him out of a hijacked prison bus or admit he’s in love with Dom or some other crazy shit like that. He talks low and it’s like he owns Dom, and the scary fucking thing is that Dom figures he probably does. They own each other.

“You think you don’t like this, but you do. You keep trying to get more of my fingers on you, in you, and you think you don’t want to do it but your body’s saying otherwise,” Brian says, wetting one finger and pushing it up against Dom’s asshole without warning. Dom tries not to tense, can feel the fabric on those fucking sheets tearing under his fingers, but Brian hasn’t done anything more than lay three touches on him and he’s gonna come on just that and Brian’s voice if he doesn’t hold it fucking down.

“Say you want it,” Brian almost whispers, disturbing the hair on Dom’s thigh with his hot, wet mouth. His finger isn’t even working inside of Dom, just rests on the outside of his asshole like Brian could keep it there all day, like he could keep Dom on the edge all day. Dom would bet Brian probably could.

Dom’s hips twitch and cant upwards, and he can’t control them anymore, wants to grind down on Brian’s finger, on Brian’s cock; he wants Brian’s mouth on him, his hands everywhere on Dom’s skin. He just fucking wants Brian, and saying so seems like a small price to pay now, all worked up and nowhere to go.

“Please,” he grinds out, and it sounds breathy and weak as shit, but he doesn’t care because Brian sticks his finger in and bites his thigh and Dom comes all over himself like he’s thirteen thinking about Naomi Campbell.

When he stops shaking and can actually open his fucking eyes, Brian has Dom’s come on his face, and he’s licking it off like there’s nowhere he’d rather be, except maybe further up Dom’s ass. Brian looks up from his business and meets Dom’s eyes, a smirky smile forming on his face. Dom guesses he deserves to wear it, since he got what he wanted.

“Can I fuck you now?” Brian asks, pushing Dom’s legs further apart.

Well, maybe not everything.