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Graham is especially mouthy today. He’s in one of his moods, like the sound of the world carrying on around him is a personal affront. This always makes Damon a little nervous, especially when they’re out in public. Despite being relatively sober by their standards, Graham is so rude to the bartender that Damon feels the need to close out their tab and cart him home early. He didn’t much feel like sipping a rightfully spit-in beverage tonight.
On their way back, Damon has the vain thought that perhaps he can fuck the bad attitude out of Graham. After Graham’s latest snide comment, he proceeds to say as much. It had mostly been something rude to spit back at him, not a serious offer. Really, he’s expecting a smack in response more than anything else, but something behind Graham’s eyes changes. That’s how they end up practically racing each other back to Graham’s flat.
Unfortunately, Damon is incorrect about any mood enhancing qualities of his lay. He’s mostly just wearing himself out instead of Graham.
“Harder. Come on.” Graham pushes for the umpteenth time.
Damon is dripping sweat onto Graham’s stomach. His chin is tucked down into his collar bone, his fists planted on either side of Graham’s squirming torso. Damon is bucking into him wildly, has been for a few minutes now. Nonstop. He doesn’t know how ‘harder’ could accomplish anything more for Graham at this point. His heart might explode sooner. He has to do something drastic.
Damon shoves his hands under Graham’s shoulders. He heaves them both up before falling down onto his back. He exhales a sigh of relief that could reasonably be passed off as a noise knocked out by the splash down. Graham squeaks, slaps his hands down on Damon’s heaving chest to steady himself.
Damon puts his hands behind his head, nods, “Go on then.”
“What? What’s happening?”
“Take what you want. Go on.” Graham leans down to bury his face in Damon’s neck and moan—mostly colored in a grumpy way instead of a hot way. Damon pets over his shoulders, runs a hand up into Graham’s hair, and purposefully keeps his lower half still. If Graham wants more at this point, he’ll have to put in the work. It takes him a second, but he starts to move.
“Good boy,” says Damon. Graham’s hips stutter out of their already shaky rhythm before finding their way back. He stays hunched over, his face out of Damon’s view.
“Angle might be nicer if you sat up right,” Damon suggests, to Graham’s dismay. He seems to be avoiding putting himself on display, but Damon is ravenous to watch him.
Graham slowly unfurls, stilling his hips as he rises. He keeps his hands on Damon’s chest, sort of tries to hide his body behind his arms, like that does anything. He’s avoiding eye contact. Damon smiles.
“You know I’ve seen it all before.”
“Don’t make fun.” Graham’s bad mood flares again.
“‘M not. It’s true,” Damon insists.
“It’s different.”
“How?”
Graham struggles internally, it seeps out over his furrowed brow.
“Just is. You’re making it different.”
“How?” Damon presses.
“You’re looking at me harder.”
Damon shrugs, “I like what I see,” he runs his hands up Graham’s stomach and chest. Graham knocks them away.
“You’re annoying. Why’ve you sat me here? What’s gotten into you?”
Damon hums.
“I think wearing you out would do you some good tonight. Besides, you never take charge. You always let me lead.” Graham starts to squirm a little, but stops as he is quickly reminded of his position.
“That’s sort of how this particular act goes, yeah?"
“Not necessarily. Not when I put you up like this.” Damon gives a little thrust then to punctuate his point. Graham’s cock bobs with it, which he takes in hand to still, looking disappointed in his own body for trying to embarrass him. Then, like he’s just had the idea, he starts stroking. Damon grabs his wrist.
“You’re not seriously going to sit on me and wank!”
“Maybe I will! You wanted me to take care of myself!” Graham snaps.
“You’re being such a little bitch today, will you just fucking ride me already?”
“Fine!” Graham starts to lift back up, but freezes to say, “Don’t look at me for a second. Let me get my bearings.” Damon rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and throws up an arm dramatically to shield his gaze.
Graham puts his hands back on Damon’s chest. He knows how to go about it, but it seems like a lot of effort. He’s never really thought it was worth the trouble. He lifts himself up slowly before sinking back down. Damon bites his lip but does as he’s asked, letting Graham settle into his new position without his prying eyes on. That is, until about thirty seconds in when he gets impatient.
“Please, let me look. Please?” Damon begs.
Graham would much rather punish him at this very moment, but he also looks sufficiently worked up and Graham sort of wants to enjoy the view unobstructed.
“…Fine.”
Damon’s hands fly to Graham’s hips. His eyes go right to the spot down low where they’re meeting. He’s bending his neck in a way that can’t possibly be comfortable, it’s wrinkling extra chins into his loose skin. His mouth is hanging open and his lower lip is jutting out. Graham huffs a little laugh.
“What?” Damon asks.
“You look silly.”
“Don’t be mean. You’ll make me come.”
Graham laughs outright this time, “Sorry. Wouldn’t want that.”
Damon grabs a pillow and shoves it under his shoulders and neck, propping himself up.
“Better?”
“Mmm, the other position was doing it for me.”
“You are such a brat.” Damon gives a couple quick thrusts up into Graham, but it’s clearly not sustainable from his current position. It knocks a groan out of Graham regardless.
“God, what a waste. Just—why can’t you just—?”
Damon heaves a sigh before he discards his pillow. He jerks and scoots to sit up against the wall, bringing Graham with and steadying him in his lap by holding his ass. They’re quite suddenly face to face.
“Better?” Damon says, the tip of his nose brushing by Graham’s. Graham pushes past his flustered feeling in order to keep being a prick.
“Only if you start fucking me now.”
But Damon holds his ground. He moves his hands down under Graham and pushes him up. Graham goes. He lowers him back down. Graham shuts his eyes.
Damon is eventually able to stop guiding, Graham following the pace he set, even picking up a little. Damon reaches down between them to fist Graham’s cock while he rides. Graham tries to hold back a pleased noise, but just misses.
“See? ‘S nice. Didn’t have to fight me so hard. Sometimes I think you just like an argument.”
“Yeah? What of it?” Graham pants out.
“Could get off a lot faster if you just listened.”
Graham groans, “You… like a challenge.”
Damon starts thrusting up to meet Graham on his downswing. Graham moans in relief and throws his head back. He tries to stop riding, tries to let Damon take over.
“Ah, ah! Back to it!” He slaps Graham on the ass. Graham’s eyes shoot open.
“‘M not a toy!”
“‘Course not. Wouldn’t have to fight a toy.”
Graham starts grinding down in little circles instead of thrusting. Damon digs his fingers into Graham’s ass.
“Come oooon, Graham.”
“No, I’m getting mine. I’ve done all the work.”
“Now you know how I feel.” Damon starts thrusting up into him again, but Graham presses his hands down into his hips, stilling him.
“I said, I’m getting mine. Sit there.”
“You’re going to grind yourself on me until you finish? What am I meant to do?”
“Watch. Like you wanted. Maybe touch me if you’re feeling nice.”
Damon’s hands go to Graham’s chest immediately. He grabs at him like he’s got tits. It makes Graham a little hotter than it probably should, considering Damon is definitely taking the piss. But then Damon leans forward and takes one of his nipples in his mouth and Graham isn’t so sure anymore.
“Touch my dick with your other hand.” Graham breathes. Damon doesn’t need to be told twice.
“Sure you don’t need any more help?” Damon is furiously stroking Graham off while Graham continues his grind.
“You just want to come,” Graham answers, somehow still having some fight left in him despite edging closer and closer to orgasm. His cock is dribbling.
“Of course,” Damon says somewhat absently. He’s looking hard at the head of Graham’s dick as it appears and disappears in the ring of his hand.
Graham tilts his face down towards Damon. He’s got a look in his eyes again, the same one from earlier when Damon was rude to him on their walk home, before they played grab ass down the final blocks and stumbled over each other taking their clothes off, barely through Graham’s front door. He tilts Damon’s chin up. It takes a second for his eyes to drag away from the cock he’s working, but Graham needs him looking when he says,
“Go on, take what you want.”
Something cuts loose and Damon begins thrusting madly. His hand on Graham’s dick loses rhythm quickly in his desperate rush. Graham replaces his hand and chases his orgasm over the edge. It doesn't take him long before he comes between them with a cry, sitting down hard on Damon as he fucks up into him. Damon keeps up his relentless pace even after Graham finishes. Graham weakly lifts himself off a bit to try to avoid direct hits to his abused prostate. If Damon even notices, he’d be shocked.
“Fuck, fuck, Graham. I’m gonna come.” Graham pets through his sweat drenched hair.
“I know, Day. Go ahead. Come on.” Damon pulls him back down flush, which Graham winces against but allows. Damon pants into Graham, presses his face into whatever parts of him are within reach. Graham ducks down the little bit necessary to kiss Damon on his slack, open mouth.
Damon tips them back down, falling deadweight on top of Graham, squeezing a sad wheeze out of him in the press.
“Of course now you want to be on top.” Graham says from under the crush.
“Yes. You’re welcome. Now hush.”
“You are not falling asleep on me.”
“Why not?” It comes out of Damon as mostly one word.
“You’re still in me, for starters,” Graham correctly points out.
“Less clean up if I stay in. ‘M helping you. Stop squirming."
“You’re going to suffocate me.”
“You’re talking just fine, means you can breathe fine, too. Now hush.”
Clearly Damon didn’t run Graham ragged enough, because he still has the strength to wriggle out from under him. He takes himself to the bathroom. Damon isn’t awake for Graham’s return to bed, but Graham is at least feeling pleasant enough to try not to rouse him, which means Damon’s done something right tonight. Gotta takes his wins where he can.