Work Text:
“I had a dream about Bobby last night,” Buck says.
It’s early morning in his kitchen. He’s pushing eggs around in a pan, cooking them past what he would consider done for scrambled eggs, but Tommy doesn’t like his eggs ‘wet,’ and Buck is nothing but an accommodating partner.
“Yeah?” Tommy asks absently.
Tommy is usually more attentive, but he is not a morning person. He’s sitting at the island, scrolling on his phone. Sports Twitter, Buck would guess. His reading glasses are low on his nose in that way that drives Buck wild. He’s at least half a cup of coffee away from really tuning in.
“Yeah,” Buck continues, setting down the spatula. He’s half-turned towards the stove, half-turned towards Tommy. “Like, a sex dream. And I mean, I-I’ve had sex dreams about pretty much everyone over the years, so I don’t think it really means anything. This isn’t even the first one I’ve had about Bobby, but it’s the first one in a while. Definitely the first one I’ve had since I figured out I’m bi, so it was a little different. More, uh, vivid, I guess.”
Tommy hums to show he’s listening. He’s unbothered, so Buck continues on.
“I don’t know. It was clarifying,” Buck muses. “I think… I think I was into Bobby, back when I first started at the 118.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Tommy says without looking up.
Buck frowns. It surprised him. Every little reassessment of his past self’s sexuality feels like a big revelation—every little reminder that Buck has been bi his whole life, even if it took kissing Tommy to realize it. A year later, he still gets flashes of understanding like this, and they still manage to take him by surprise.
Waking up half hard with memories of how Bobby treated him during his first year at the 118—paired with the sudden clarity of why this wasn’t the first time he’d felt like this about Bobby—definitely took him by surprise.
“Why doesn’t that surprise you?” Buck asks.
Tommy gives him a dry look over the top of his glasses. “Well, you like it when I call you ‘kid’ in bed, for one thing.”
“Oh.”
Buck hadn’t put that together, but Tommy is right. His cock kicks just at the word coming out of Tommy’s mouth in this context; nevermind the lethal combination of the glasses, dry delivery, and sparkles of silver in his morning stubble catching the light. He’s so fucking hot.
“Then there’s the competency thing. The daddy issues. The fact that you like your men big.” Tommy smirks, raising a teasing eyebrow.
Buck blinks. A little smile forms on his lips. Tommy isn’t freaked out by Buck having a sex dream about another man while Tommy was in his bed. He isn’t shutting this down or getting uncomfortable or jealous. He’s egging Buck on. He likes this.
“One time he threw me against a wall,” Buck says, dazed at the memory. “Got right up in my face and told me how fucked up I was.”
Tommy perks up like the coffee hit him all at once. His eyes flit over Buck’s body, half-lidded, then back up to his face. He puts his phone down.
“Yeah? That do something for you?”
Buck nods. “Yeah. I felt his spit on my face and everything. I- I was a little scared he was gonna fire me again, but uh, but more than that… I didn’t understand why I was so hard.”
The full weight of Tommy’s stare bears down on Buck. “And now?”
“Now I’m surprised I didn’t come in my pants right there and then.”
Tommy hums appreciatively. The corner of his mouth pulls up in that delicious teasing way and his eyes darken. He’s definitely awake now.
Without taking his eyes off of Buck, he stands up and stalks across the kitchen. Buck stays still and lets Tommy press him against the small bit of counter between his stovetop and ovens. Buck barely remembers to reach over to turn the stove off before Tommy’s arms are on either side of Buck’s waist, palms flat on the countertop behind him. He’s blocking Buck in without really touching him: impersonal and intimate at the same time. Tommy isn’t that much taller than Buck—half an inch at most—but like this, it feels like he towers over him. Buck’s world is narrowed down to the bulk of Tommy’s body. It could be threatening, but there’s nowhere Buck has ever felt safer.
“You like that, kid?” Tommy asks, voice low and gravelly.
Breath coming fast, mouth falling open, Buck nods. Tommy still has his glasses on and Buck wants to whine.
“You’re not the only one who was into Bobby back in the day,” Tommy says, ghosting his lips over Buck’s jawline, up to his ear, making his breath hitch. “I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t a big part of the reason why I finally figured myself out.”
“Y-yeah?”
Buck’s dick is filling almost dizzyingly fast. He wraps his arms around Tommy’s back to keep him right where he is.
“Mhmm. He came out of nowhere and surprised me.” Tommy drops a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the bolt of Buck’s jaw. “Made the world seem a little better, a little brighter.” Teeth graze Buck’s earlobe. “He was so kind.” A kiss to Buck’s racing pulse point. “And smart.” Trailing lips up Buck’s neck to his ear. “And such a good cook.”
Buck’s brain is still working just well enough to be able to catch the implicit comparison Tommy is making between him and Bobby. He feels a flush down to his chest. “Tommy.”
“And he was hot, of course. Cornfed kind of bulky,” Tommy doubles down. He leans his body forward and presses it fully against Buck’s. “I like my men big, too.”
Buck’s big body is trapped between Tommy’s and the counter. Every inhale rubs their chests together, every exhale puts an unbearable amount of space between them. Buck’s hips rut forward of their own accord.
“You know, he’s the one who told me to transfer to Harbor.” Tommy grinds his hard cock against Buck’s through their sweatpants. The friction is delicious. “Supported me through my recertification. Moved my hours around. Made me feel like I deserved to be happy. He changed my life.”
Tommy moves one hand to Buck’s hip and digs in; not stilling his movements but slowing their rhythm to something filthier, more controlled.
“Me- me too,” Buck gasps. His cheeks glow hot with arousal and embarrassment at just how much this is doing it for him. “Set me on- on the right path—fuck—so many times. Told me where I was going wrong and- and made me fix it.”
Buck can make comparisons too.
“Mmm,” Tommy hums. “You like a firm hand.”
The hand on Buck’s hip slides into the scant space between them, down the front of his sweatpants. Tommy wraps that big, firm hand around Buck’s dick; already leaking with the force of his arousal.
“Yeah, yeah,” Buck pants. “I really do.”
By now, Tommy knows just how to touch him, how to tease him, how to work him up until he’s just this side of satisfied. It’s the most exquisite kind of torture, this touch that’s just short of enough.
Buck is reluctant to loosen his grip on Tommy’s back for even a moment, but he needs to get his hand on Tommy’s dick. He reaches down the front of Tommy’s sweatpants and starts stroking him too. He’ll never get tired of the velvety heft of Tommy’s dick, of the way it twitches and fills out further under his touch. It’s like a greeting, like a thousand little micro-approvals. Buck can’t get enough of it.
“Fuck, kid,” Tommy moans. He mouths at the side of Buck’s neck; his teeth catching and drawing a breathy sound out of Buck. The frame of his glasses scrapes along the side of Buck’s face.
“B-but it wasn’t just that,” Buck says. “He was a firm hand but also a- a guiding one. Showed me the ropes, and I could tell he- he really cared about me. He let me get away with so- so much he shouldn’t have.”
“Mmm. He indulged you.” Tommy digs his slick thumb into the spot under the head of Buck’s dick that makes him shiver.
“Y-yeah.”
“He saw something in you.” Tommy kisses Buck’s neck. “He believed in you.”
“Yeah,” Buck moans. It feels so fucking good. He’s losing focus, barely remembering to keep stroking Tommy.
“He thought you were special.” Tommy’s breath is hot in Buck’s ear. His hand speeds up, his grip tightens, he twists his wrist. “Are you special, kid? Huh? Do you deserve special treatment?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Buck pants enthusiastically.
“Have you earned it?”
Buck nods frantically, reduced to wordless little affirmative noises. He’s so close.
Tommy clicks his tongue. His hand suddenly stops all movement.
“I don’t think so. You have to earn it, kid. You have to be good.” Tommy gives a cruel little squeeze.
“No no no, I’m good!” Buck insists desperately, bucking his hips uselessly into Tommy’s unmoving hand. He feels wild. “Please, please, I’ve been good.”
“Prove it.”
The growl in Tommy’s voice sends tingles down to the base of Buck’s spine.
“Yeah, yeah,” Buck agrees readily.
He takes his hand out of Tommy’s pants to spit into it, then wraps it back around him. He’s still on the edge but he can focus more now that Tommy isn’t pulling out all the stops on him. He works his hand up and down Tommy’s length, twisting just the way Tommy likes.
“That’s good,” Tommy groans. “That’s good, kid, keep- keep- fuck, Evan.”
Tommy’s hips fuck forward into Buck’s hand like he can’t help it, and he lets out little grunts every time Buck’s fingers sweep slick over the head. A deep satisfaction burns in Buck’s chest.
Tommy is close: twitching hard and panting in Buck’s ear, glasses digging into Buck’s cheek. He just needs a little push over the edge.
“Wanna be good for you,” Buck says low and sweet. He sucks a hard kiss under Tommy’s jaw and then pulls back far enough to make Tommy look him in the eye. “Wanna make you happy. You deserve it, daddy.”
It’s not the first time they’ve played with this, but it’s rare enough that it still makes Tommy react like he’s been hit with a jolt of electricity. Surprise and lust and love flash across Tommy’s face just before it gives over to pure pleasure. He comes hot and wet in Buck’s hand with a deep, undignified groan. Buck strokes him through it.
When Tommy starts hitching his hips away in oversensitivity, Buck finally takes his hand away. He lets his eyes go wide, lifts his hand to his mouth, and licks off every last bitter drop. Tommy watches the movements of his tongue with rapt attention, the way he always does.
“Was that good?” Buck asks, faux innocence bleeding into real neediness. He reaches his spit-wet hand down and around to palm Tommy’s bare ass. “Was I good?”
“Fuck, baby,” Tommy says breathlessly, then he’s crashing their lips together for the first time all morning. He licks into Buck’s mouth almost reverently. “So fucking good.”
Buck whines high in his throat and thrusts into Tommy’s hand. Immediately, Tommy starts stroking him again: firm and fast, no teasing. Indulgent. Their kisses quickly devolve into nothing more than Buck moaning and panting into Tommy’s mouth; in love and undone.
“You look so gorgeous like this.” Tommy’s other hand comes up to cradle Buck’s face. He presses his thumb down on Buck’s lower lip and then kisses over it. “So good for me. You’ve earned it, kid.”
As if that was the string of words his body was waiting for, Buck comes with a loud moan. His hand digs into Tommy’s ass cheek as heat and pleasure surge through him. Tommy is still surrounding him, engulfing him, guiding him through it. Every last sensation is some form of Tommy Tommy Tommy feels good feels perfect feels right.
Tommy only slows his hand once he’s wrung every last drop from Buck. He leans away to wipe the mess on a kitchen towel that hangs off the handle of one of Buck’s ovens, but even that tiny bit of distance is too much for Buck. He grasps onto the back of Tommy’s neck and fits their mouths back together. Tommy moans in surprise and smiles against Buck's lips.
They trade deep, luxurious kisses as they come down. Buck sighs as ripples of residual pleasure wash through him: the afterglow of a spectacular orgasm made even better by Tommy’s lips and tongue soundly kissing him back to reality. His limbs are loose and a little shaky, but Tommy’s body pins him upright against the counter. He feels safe. He feels happy.
As his mind slowly clears, it all sinks in. Buck groans—not from pleasure this time, but from apprehension.
“I don’t know how I’m gonna look Bobby in the eye tomorrow,” he admits.
“You’re not,” Tommy says between kisses. “You’re going to avert your eyes and follow his orders, like a good boy.”
Buck laughs through another groan. His head falls back against the cabinet.
“You’re terrible,” he teases, grinning. “You’re a dirty old man.”
Tommy hums in agreement, smiling and leaning forward to press more languid kisses to Buck’s lips. “You say that like you don’t love it.”
“I do,” Buck laughs. “I really do.”
Breakfast forgotten, they kiss and kiss and kiss; lush and bright and joyful. Buck is so happy that he has this now—that he can have dreams like this and not feel like he has to brush them off or hide them. He knows what they mean now, and he can be honest both with a partner and with himself about that. Even if he wasn’t consciously holding these things back in his previous relationships or understandings of himself, there’s an ease and a clarity about it all that he didn’t have before Tommy.
Buck can’t stop smiling into their kisses. Tommy smiles back, and that’s the best thing about it.
Tommy meeting him on this same level, no questions asked—playing with him, encouraging him, giving him what he needs, loving it just as much as he does—makes Buck feel incredibly lucky. He feels light and free, supported and loved. He feels good.
It’s all he’s ever wanted.