(Marvel) Speed Bumps
February 13th, 2014 19:15![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salmon_pinkTitle: Speed Bumps
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: David/Tommy
Rating: NC-17
Words: 4286
Timeline: Post-Young Avengers V2 #15
Notes: For Porn Battle XV, prompt "David Alleyne/Tommy Shepherd - speed, seduction, coffee, noodles, kisses, movies, relief, galvanize, date, flirting, making out, cardigan sweater, exasperation, frenetic, vibrate, misunderstanding, deadpan".
Summary: They take their time, but they get there in the end.
The road to ‘boyfriends’ isn’t exactly a smooth one. But then David never expected it to be.
They don’t talk about the whole no-longer-human evil-except-not-evil Patriot experience. David never asks what exactly Tommy saw in not-Patriot’s eyes to make him run like that, to make him look that terrified. Tommy, for his part, never asks David what he’s figured out about the whole incident, or at least what he suspects.
Life goes back to normal. Which is an oxymoron for them, but David’s used to it at this point.
He and Tommy go back to work. They eat lunch together, which helps David get through the boredom and frustration of his job. Tommy complains about his latest attempt to live with the Kaplans, or Kate’s continued rejections of Tommy’s requests for sex, or how damn slow the service at every café they visit is.
David doesn’t point out that the service is just fine, even impressively quick. He’s learnt his lesson about subjective time and speedsters, and when Tommy’s hungry he gets that having to wait what’s only to David a few minutes probably feels like weeks.
He starts bringing snacks with him, little bags of trail mix or Nerdz, which he offers to Tommy silently whilst they wait for their food. Tommy grins and throws peanuts and candy in the air to catch in his mouth, not caring in the slightest about being discreet, even though David knows they could get kicked out any moment for having outside food in a restaurant, even one as seedy and unimpressive as the kind Tommy prefers.
Their first kiss isn’t really a kiss. It isn’t even really their first kiss, or their first not-a-kiss, but David doesn’t count that moment with not-Patriot, because it feels like that’s the future and the past rolled into one, and his and Tommy’s first kiss should be in the present.
They’re eating noodles, because those are Tommy’s favourites, probably because of how quickly they’re cooked. David isn’t really paying attention, it’s been a rough morning and he’s feeling tired in a way coffee is doing nothing to help. He’s absently sucking a needlessly long noodle up from his bowl, and he doesn’t notice that Tommy’s sucking the other end until they meet in the middle, mouths pressing briefly together.
David manages not to choke on the noodle, although it’s a close thing, and Tommy just goes back to eating. From his own bowl of noodles. That have been there the whole time. So there’s no reason he should have been helping himself to David’s.
“Wha-” is pretty much all David can manage.
Tommy squints at him for a long moment, then shakes his head in exaggerated sadness. “No appreciation for classic Disney,” he sighs, like David’s the one being ridiculous.
But David drops the subject, mostly because he doesn’t know what to say.
It’s only much later that he registers the way Tommy had tilted his head, so their mouths had met at the perfect angle.
He catches Tommy staring a few times, although never at his face. Tommy stares at David’s elbows, his hands, his knees, the space right above his heart. Always with this intense expression that David wishes he could translate, and that disappears the moment Tommy realises David is watching him.
Their first kiss, their first actual kiss, happens at work. It’s the end of their shifts, and they’re saying goodbye. They don’t always, Tommy’s often gone by the time David finishes for the day, but they’re both there and Tommy’s bouncing on the balls of his feet and chattering about some gross-sounding horror film he’s going to try and force Billy to sit through.
It happens in slow-motion, or at least that’s how it feels, which is ironic considering Tommy’s powers.
Tommy’s playing around, same way he’s always playing around. He grins, says, “Bye, Pookie.” Leans forward to give David a peck on the cheek, hands clasped behind his back, like some parody of a Fifties housewife. Playing, always playing, it’s just a joke. David gets it’s just a joke, but his body isn’t listening to his brain. His head turns before Tommy’s lips can find his cheek, so it’s his mouth there when the kiss lands. Brush of lips, and it could be just another not-a-kiss, but David’s hand grips Tommy’s chin and holds him tight. Makes it an actual kiss, brief but sincere, and Tommy pulls back with wide eyes.
He opens his mouth, but David cuts him off with a Look. It’s a look that rather clearly states ‘you’re a speedster, you could have stopped that any time, don’t pretend you couldn’t have been out of this building and halfway across the city in the moment before our lips met’.
Tommy’s mouth clicks closed.
“Bye, cupcake,” David deadpans, and turns for the door.
He doesn’t see Tommy for three days, until Tommy lets himself into David’s pitiful excuse for an office. He’s moving fast enough that most of David’s in-tray winds up fluttering to the floor.
“Lunch isn’t for another hour,” David informs him, but he disconnects his phone anyway. He’ll be in trouble for that later, but the slightly caged look in Tommy’s eyes is way more important.
Tommy shuts the door, opens it, shuts it again. Paces the office, first at speed, so he’s no more than a blur, which is impressive considering how little space there is. Then he slows down enough for David to see the movement.
“You’re an ass,” he says finally, glaring at David accusingly.
“You’re not?” David replies.
And then Tommy’s in his lap. One moment he’s the other side of David’s desk, next David’s chair is skidding back on squeaky wheels and Tommy’s plastered against his front. Fingers sliding over David’s scalp maddeningly, fast enough to make him shiver, but Tommy waits that extra second for David to register their new position.
Later, David will wonder how long that pause was in subjective speedster time.
Tommy kisses fast, barely there pressure that makes David’s lips buzz. Like it’s a dozen chaste kisses at once, and David has to get his hand up to cup the back of Tommy’s neck. Hold him still, which isn’t easy, because Tommy’s kind of fighting him, fidgeting and wriggling in this way that’s actually really distracting. Pushing back against David’s hold, but David doesn’t relent until the kiss slows down, until there’s more pressure, until it feels real.
Which is when Tommy punches him in the arm.
David lets go immediately, and between one blink and the next Tommy’s back on the other side of the desk.
“Should I not have done that?” David asks quietly. He still doesn’t understand the rules here.
“Yes, you should have done that,” Tommy grouses, like he didn’t just give David a dead arm. “Would have been pretty boring if you just sat there, right?”
David wants to sigh or pinch the bridge of his nose or maybe reach over and shake Tommy, just to see if he can hear Tommy’s brain rattle in his skull. Instead he asks, “So why-”
Tommy cuts him off. “Gotta go! Lunch isn’t for another hour.”
The door slams shut behind him.
Tommy doesn’t come to lunch that day. Or the next. It’s another week until he shows up, at which point he acts like nothing happened.
They go to lunch, David passes Tommy the packet of raisins from his pocket while they wait for their noodles, and Tommy talks about everything and nothing the whole time. He’s living alone again, in an apartment that he may or may not be squatting in, it’s hard to tell from the way Tommy describes it. He talks about Kate, and about Iron Man, who got into a pretty epic throw-down fight with AIM in the middle of Seattle, which the news has been playing footage of on a loop for the past three days.
After lunch they walk back to work in silence. At the door to the building, David asks, “Do you want to go out tonight?”
Tommy shrugs, hands shoved in his pockets and obviously trying for casual, but he’s not looking David in the eye. “Sure, we can hang out.”
“I’m not asking you to ‘hang out’,” David clarifies. “I’m asking you on a date.”
Tommy rocks on his heels for a moment, staring out into the street like he hasn’t heard. But then he says, “I don’t know, man, I’ve got a pretty full schedule this week.”
“Fine,” David says, and he’s disappointed but he doesn’t let it show in his voice. He’s starting to get that any kind of pressure is the surest way to make Tommy run for the hills. At superspeed. “You can let me know at the end of the day. You know where I’ll be.”
Tommy doesn’t show in David’s office. He stays nearly an hour past quitting time, just in case, but eventually he has to leave, because his boss is squalling about not paying him overtime and he just plain hates being sat at his desk any longer than necessary.
He’s almost at the subway when Tommy appears beside him, somehow looking both pale and flushed.
“You’re taking me to a movie,” Tommy informs him, falling into step beside him.
“I take it you’ve already picked which one?” David asks.
“Of course,” Tommy snorts. “You have terrible taste.” He grins then, free and easy, and David nods and tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding.
The movie turns out to be some God-awful Seventies creature feature, in a cinema that looks like it serves asbestos with its popcorn. David pays for his ticket, but Tommy insists there’s no way in hell he’s paying for his own.
David wants to offer to buy it for him, but Tommy’s already vanished, because apparently sneaking into movies without the bored-looking ushers noticing is one of the perks of superspeed.
Tommy’s already sat in the back row when David steps inside, trying not to grimace at how sticky the floor is. The film plays on a loop all evening, and David has no idea if they’re watching the beginning or the end, but he settles beside Tommy and tries to concentrate. There’s hardly anyone else there, and at least one of the other viewers is asleep. Besides that there’s a girl and guy who look even younger than David that are making out pretty enthusiastically a few rows forward, and an elderly woman who’s quietly unwrapping candy after candy but not eating any of it.
It’s a full twelve minutes before Tommy starts to squirm.
David figures he’s bored, because the movie is terrible, but then Tommy leans over the unpadded armrest and hisses, “This is a crappy date, if you’re not even going to try and feel me up at least a little.”
The armrest makes a loud cracking noise when David shoves it up and out of the way, which possibly indicates it’s not supposed to move, but he doesn’t care. Tommy’s hair is soft under his fingers, but his mouth is hard, like he wasn’t expecting a response to the jibe. David’s only shifting to get a better angle, but somehow his hand winds up bracing over Tommy’s thigh, and when he squeezes Tommy’s mouth falls open in shock.
He tastes like coffee, rich and warm and seriously sweet because Tommy abuses sweetener like nothing else, and he makes this tiny noise that can barely be heard over the movie when David licks his way inside Tommy’s mouth.
When David starts sucking on his tongue, Tommy gets a handful of David’s cardigan sweater, the one he’s gleefully teased David about in the past, and whimpers.
And fuck, David actually had plans to take things slow, to talk about what’s going on between them, for his own sanity if nothing else. But his fingers are digging into Tommy’s thigh without his permission, and when his teeth scrape lightly over Tommy’s tongue, Tommy starts clawing at him, and all his good intentions are rapidly disappearing.
But then Tommy starts wriggling like he’s trying to climb the back of his chair, like he’s trying to get away, and David jerks back, hands held up like he’s trying to prove he’s not carrying a weapon.
“I shouldn’t have-” he starts but Tommy shakes his head, gulping at the air like he’s suffocating.
“Subjective time, you ass,” he hisses, and his face is bright pink and he’s sort of rocking back against the chair, feet skidding over the floor.
David doesn’t need a genius-level IQ to get what he’s saying.
“Should I stop?” he asks, voice hushed, eyes flickering over the backs of the heads in front of them.
“I hate you,” Tommy mutters, looking miserable.
“What? Should I -” He stops, swallows thickly. “Do you want me to touch you?”
Tommy’s on his feet in an instant. “Date’s over,” he blurts, and the bottom of David’s stomach drops out.
“Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -”
“It’s fine,” Tommy says blankly, staring at the movie with glassy eyes. “I just have to go. You can ask me out again, okay?”
And then he’s gone.
David stays until the movie finishes and then starts again, mostly because he isn’t sure he can stand up.
“So, I can explain,” Tommy says the next day when he shows up at David’s office.
David nods slowly. When Tommy doesn’t say anything, he rolls his hand between them, like he’s waiting for more. When Tommy still doesn’t say anything, he says, “I’d appreciate that.”
“Basically, it’s your fault,” Tommy tells him.
David has to take a moment to remove his glasses and rub his eyes, because he can definitely feel a headache coming on.
“I’m not like this with other people, is what I’m saying,” Tommy snaps, like he’s determined to be the most exasperated person in the room.
“And by ‘like this’ you mean…” David trails off, but Tommy stubbornly glares at the wall, determined not to finish the thought. “You don’t have such an issue with subjective time and sex with other people, is that what you’re saying?”
Tommy’s head whips around to stare at him open-mouthed.
“I think this will be easier if we talk bluntly about it,” David explains, steepling his fingers in front of him, elbows on his desk.
“Wow, what a turn-on,” Tommy scoffs with a roll of his eyes.
“Look, maybe we can meet up outside of work, have a proper conversation about this,” David offers. He’s been thinking about this, about suggesting somewhere neutral, somewhere Tommy won’t feel fenced in. Somewhere public enough that Tommy might feel safe from David’s advances, but private enough they won’t be overheard. He just needs to make sure he doesn’t refer to it as a date, so Tommy won’t feel pressured.
Of course, Tommy has a habit of screwing up David’s plans, so he says, “Fine, you can take me on another date tonight.”
David just blinks at him in surprise. There aren’t many people who can leave him speechless, but Tommy makes it look effortless.
“I’ll see you after work,” Tommy shrugs, opening the door. “Also, you look like a supervillain when you sit like that.”
David’s used to counting the hours at work, but the day’s never moved so slowly.
It does give him a chance to think about subjective time, though. About how a kiss that seems intense to him must feel to Tommy, thirty seconds spread out over a subjective hour. About ways they can both help Tommy stay in the present, in the moment, because Tommy is capable of living at a normal speed, David’s seen him do it.
After work, Tommy texts to say he’s waiting in the lobby. David doesn’t suggest a possible location, even though he has a whole list. He lets Tommy decide, because giving Tommy as much freedom as possible seems important.
Tommy takes David home to his apartment.
It’s small, with not much furniture. David still isn’t sure if it actually belongs to Tommy, because the flurry of activity when they reached the door didn’t seem to involve a key, and he suspects Tommy just used superspeed to jimmy the lock, but he doesn’t comment.
Tommy flops back on the couch. David stays standing.
“Talk bluntly to me,” Tommy smirks, giving him a come-hither look.
David takes a deep breath. “I want to kiss you,” he says levelly. “Do you need to jerk off first?”
“You’re a bastard,” Tommy hisses, shifting so he’s crouched on the couch cushions like a coiled spring.
“I’m serious,” David insists firmly. “It may take the edge off, so maybe you won’t feel so wound up.”
“I’m not jerking off for you,” Tommy grumbles.
“I wasn’t going to watch!” David barks, because this boy is impossible.
“Just -” Tommy sighs, fidgets some more. “Just come here, okay?”
David takes a step closer.
“I’m not like this with other people,” Tommy mutters. “I’m good at this, trust me, never had any complaints.” He scrubs his hand over his face, eyes darting all over. “I don’t know why being with you means I can’t -”
“Can’t slow down?” David provides when Tommy doesn’t continue.
Tommy just nods miserably.
“So, when we kiss, you can’t stick to non-speedster time,” David says slowly. “You get too excited, too fast.” He holds up his hands again when Tommy glares at him. “You don’t have to be freaked out about it, you know. I’ve been in a lot of mutants heads, I know how it feels to use powers I’ve never had, remember?” He sits on the edge of the couch, keeping a respectable distance between them. “You don’t have to wait for me to keep up.”
Tommy snorts and crosses his arms, sinking into the cushions.
“You can go as fast as you want.”
That gets him a thoughtful look.
“Just tell me what I need to do.”
“You can start by shutting up and kissing me,” Tommy grouses, and he pushes up, walks on his knees across the couch until he’s pressed against David’s side. “And if you laugh, I swear to God I’ll make you regret it.”
“I’m not going to laugh,” David promises. He wants to add that the idea of watching Tommy fall over the edge for just a few minutes of kissing is one of the hottest things he can possibly think of, that he jerked off so much last night imagining it that he made himself light-headed.
“Fine, fine,” Tommy mutters, managing to make himself sound thoroughly put-upon, but he leans into David’s space, presses their foreheads together. “Kiss me then, you jerk.”
So David does. He grips Tommy’s shoulders and kisses him, makes it as gentle as he can. Turning without breaking apart until they’re facing each other on the couch, keeping things light, hoping it allows Tommy to adjust.
They kiss slow, leisurely, and David thinks that maybe it’s working, maybe Tommy’s staying with him, staying in the moment and not speeding ahead. But then Tommy jerks back with a hiss, glaring at David like he’s just spat in his coffee. Doesn’t even give David a chance to ask what he can do to make this easier for Tommy, just shows him, pushing back into the kiss and making it deeper, wetter, dirtier. David can hear the noises they’re making, hands moving into Tommy’s hair, mussing it and tugging at it, intentions of being gentle be damned.
He curls his tongue against the roof of Tommy’s mouth, and Tommy starts to shake.
David pushes, pushes the limits, pushes Tommy, urging him to lean back until he’s half-sitting, half-lying on the couch. Kissing insistent, thumbnails scratching a line down Tommy’s neck, and Tommy writhes beneath him like a wet dream. Legs shaking uncontrollably when David slips between them, hands fisted in the fabric of the cushion, and when David pulls back Tommy’s eyes are squeezed tightly shut, sweat shining on his brow.
“Do you want me to touch you?” he asks, same question from the movie, but this time his voice is deep and husky and Tommy gasps, hips pushing up against air.
“Pleasepleaseplease.” Repeated like a mantra, so fast David can barely make it out.
He presses his mouth against Tommy’s cheek and his hand between Tommy’s legs, and Tommy howls, making the hair on the back of David’s neck stand up. Thrashing underneath him, and David rubs the heel of his palm over the firm outline of Tommy’s dick through his jeans, feels the rush of moisture and heat when Tommy comes.
David doesn’t let go, even when Tommy starts making wrecked little noises and grabbing weakly at David’s clothes. Because David has all these theories about speedsters and recovery times, and Tommy isn’t getting soft at all. “How many times do you think you need to get off before you can calm down?” he murmurs, lips sliding against Tommy’s jaw.
“Oh, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,” Tommy whines, hips pushing up into David’s grip.
“Two?” David presses, and he’s getting rougher in the way he’s massaging Tommy’s crotch now, his own hips rocking against air as he kneels over Tommy’s sprawled form. “Three? More? Tell me what you need.”
“You are the biggest fucking -” Tommy growls, but it’s a weak sound and he’s clinging to David’s shoulders like he doesn’t know how to let go. “Don’t stop, I will kill you if you stop.”
“Won’t stop,” David promises. “I’ll give you whatever you need.” He bites at Tommy’s ear, and Tommy’s trembling so hard it feels like he’s barely a breath away from vibrating. “What would you do if I put my mouth on you?”
Tommy keens and spasms and David strokes him through it. “That’s two,” he whispers hoarsely, dodging Tommy’s feeble excuse for a kick. “You think about my mouth a lot?”
“I hate your fucking mouth,” Tommy moans in a way that makes it very clear that, yes, he does think about David’s mouth a lot.
“I’ve never done that before,” David admits. “But trust me, I know how to make it good for you. I know it all, know every trick out there.” Tommy’s eyelashes are wet, tear-tracks running from the corners of his eyes to his hairline. “I think about it, you know. Think about trying it all out on you.”
“I can’t,” Tommy moans pitifully, even though his hips are still working. “Please, you’re killing me, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” David murmurs, cupping Tommy’s balls roughly through the denim. “Once more, then we take a break, okay? Then we can make-out and talk and whatever you want, okay?”
“Yeah, okay, okay,” Tommy agrees dazedly, and David’s never seen him this compliant, doesn’t think anyone’s seen him this compliant. “Please, David, please.”
“Good boy.” It slips out, and he expects Tommy to bristle, but he just groans, throat working around the sound. He knows Tommy likes to brag, but he can’t help but wonder who’s ever given it to Tommy like this before, who’s let Tommy come fast and as much as he needs to.
Judging by the way Tommy had been so embarrassed about the whole thing, David’s guessing nobody.
“You’re so close,” he purrs, fingers stroking and scratching at the thick fabric between Tommy’s legs. “Can already tell. Want to get you naked after this, want to see you lose it without these jeans in the way.”
“Want skin,” Tommy agrees mindlessly, head rubbing back and forth against the cushion. “Want to feel your skin.”
“I want you so much,” David admits, and even after all this it still feels liberating to say it out loud. “Want to touch you, taste you.”
“Anything,” Tommy blurts out. “I’d let you do anything, God, you don’t even know. If you’d held me down in that cinema, shit.”
“I want to fuck you,” David growls, words spilling out before he can hold them back, and Tommy jams his knuckles into his mouth to muffle his scream as he comes again.
They’re both panting, still clutching each other. David’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, and Tommy looks absolutely destroyed, hair a mess, lips flushed and bitten bruised.
“Jesus Christ,” Tommy breathes, looking awed.
David can only nod mutely.
“I think I might actually need a full half hour to recover from that.”
Laughing feels like being stroked from the inside, and David groans and drops his head to Tommy’s shoulder.
“Your turn now, right?”
“You don’t have to,” David insists, even though the words feel like glass in his throat.
“That’s a joke, right?” Tommy snorts. “I really should have listened to my brother about this gay sex thing.”
“Can we not talk about your brother right now?” David objects.
“Yeah, no, totally,” Tommy snickers. “It’s just that he’s going to get all… giddy and stuff when I tell him his twin has a boyfriend too.”
“Wait a moment, we’re ‘boyfriends’ now?”
“Dude, after that, how could we not be?” Tommy scoffs, and David can feel the smile spreading over his face, honest and happy. “So I need to take your pants off, like, immediately, okay? Also, my own, because yuck.”
“We can do that,” David agrees.
“Also, I haven’t actually had a dick in my mouth before,” Tommy informs him, almost conversationally. “But just for the record, I can vibrate my tongue.”
David’s fingers dig into the couch hard enough he’s surprised he doesn’t tear through the material. “Fuck, show me,” he manages to hiss out between gritted teeth.
Tommy smirks up him, arrogant but also excited, before doing exactly what he’s told like the considerate boyfriend he totally isn’t going to be.
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: David/Tommy
Rating: NC-17
Words: 4286
Timeline: Post-Young Avengers V2 #15
Notes: For Porn Battle XV, prompt "David Alleyne/Tommy Shepherd - speed, seduction, coffee, noodles, kisses, movies, relief, galvanize, date, flirting, making out, cardigan sweater, exasperation, frenetic, vibrate, misunderstanding, deadpan".
Summary: They take their time, but they get there in the end.
The road to ‘boyfriends’ isn’t exactly a smooth one. But then David never expected it to be.
They don’t talk about the whole no-longer-human evil-except-not-evil Patriot experience. David never asks what exactly Tommy saw in not-Patriot’s eyes to make him run like that, to make him look that terrified. Tommy, for his part, never asks David what he’s figured out about the whole incident, or at least what he suspects.
Life goes back to normal. Which is an oxymoron for them, but David’s used to it at this point.
He and Tommy go back to work. They eat lunch together, which helps David get through the boredom and frustration of his job. Tommy complains about his latest attempt to live with the Kaplans, or Kate’s continued rejections of Tommy’s requests for sex, or how damn slow the service at every café they visit is.
David doesn’t point out that the service is just fine, even impressively quick. He’s learnt his lesson about subjective time and speedsters, and when Tommy’s hungry he gets that having to wait what’s only to David a few minutes probably feels like weeks.
He starts bringing snacks with him, little bags of trail mix or Nerdz, which he offers to Tommy silently whilst they wait for their food. Tommy grins and throws peanuts and candy in the air to catch in his mouth, not caring in the slightest about being discreet, even though David knows they could get kicked out any moment for having outside food in a restaurant, even one as seedy and unimpressive as the kind Tommy prefers.
Their first kiss isn’t really a kiss. It isn’t even really their first kiss, or their first not-a-kiss, but David doesn’t count that moment with not-Patriot, because it feels like that’s the future and the past rolled into one, and his and Tommy’s first kiss should be in the present.
They’re eating noodles, because those are Tommy’s favourites, probably because of how quickly they’re cooked. David isn’t really paying attention, it’s been a rough morning and he’s feeling tired in a way coffee is doing nothing to help. He’s absently sucking a needlessly long noodle up from his bowl, and he doesn’t notice that Tommy’s sucking the other end until they meet in the middle, mouths pressing briefly together.
David manages not to choke on the noodle, although it’s a close thing, and Tommy just goes back to eating. From his own bowl of noodles. That have been there the whole time. So there’s no reason he should have been helping himself to David’s.
“Wha-” is pretty much all David can manage.
Tommy squints at him for a long moment, then shakes his head in exaggerated sadness. “No appreciation for classic Disney,” he sighs, like David’s the one being ridiculous.
But David drops the subject, mostly because he doesn’t know what to say.
It’s only much later that he registers the way Tommy had tilted his head, so their mouths had met at the perfect angle.
He catches Tommy staring a few times, although never at his face. Tommy stares at David’s elbows, his hands, his knees, the space right above his heart. Always with this intense expression that David wishes he could translate, and that disappears the moment Tommy realises David is watching him.
Their first kiss, their first actual kiss, happens at work. It’s the end of their shifts, and they’re saying goodbye. They don’t always, Tommy’s often gone by the time David finishes for the day, but they’re both there and Tommy’s bouncing on the balls of his feet and chattering about some gross-sounding horror film he’s going to try and force Billy to sit through.
It happens in slow-motion, or at least that’s how it feels, which is ironic considering Tommy’s powers.
Tommy’s playing around, same way he’s always playing around. He grins, says, “Bye, Pookie.” Leans forward to give David a peck on the cheek, hands clasped behind his back, like some parody of a Fifties housewife. Playing, always playing, it’s just a joke. David gets it’s just a joke, but his body isn’t listening to his brain. His head turns before Tommy’s lips can find his cheek, so it’s his mouth there when the kiss lands. Brush of lips, and it could be just another not-a-kiss, but David’s hand grips Tommy’s chin and holds him tight. Makes it an actual kiss, brief but sincere, and Tommy pulls back with wide eyes.
He opens his mouth, but David cuts him off with a Look. It’s a look that rather clearly states ‘you’re a speedster, you could have stopped that any time, don’t pretend you couldn’t have been out of this building and halfway across the city in the moment before our lips met’.
Tommy’s mouth clicks closed.
“Bye, cupcake,” David deadpans, and turns for the door.
He doesn’t see Tommy for three days, until Tommy lets himself into David’s pitiful excuse for an office. He’s moving fast enough that most of David’s in-tray winds up fluttering to the floor.
“Lunch isn’t for another hour,” David informs him, but he disconnects his phone anyway. He’ll be in trouble for that later, but the slightly caged look in Tommy’s eyes is way more important.
Tommy shuts the door, opens it, shuts it again. Paces the office, first at speed, so he’s no more than a blur, which is impressive considering how little space there is. Then he slows down enough for David to see the movement.
“You’re an ass,” he says finally, glaring at David accusingly.
“You’re not?” David replies.
And then Tommy’s in his lap. One moment he’s the other side of David’s desk, next David’s chair is skidding back on squeaky wheels and Tommy’s plastered against his front. Fingers sliding over David’s scalp maddeningly, fast enough to make him shiver, but Tommy waits that extra second for David to register their new position.
Later, David will wonder how long that pause was in subjective speedster time.
Tommy kisses fast, barely there pressure that makes David’s lips buzz. Like it’s a dozen chaste kisses at once, and David has to get his hand up to cup the back of Tommy’s neck. Hold him still, which isn’t easy, because Tommy’s kind of fighting him, fidgeting and wriggling in this way that’s actually really distracting. Pushing back against David’s hold, but David doesn’t relent until the kiss slows down, until there’s more pressure, until it feels real.
Which is when Tommy punches him in the arm.
David lets go immediately, and between one blink and the next Tommy’s back on the other side of the desk.
“Should I not have done that?” David asks quietly. He still doesn’t understand the rules here.
“Yes, you should have done that,” Tommy grouses, like he didn’t just give David a dead arm. “Would have been pretty boring if you just sat there, right?”
David wants to sigh or pinch the bridge of his nose or maybe reach over and shake Tommy, just to see if he can hear Tommy’s brain rattle in his skull. Instead he asks, “So why-”
Tommy cuts him off. “Gotta go! Lunch isn’t for another hour.”
The door slams shut behind him.
Tommy doesn’t come to lunch that day. Or the next. It’s another week until he shows up, at which point he acts like nothing happened.
They go to lunch, David passes Tommy the packet of raisins from his pocket while they wait for their noodles, and Tommy talks about everything and nothing the whole time. He’s living alone again, in an apartment that he may or may not be squatting in, it’s hard to tell from the way Tommy describes it. He talks about Kate, and about Iron Man, who got into a pretty epic throw-down fight with AIM in the middle of Seattle, which the news has been playing footage of on a loop for the past three days.
After lunch they walk back to work in silence. At the door to the building, David asks, “Do you want to go out tonight?”
Tommy shrugs, hands shoved in his pockets and obviously trying for casual, but he’s not looking David in the eye. “Sure, we can hang out.”
“I’m not asking you to ‘hang out’,” David clarifies. “I’m asking you on a date.”
Tommy rocks on his heels for a moment, staring out into the street like he hasn’t heard. But then he says, “I don’t know, man, I’ve got a pretty full schedule this week.”
“Fine,” David says, and he’s disappointed but he doesn’t let it show in his voice. He’s starting to get that any kind of pressure is the surest way to make Tommy run for the hills. At superspeed. “You can let me know at the end of the day. You know where I’ll be.”
Tommy doesn’t show in David’s office. He stays nearly an hour past quitting time, just in case, but eventually he has to leave, because his boss is squalling about not paying him overtime and he just plain hates being sat at his desk any longer than necessary.
He’s almost at the subway when Tommy appears beside him, somehow looking both pale and flushed.
“You’re taking me to a movie,” Tommy informs him, falling into step beside him.
“I take it you’ve already picked which one?” David asks.
“Of course,” Tommy snorts. “You have terrible taste.” He grins then, free and easy, and David nods and tries to ignore the way his heart is pounding.
The movie turns out to be some God-awful Seventies creature feature, in a cinema that looks like it serves asbestos with its popcorn. David pays for his ticket, but Tommy insists there’s no way in hell he’s paying for his own.
David wants to offer to buy it for him, but Tommy’s already vanished, because apparently sneaking into movies without the bored-looking ushers noticing is one of the perks of superspeed.
Tommy’s already sat in the back row when David steps inside, trying not to grimace at how sticky the floor is. The film plays on a loop all evening, and David has no idea if they’re watching the beginning or the end, but he settles beside Tommy and tries to concentrate. There’s hardly anyone else there, and at least one of the other viewers is asleep. Besides that there’s a girl and guy who look even younger than David that are making out pretty enthusiastically a few rows forward, and an elderly woman who’s quietly unwrapping candy after candy but not eating any of it.
It’s a full twelve minutes before Tommy starts to squirm.
David figures he’s bored, because the movie is terrible, but then Tommy leans over the unpadded armrest and hisses, “This is a crappy date, if you’re not even going to try and feel me up at least a little.”
The armrest makes a loud cracking noise when David shoves it up and out of the way, which possibly indicates it’s not supposed to move, but he doesn’t care. Tommy’s hair is soft under his fingers, but his mouth is hard, like he wasn’t expecting a response to the jibe. David’s only shifting to get a better angle, but somehow his hand winds up bracing over Tommy’s thigh, and when he squeezes Tommy’s mouth falls open in shock.
He tastes like coffee, rich and warm and seriously sweet because Tommy abuses sweetener like nothing else, and he makes this tiny noise that can barely be heard over the movie when David licks his way inside Tommy’s mouth.
When David starts sucking on his tongue, Tommy gets a handful of David’s cardigan sweater, the one he’s gleefully teased David about in the past, and whimpers.
And fuck, David actually had plans to take things slow, to talk about what’s going on between them, for his own sanity if nothing else. But his fingers are digging into Tommy’s thigh without his permission, and when his teeth scrape lightly over Tommy’s tongue, Tommy starts clawing at him, and all his good intentions are rapidly disappearing.
But then Tommy starts wriggling like he’s trying to climb the back of his chair, like he’s trying to get away, and David jerks back, hands held up like he’s trying to prove he’s not carrying a weapon.
“I shouldn’t have-” he starts but Tommy shakes his head, gulping at the air like he’s suffocating.
“Subjective time, you ass,” he hisses, and his face is bright pink and he’s sort of rocking back against the chair, feet skidding over the floor.
David doesn’t need a genius-level IQ to get what he’s saying.
“Should I stop?” he asks, voice hushed, eyes flickering over the backs of the heads in front of them.
“I hate you,” Tommy mutters, looking miserable.
“What? Should I -” He stops, swallows thickly. “Do you want me to touch you?”
Tommy’s on his feet in an instant. “Date’s over,” he blurts, and the bottom of David’s stomach drops out.
“Wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -”
“It’s fine,” Tommy says blankly, staring at the movie with glassy eyes. “I just have to go. You can ask me out again, okay?”
And then he’s gone.
David stays until the movie finishes and then starts again, mostly because he isn’t sure he can stand up.
“So, I can explain,” Tommy says the next day when he shows up at David’s office.
David nods slowly. When Tommy doesn’t say anything, he rolls his hand between them, like he’s waiting for more. When Tommy still doesn’t say anything, he says, “I’d appreciate that.”
“Basically, it’s your fault,” Tommy tells him.
David has to take a moment to remove his glasses and rub his eyes, because he can definitely feel a headache coming on.
“I’m not like this with other people, is what I’m saying,” Tommy snaps, like he’s determined to be the most exasperated person in the room.
“And by ‘like this’ you mean…” David trails off, but Tommy stubbornly glares at the wall, determined not to finish the thought. “You don’t have such an issue with subjective time and sex with other people, is that what you’re saying?”
Tommy’s head whips around to stare at him open-mouthed.
“I think this will be easier if we talk bluntly about it,” David explains, steepling his fingers in front of him, elbows on his desk.
“Wow, what a turn-on,” Tommy scoffs with a roll of his eyes.
“Look, maybe we can meet up outside of work, have a proper conversation about this,” David offers. He’s been thinking about this, about suggesting somewhere neutral, somewhere Tommy won’t feel fenced in. Somewhere public enough that Tommy might feel safe from David’s advances, but private enough they won’t be overheard. He just needs to make sure he doesn’t refer to it as a date, so Tommy won’t feel pressured.
Of course, Tommy has a habit of screwing up David’s plans, so he says, “Fine, you can take me on another date tonight.”
David just blinks at him in surprise. There aren’t many people who can leave him speechless, but Tommy makes it look effortless.
“I’ll see you after work,” Tommy shrugs, opening the door. “Also, you look like a supervillain when you sit like that.”
David’s used to counting the hours at work, but the day’s never moved so slowly.
It does give him a chance to think about subjective time, though. About how a kiss that seems intense to him must feel to Tommy, thirty seconds spread out over a subjective hour. About ways they can both help Tommy stay in the present, in the moment, because Tommy is capable of living at a normal speed, David’s seen him do it.
After work, Tommy texts to say he’s waiting in the lobby. David doesn’t suggest a possible location, even though he has a whole list. He lets Tommy decide, because giving Tommy as much freedom as possible seems important.
Tommy takes David home to his apartment.
It’s small, with not much furniture. David still isn’t sure if it actually belongs to Tommy, because the flurry of activity when they reached the door didn’t seem to involve a key, and he suspects Tommy just used superspeed to jimmy the lock, but he doesn’t comment.
Tommy flops back on the couch. David stays standing.
“Talk bluntly to me,” Tommy smirks, giving him a come-hither look.
David takes a deep breath. “I want to kiss you,” he says levelly. “Do you need to jerk off first?”
“You’re a bastard,” Tommy hisses, shifting so he’s crouched on the couch cushions like a coiled spring.
“I’m serious,” David insists firmly. “It may take the edge off, so maybe you won’t feel so wound up.”
“I’m not jerking off for you,” Tommy grumbles.
“I wasn’t going to watch!” David barks, because this boy is impossible.
“Just -” Tommy sighs, fidgets some more. “Just come here, okay?”
David takes a step closer.
“I’m not like this with other people,” Tommy mutters. “I’m good at this, trust me, never had any complaints.” He scrubs his hand over his face, eyes darting all over. “I don’t know why being with you means I can’t -”
“Can’t slow down?” David provides when Tommy doesn’t continue.
Tommy just nods miserably.
“So, when we kiss, you can’t stick to non-speedster time,” David says slowly. “You get too excited, too fast.” He holds up his hands again when Tommy glares at him. “You don’t have to be freaked out about it, you know. I’ve been in a lot of mutants heads, I know how it feels to use powers I’ve never had, remember?” He sits on the edge of the couch, keeping a respectable distance between them. “You don’t have to wait for me to keep up.”
Tommy snorts and crosses his arms, sinking into the cushions.
“You can go as fast as you want.”
That gets him a thoughtful look.
“Just tell me what I need to do.”
“You can start by shutting up and kissing me,” Tommy grouses, and he pushes up, walks on his knees across the couch until he’s pressed against David’s side. “And if you laugh, I swear to God I’ll make you regret it.”
“I’m not going to laugh,” David promises. He wants to add that the idea of watching Tommy fall over the edge for just a few minutes of kissing is one of the hottest things he can possibly think of, that he jerked off so much last night imagining it that he made himself light-headed.
“Fine, fine,” Tommy mutters, managing to make himself sound thoroughly put-upon, but he leans into David’s space, presses their foreheads together. “Kiss me then, you jerk.”
So David does. He grips Tommy’s shoulders and kisses him, makes it as gentle as he can. Turning without breaking apart until they’re facing each other on the couch, keeping things light, hoping it allows Tommy to adjust.
They kiss slow, leisurely, and David thinks that maybe it’s working, maybe Tommy’s staying with him, staying in the moment and not speeding ahead. But then Tommy jerks back with a hiss, glaring at David like he’s just spat in his coffee. Doesn’t even give David a chance to ask what he can do to make this easier for Tommy, just shows him, pushing back into the kiss and making it deeper, wetter, dirtier. David can hear the noises they’re making, hands moving into Tommy’s hair, mussing it and tugging at it, intentions of being gentle be damned.
He curls his tongue against the roof of Tommy’s mouth, and Tommy starts to shake.
David pushes, pushes the limits, pushes Tommy, urging him to lean back until he’s half-sitting, half-lying on the couch. Kissing insistent, thumbnails scratching a line down Tommy’s neck, and Tommy writhes beneath him like a wet dream. Legs shaking uncontrollably when David slips between them, hands fisted in the fabric of the cushion, and when David pulls back Tommy’s eyes are squeezed tightly shut, sweat shining on his brow.
“Do you want me to touch you?” he asks, same question from the movie, but this time his voice is deep and husky and Tommy gasps, hips pushing up against air.
“Pleasepleaseplease.” Repeated like a mantra, so fast David can barely make it out.
He presses his mouth against Tommy’s cheek and his hand between Tommy’s legs, and Tommy howls, making the hair on the back of David’s neck stand up. Thrashing underneath him, and David rubs the heel of his palm over the firm outline of Tommy’s dick through his jeans, feels the rush of moisture and heat when Tommy comes.
David doesn’t let go, even when Tommy starts making wrecked little noises and grabbing weakly at David’s clothes. Because David has all these theories about speedsters and recovery times, and Tommy isn’t getting soft at all. “How many times do you think you need to get off before you can calm down?” he murmurs, lips sliding against Tommy’s jaw.
“Oh, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,” Tommy whines, hips pushing up into David’s grip.
“Two?” David presses, and he’s getting rougher in the way he’s massaging Tommy’s crotch now, his own hips rocking against air as he kneels over Tommy’s sprawled form. “Three? More? Tell me what you need.”
“You are the biggest fucking -” Tommy growls, but it’s a weak sound and he’s clinging to David’s shoulders like he doesn’t know how to let go. “Don’t stop, I will kill you if you stop.”
“Won’t stop,” David promises. “I’ll give you whatever you need.” He bites at Tommy’s ear, and Tommy’s trembling so hard it feels like he’s barely a breath away from vibrating. “What would you do if I put my mouth on you?”
Tommy keens and spasms and David strokes him through it. “That’s two,” he whispers hoarsely, dodging Tommy’s feeble excuse for a kick. “You think about my mouth a lot?”
“I hate your fucking mouth,” Tommy moans in a way that makes it very clear that, yes, he does think about David’s mouth a lot.
“I’ve never done that before,” David admits. “But trust me, I know how to make it good for you. I know it all, know every trick out there.” Tommy’s eyelashes are wet, tear-tracks running from the corners of his eyes to his hairline. “I think about it, you know. Think about trying it all out on you.”
“I can’t,” Tommy moans pitifully, even though his hips are still working. “Please, you’re killing me, I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” David murmurs, cupping Tommy’s balls roughly through the denim. “Once more, then we take a break, okay? Then we can make-out and talk and whatever you want, okay?”
“Yeah, okay, okay,” Tommy agrees dazedly, and David’s never seen him this compliant, doesn’t think anyone’s seen him this compliant. “Please, David, please.”
“Good boy.” It slips out, and he expects Tommy to bristle, but he just groans, throat working around the sound. He knows Tommy likes to brag, but he can’t help but wonder who’s ever given it to Tommy like this before, who’s let Tommy come fast and as much as he needs to.
Judging by the way Tommy had been so embarrassed about the whole thing, David’s guessing nobody.
“You’re so close,” he purrs, fingers stroking and scratching at the thick fabric between Tommy’s legs. “Can already tell. Want to get you naked after this, want to see you lose it without these jeans in the way.”
“Want skin,” Tommy agrees mindlessly, head rubbing back and forth against the cushion. “Want to feel your skin.”
“I want you so much,” David admits, and even after all this it still feels liberating to say it out loud. “Want to touch you, taste you.”
“Anything,” Tommy blurts out. “I’d let you do anything, God, you don’t even know. If you’d held me down in that cinema, shit.”
“I want to fuck you,” David growls, words spilling out before he can hold them back, and Tommy jams his knuckles into his mouth to muffle his scream as he comes again.
They’re both panting, still clutching each other. David’s harder than he’s ever been in his life, and Tommy looks absolutely destroyed, hair a mess, lips flushed and bitten bruised.
“Jesus Christ,” Tommy breathes, looking awed.
David can only nod mutely.
“I think I might actually need a full half hour to recover from that.”
Laughing feels like being stroked from the inside, and David groans and drops his head to Tommy’s shoulder.
“Your turn now, right?”
“You don’t have to,” David insists, even though the words feel like glass in his throat.
“That’s a joke, right?” Tommy snorts. “I really should have listened to my brother about this gay sex thing.”
“Can we not talk about your brother right now?” David objects.
“Yeah, no, totally,” Tommy snickers. “It’s just that he’s going to get all… giddy and stuff when I tell him his twin has a boyfriend too.”
“Wait a moment, we’re ‘boyfriends’ now?”
“Dude, after that, how could we not be?” Tommy scoffs, and David can feel the smile spreading over his face, honest and happy. “So I need to take your pants off, like, immediately, okay? Also, my own, because yuck.”
“We can do that,” David agrees.
“Also, I haven’t actually had a dick in my mouth before,” Tommy informs him, almost conversationally. “But just for the record, I can vibrate my tongue.”
David’s fingers dig into the couch hard enough he’s surprised he doesn’t tear through the material. “Fuck, show me,” he manages to hiss out between gritted teeth.
Tommy smirks up him, arrogant but also excited, before doing exactly what he’s told like the considerate boyfriend he totally isn’t going to be.
