Challenge #87 ~ Angst
for lostakasha who asked me for *my* David's pov on her slashthedrabble ficlet Fall.
Love yah, bay~bee
Touch My Soul
David Boreanaz/TJ Thyne
He’s been told he’s special his entire life. From his parents, from his sisters. From pretty sorority girls, from a few Professors. From his coaches, acting and sports. From his teammates and his buddies and his wife and not always with those words, but always with that meaning.
Producers. Directors. His management.
He’s been told his smile is gold. Told that his eyes are magnets, the way he walks, the size of his hands, the very breath he takes before speaking a line is magic.
He knows it’s all bullshit. That is always has been.
The façade of heterosexuality. The mask of confidence. The shrug when yet another movie goes straight to DVD and Amazon dot fucking com and why the hell can’t he break through to the big leagues? What does Tom Cruise have that he doesn’t? That he’s always had.
He runs through the anger and when that doesn’t work, he fucks it off.
Pretty co-star, blue eyes that hide nothing. Smooth skin tight over muscles and a smile that could stop David in his tracks. That had.
He loved the way the wired, curly hairs on TJ’s face felt. He loved the way TJ bent over for him, held his arms still while David tied them, and the way he writhed, tethered to the bed. David would slide down, cup that ass in his palms, thumbs pulling apart cheeks and he would devour TJ. Balls and cock and ass, using his teeth and his lips and his tongue, not leaving even one intimate spot unmarked, untouched.
The sound of the safe word startled David.
He was listening for yes, more and please, please … and not the red flare of *apple* stop.
He untied TJ’s strong arms, released his ankles. He touched the sweat that moved in stop-motion drops and he kissed that soft mouth. His own perfect passion taken down from a rolling boil to a low simmer. Salt and sex and secrets on David’s tongue.
Two minutes later he was alone on the bed. Not feeling so special, not feeling so good. Wet silk in his fingers and David couldn’t remember if he’d bought this particular blood-red tie or if it had been a gift. He could hear TJ moving in the bathroom, dressing, washing …
He wrapped the material tightly around his own wrist. Imagined someone above him, blood pounding through his veins. Someone holding him down. Keeping him in place. Taking away his precious control.
Soft hair brushing the inside of his thighs. Blue eyes looking up over his sweaty chest.
“Don’t fuck with me, cowboy.”
Gone and gone and gone. Over. Done.
That was then. This is now.
The silk unraveled from David’s wrist and his feet settled on the floor as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. His cock still hard, his body still tense. His desire as dear.
“Come back out here, TJ. Come back … out here …”
“Come here and touch me, TJ.