Celandine's Chronicle (celandineb) wrote in cels_fic_haven, @ 2008-02-29 08:31:00 |
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Entry tags: | hb fic dakin/irwin |
HB fic: Sir [Irwin/Dakin, adult]
Title: Sir
Author: celandineb
Fandom: History Boys
Pairing: Irwin/Dakin
Rating: adult
Warnings: dirty talk
Summary: Dakin lives out a fantasy.
Note: Teenyfic, 446 words.
"Oh – sir – sir –"
The words slip out before Dakin can censor them. The rhythm of Irwin's movement falters for an instant; then he picks it up again, thrusting faster, more fiercely, against Dakin's body, his fingers digging into Dakin's hips until he has come.
After he has pulled out, carefully knotting the used condom and tossing it into the wastebasket, Irwin tugs at Dakin's shoulder, rolling him over so that their eyes meet. He has already put his glasses back on, but he reaches for Dakin's unsatisfied cock as he demands hoarsely, "What did you say?"
The intimacy of the touch loosens Dakin's throat. He has never intended to let Irwin know about this fantasy of his, so at odds with the persona he cultivates assiduously, but now it has happened and he might as well make the best of what he can no longer deny.
"Sir," he whispers once more, and Irwin shudders, his eyes squeezed shut for an instant. "Please, sir, I want you to tell me if I'm any good."
Dakin isn't certain how he expects Irwin to react to this request, but he does actually want to know. Except for a single incident back at university, Irwin is the only man he's had sex with, and while he is quite confident of his skill with women – more than one told him that he was the best she'd ever had, he remembers complacently – he is not sure that those abilities translate well to men.
If anything he rather expects Irwin to blush and stammer. Certainly Irwin's eyes widen, but to Dakin's surprise the words roll off Irwin's tongue in filthy waves, how deliciously tight Dakin is, how responsive, how gloriously debauched he looks as Irwin fucks him, how well he sucks cock, how Irwin wishes he had the stamina to violate Dakin six ways from Sunday every night. All the while he is talking Irwin is gripping Dakin's prick, pumping him with maddening slowness, keeping him from coming until Irwin has said all that he means to say.
At last the torrent of words ceases, and Dakin begs, "Sir, please make me come."
"Make yourself." Irwin's face is flushed. "Did you never do that, thinking of me? I thought of you, sometimes."
The pure idea of Irwin wanking over him is enough to make Dakin groan, knocking Irwin's hand aside in his haste to tug roughly at his cock. It's less than a minute before he comes in a sticky arc onto his belly as Irwin watches.
"Full marks, Mr. Dakin," Irwin says, a tiny grin tugging at his lips.
Dakin flushes, pleased and embarrassed and suddenly ridiculously glad that he said "sir."