Work Text:
The second TK walks through the door, Carlos is on him, one hand on his ass, the other hastily undoing the buttons on his shirt. Rough kisses are pressed to his throat and collarbone as Carlos drags him into the kitchen
"That a-" he cuts himself off, gasping and scrambling at Carlos' hair. "That your gun, or are you-" he moans, loud and unabashed, as Carlos spins him around and shoves him face first into the wall, "-just happy to see me?"
Carlos grabs him by the arm, twisting it behind him and rolling his hips into TK's ass. "What if I told you it was both?"
TK melts at that, whining helplessly against the wall. "Oh god, god, please -"
"You like that, don't you? Thought me having a gun was so hot, hm?" Carlos brushes feather-light kisses the nape of his neck, far too delicate to match anything he's saying.
"You have no idea how badly I wanted to get on my knees," he says, trying to push himself back against Carlos, "and make you fuck my face in front of everyone." If it hadn't been their first real date, he would have, he thinks. Maybe the next time they go out, he’ll drag Carlos to some dark corner of some dirty bar and blow him under the table.
Carlos muffles a tiny, lovely noise into the back of TK's neck. “Maybe I’ll be nice enough to let you kneel for me. What do you think? Wanna choke on it?”
The second TK moans out the most desperate, pathetic plea Carlos has ever heard, his free hand tangles in TK's hair and shoves him to the ground. He stays stock still for a moment, cheek pressed to the floorboards. One heavy boot drops against his lower back as Carlos leans down to remove his shoes and pants, tossing everything aside without a care in the world. For another moment, he lays there, naked and stunned, until Carlos shoves a foot under him from behind, pressing his boot up against his crotch. TK scrambles to his knees and turns around, hands clutching desperately at Carlos’ leg, humping down desperately on the boot.
With his gun belt still buckled, cuffs and holster hanging just at eye level, Carlos unzips his fly and shoves his boxer-clad dick into TK’s face. But TK’s distracted- instead of getting his mouth on Carlos’ cock, he focuses his attention next to it. For a moment, Carlos doesn’t understand what he’s doing. Then, a light, solid pressure pushes against his hip, and he tugs on TK’s hair lightly, barely moving him, to get a glimpse of what’s going on.
TK licks over the black leather of his gun holster like its Carlos’ dick, leaving shiny trails of spit all over the well-polished surface. Carlos feels his stomach tighten at the sight, and he lifts his foot up, steel toe pressing roughly against TK’s balls. A rough, choked groan slips past TK’s lips into the holster, and Carlos grins.
He knows TK likes it rough- always ready to shove Carlos against a wall, or egging Carlos into bending him over any available surface. Taunting Carlos into choking him, or being too impatient to even let Carlos try to undress himself before ripping the buttons off of his shirts. But this is… New, to say the least. As eager as TK always is to be pinned down and fucked into incoherence at any opportunity, Carlos never expected this- that TK would ever sit there, licking and sucking on his holster like it was his job, utterly debasing himself before Carlos, breath hitching at every little press of smooth leather against his dick.
As beautiful as the image before him is, Carlos’ dick isn’t getting less hard from TK giving his gun a blowjob. With one hand still in his hair, Carlos pulls his cock out of his boxers and nudges it against TK’s cheek. He pauses mid-lick as his eyes flick to it, pink tongue pressed against the now slick leather. His mouth waters as he glances between Carlos’ gun and his dick. Carlos eventually makes the decision for him; with a sharp yank at his head, he drags him away from the holster and pushes his dick against TK’s soft, slightly parted, lips. TK glances up at him as he leans in and kisses the tip with frustrating softness. His hips twitch as he tightens his grip on TK’s hair, shoving the head of his dick past his lips.
TK smirks around Carlos and sucks lightly for a moment. Then, he brushes the barest hint of teeth against the underside of his cock, and Carlos sucks in a breath. There’s barely any pressure, no risk of TK actually biting him, not really, but the tease is there all the same.
“Oh, so we’re playing like that?” Carlos asks, giving TK a chance to take it back, to put his teeth away. But he doesn’t- of course he doesn’t. He simply raises an eyebrow, daring Carlos. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “Okay,” he says, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”
One moment, TK is kneeling on the floor, with Carlos’ dick resting in his mouth. The next, Carlos is pushing him away and zipping his pants back up. Then he’s being dragged again, turned away from Carlos, and, with a light press of a rubber sole against his back, forced onto his chest with his ass in the air. Warm hands grab his wrists and press them into Carlos’ cold handcuffs behind his back, and Carlos sits down on the sofa. The top of his boot rubs none too gently against TK again, toe pressed to the head of his cock, laces rough against his balls. He whines and jerks slightly away from the sensation, but Carlos just shoves it into him even harder.
“Fuck,” TK gasps, trying to squeeze his thighs together against Carlos’ boot.
Carlos stops for a moment and eases the pressure on TK’s dick, worry creasing his brow. “You okay?”
“Yes, yes, just-“ he makes a small, broken noise, somewhat similar to a squeaky dog toy. “I’m fine, keep going.”
With a nod, Carlos jumps right back in, boot still sandwiched between TK’s legs. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to get off on my boot. And you’re going to be grateful for it.” TK huffs, and he moves his foot, dragging the rough laces against his sensitive balls. “Or, you don’t have to get off at all, and I can tie you up and use your mouth.” He thinks for a moment, then continues. “Or I can fuck your mouth with something else, maybe? You loved kissing my holster, didn’t you? You wanna suck off my gun, babe?”
TK does want to. He wants Carlos to fuck him, his face, his ass, anything, with his gun, and need churns in his stomach. But he knows Carlos won’t, however much he begs and pleads and debases himself for it. He cares too much to put TK at risk. And TK knows how dangerous it would be, he really, truly does. But knowing does nothing to quell the excitement the threat draws from him.
He gently grinds down on the boot beneath him, and from behind him, he hears Carlos’ breath hitch. The next roll of his hips is harder, the rough-textured boot laces making the delicate skin of his balls burn. It pulls a whimper from him, nearly stopping him from continuing.
But after a still, quiet moment, Carlos speaks again. “TK, baby, move.” The ‘ or else ’ goes unsaid, but he hears it nonetheless. And still, he doesn’t budge.
The or else comes as a full-force smack against his ass, burning hot and sharp. Tears prick at TK’s eyes, and Carlos slaps him again when he doesn’t move. It hurts worse, the second time, and he can’t stop the tears that slip down his cheeks. He grinds down again, wincing at the abrasiveness against his sensitive skin, ass still stinging from Carlos’ hand. His wrists hurt from the cuffs and his cheekbone feels rubbed raw from the living room rug, and his whole body feels like it’s becoming a frayed nerve.
Another harsh strike makes him sob and hump at Carlos’ boot. He’s not sure he’s ever been as turned on as he is now. The ache throughout his body feels awful and excellent, going straight to his dick. He wants it all to stop, and he never wants Carlos to let him go. He wants to scream and plead for something, but he barely remembers how to speak, let alone figure out what to beg for.
Carlos spanks him several more times- TK loses count by the fifth- and by the time he stops, TK’s ass is tender and red, a bruise just waiting to appear. He vaguely hears Carlos whispering to himself, or to TK, but he can only make out the occasional swear, or his own name. A cold, slick finger brushes against his asshole, making him jerk down and away, harder against Carlos’ shoe. He wails as Carlos pushes his finger inside of him, the only painless pleasure he’s gotten yet today. It’s just the one- Carlos doesn’t make any move to add a finger, or at least fuck him with the finger inside of him. Then it crooks slightly, dragging almost gently inside of him, and TK’s thighs tighten around the boot, and he comes, painful and perfect and ripped so carefully out of him, all over Carlos’ shoe.
For another few moments, Carlos keeps his finger inside, soft and sweet, and turning rapidly to painfully overstimulating. In a way too cruel to be anything but intentional, Carlos’ finger brushes against TK’s prostate, and he can’t help but try to escape it, forcing his overstimulated, rubbed-raw dick down once more.
After letting TK squirm for another long minute, Carlos grabs the handcuffs and yanks TK upright, then spins him to face Carlos. For just a moment, he allows himself to look TK over, to admire the tears staining his cheeks, and the red indents from the floor mark his face. Then, he crosses the boot that isn’t covered in TK’s come behind his back, and pushes him down again, nose nearly pressed into his boot. “Lick it clean,” he orders as TK looks up at him. His hand trails to his belt, grazing over the gun. “You liked using your tongue on the holster, and that was already clean. So clean up your fucking mess . ”
For a moment, TK keeps staring up at him, humiliation twisting in his gut- it’s one thing to lick Carlos’ gun holster, or even to hump his boot. But it’s another thing entirely to lick his own semen off of his boot- he wore those to work, ran through dirty alleys and roads in them. As well-maintained as they were, as much as Carlos buffed and polished and fussed over them, they’re still, frankly, disgusting- is he really considering licking his own come off of his sort-of boyfriend’s work boots ?
The boot nudges at his lips, and TK slowly puts his head back down. At first, just one short, hesitant lick, then another, barely lapping up any of the come coating Carlos’ boot. Then he glances back up, and sees Carlos staring down at him in false disinterest, thumb rubbing the little bit of glossy metal that remains exposed in the holster. A groan escapes him, and his tongue darts out again, licking a long stripe clean. Carlos’s eyes bore into him, hand pressing against the bulge in his pants.
“Good boy,” Carlos praises. His voice is rough, but he still manages to feign boredom, even as he palms himself. TK whines
The bitterness of the leather polish, dirt, and semen makes TK want to gag. It’s possibly one of the worst things he’s tasted, and his tongue nearly aches from the repetitive motion. But Carlos staring down at him, Carlos demanding this of him, keeps his tongue on the stiff leather, as bad as it tastes.
He licks the last bit of come off of the boot and, before he can even pull his tongue back into his mouth, Carlos pulls him to sit up as best he can. A thumb jams between his teeth, prying it further open so Carlos can see his tongue.
“That’s-“ Carlos starts. He doesn’t finish his thought, instead dragging TK up onto the sofa between his legs and kissing him, hard. He pushes his dick up against TK as he licks the taste of TK’s come from his mouth.
The kiss ends disappointingly soon, Carlos’ revulsion for the bitterness he had licked from Carlos’ boot painted clear on his grimace. Once again, he’s shoved down, face level with Carlos’ clothed dick. The fly is hastily undone, boxers pushed down to pull his dick out.
“ Behave, ” Carlos growls, tangling his hand back into TK’s hair and shaking him. “No teeth, this time.”
TK tries to nod against Carlos’ hand, but barely manages even a tiny movement. Carlos feeds his cock into TK’s mouth, none too gently, and yanks his hair again to force himself down TK’s throat.
This time, TK keeps his teeth covered. However wonderfully demeaning it felt to have Carlos make him hump his shoe like a goddamn dog, his poor dick and ass were too sore to even consider acting up again. So he lets Carlos’ dick slide to the back of his throat, holding as still as he can even when it makes him gag.
Carlos pulls TK’s head back, letting his dick slip until just the tip remains between his lips, and thrusts back in without even giving him a chance to gasp for air. He chokes, and Carlos stays there for a long minute, waiting until tears start gathering in the corners of TK’s eyes, then pulls out again, letting TK take a deep breath, and starts fucking his face in earnest.
TK’s soft cries every time his cock leaves his throat, the tear tracks coating his cheeks, and the tight spasms of his throat only egg Carlos on harder and harder. Carlos’ hand that isn’t in his hair has remained at his waist, still stroking the leather holster. TK whines again, but is quickly cut off by Carlos shoving his dick into the back of his throat and coming. He’s pinned there for what feels like hours, lungs screaming to be let up. But he doesn’t resist, even as he sobs and gags- he just sits there, listening to the mumbled, meaningless words that Carlos manages.
Carlos lets go of his hair, letting him lean back and gasp for air, finally. They’re both wrecked and out of breath. Saliva coats TK’s chin, tears- both dry and fresh- are streaked across his cheeks, and his entire body is shiny with sweat. Carlos isn’t too much better off. His uniform is absolutely soaked through, and a small wet patch darkens the front of Carlos’ boxers and pants- either precum, TK’s drool, or both.
“Carlos?” TK half-whispers, voice fucked ragged and hoarse.
Carlos opens one eye. “Hm?”
TK doesn’t have to say another word before Carlos is bolting up, fishing out the key to the handcuffs from his pants and removing them from TK’s wrists. He’s pulled onto the sofa beside Carlos, and his wrists are massaged with a tenderness that contrasts starkly to his earlier treatment.
“Are… You okay?” Carlos asks, big, soft eyes gazing into his own.
TK nods and lets his head fall to Carlos’ shoulder. His throat hurts. His head hurts from crying and choking. His ass hurts, and his dick, and his balls, and his knees. All he wants is to take a nap, and a bath, and to stay snuggled up to Carlos for as long as he’ll let him. But mostly, he just wants to brush his teeth and rinse his mouth. His tongue feels like sandpaper, and Carlos’ come did nothing to wash out the bitterness from his boot.
His words fail him, and he only manages to spit out a bit of gibberish; “Bathroom? Wanna… Toothbrush.”
Carlos stands up anyways and quickly removes his utility belt, before half carrying him to the bathroom and seating him on the edge of the tub. He grabs a new toothbrush from beneath the sink, puts a dollop of toothpaste on it, and hands it to TK. He has to hold back tears at that, and instead focuses on scrubbing the foul leather from his tongue. Carlos turns the faucet behind him on, warm but not anywhere near hot, and kisses his forehead.
“That was really, really, good, babe,” he tells Carlos once his mouth is adequately clean. “Just- fuck, how are you so hot? Why’s your uniform so hot?”
Carlos’ face goes pink as he places TK’s toothbrush on the side of the sink and eases him into the tub. “ You’re hot.” Then, he takes a breath. “Honestly, I was worried that I was going way overboard.”
“Oh, you definitely were.” Carlos’ face falls, and he scrambles to continue. “But, God , in a good way. Swear you can read my mind in bed, sometimes.”
“One, we weren’t in bed,” Carlos snarks, earning a splash of water to the face. “ Two, you said you thought the gun was hot. I don’t need to have Paul’s perception superpowers to guess what you’re into.”
“ Wow, so I’m predictable, huh?” Carlos nods. “Predict this, then,” TK says, then grabs Carlos’ shoulders and drags him into the tub.
He sputters for a second as TK laughs at him. “You think you’re so funny.” Carlos hastily unbuttons and shucks off his uniform top, then starts trying to pull off his soaked pants. “I’ll show you funny.”
As soon as his pants are off, he lunges at TK, hands worming under his arms and tickling. TK screeches at an octave that should be impossible for a grown man, and splashes water in Carlos’ face.
“You are-“ he gasps between giggles, “- so on.”