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Buck doesn't hate his boyfriend's dog.
Buck doesn't hate his boyfriend's dog.
It's just...
Well.
When Buck and Tommy finally got their heads out of their asses and decided to give a relationship a second, more careful try, they'd been apart just over a year. They both knew going in that things would be different; people change, after all.
Buck just hadn't been expecting Tommy's change to be five pounds of toy poodle called Princess.
The way Tommy tells it, Princess hitched a ride in the helicopter by refusing to leave her flatlining owner after a pretty horrific pileup, then attached herself to Tommy's side and wouldn't leave. The way literally everyone else at Harbour tells it, Tommy was immediately smitten and wouldn't allow her to be more than a foot away from him at any given moment, even before they knew her owner wasn't going to make it.
Either way, Buck knows two things to be true. One, that Princess is now his boyfriend's pride and joy.
And two, that she's doing everything she can to kill their sex life.
"Evan- oh, oh god-"
Tommy's fingers grip like vices into Buck's shoulders. Buck's own fingers glide smoothly in and out of Tommy's hole, faintly squelching with lube. Buck is careful to avoid directly hitting Tommy's prostate — he loves how desperate it makes him, how Tommy starts tipping his hips in an attempt to redirect him.
"You ready, baby?" Buck asks. He spreads his fingers on the stroke out, admiring how they pull Tommy's rim open. Tommy gasps loudly and arches his back, nodding, clenching hard.
"Yeah, yeah, please."
"Okay." Buck kisses Tommy's knee. He pulls his fingers out of Tommy's body with a vulgar wet sound. He fumbles with the lube before squeezing out enough, hissing in a breath at the chill against his throbbing dick. He lines himself up and-
There's the most pitiful whine he's heard in his life at the bedroom door.
Buck tries to pretend he didn't hear it. He drags his cockhead over Tommy's hole, watches how it winks and clenches when he moves away.
Another whine from the door — louder, this time.
"Did you hear that?"
"Hear what, baby?" He takes Tommy's — now flagging — erection in hand, giving it a few tight, slick pumps.
Yet another whine, somehow even more pathetic than before.
"Wait-" Tommy says. Buck stops what he's doing. "Wait, she sounds like there's something wrong."
Buck presses his face into Tommy's neck and exerts all of his self-control by stopping himself from doing something embarrassing, like throwing a tantrum. Somewhere else in the house, there's a crash, followed by a yelp.
"Shit, I have to check on her," Tommy says. He rubs Buck's back once, then pats it and gets up, throwing on boxers and sweats on his way to the bedroom door.
Buck faceplants into Tommy's pillow.
The thing is, Buck is halfway convinced this dog is the reincarnation of Machiavelli himself.
Because, see, she started off small — squirming between them when they made out on Tommy's couch, barking to go outside when Tommy had Buck's cock down his throat, scratching on the other side of the door when they were in the garage 'practicing Muay Thai'. But she escalated. Suddenly, every time Buck wanted to climb into Tommy's lap, Princess was already there. Anytime they started getting handsy in the kitchen, she was winding around their feet, barking. Hell, they couldn't even cuddle on the couch anymore without her doing her best to separate them.
It's gotten to the point where Buck finds himself now almost two full weeks since he last got to share an orgasm with his boyfriend, and he's starting to go a little nutty. Pardoning the pun.
So, yeah, Buck has a copy of The Prince sitting on his nightstand. He picked up The Art Of War, too, just to be safe. Know thine enemy and all.
Sun Tzu probably wasn't talking about a dog. But then again, Sun Tzu never met Princess.
"Fuck, Tommy, Tommy-"
Tommy sucks at Buck's rim, making Buck moan and writhe, face-down against the bed. His hands shift their grip on Buck's ass and hold him down at the same time as they hold him open. Buck tries to arch his back but he's held fast. He claws his hands into the sheets and whines.
Tommy chuckles behind him. "Needy thing," he says, his voice rumbling from the base of Buck's spine and shivering up it. Tommy licks wetly across Buck's hole, pulls him open wide, and spits.
"Oh god," Buck whines. Tommy licks into him slow and teasing, starting from the light tap of his tongue to Buck's rim and working it inside him so gradually it feels like hours until he's fucking it in and out of him in a hot, slick slide. Buck is beyond words — the noises that erupt from him do so freely, without his input, gut-punched groans and needy whines and wanton moans.
There's a scratch at the door.
Buck nearly shouts when Tommy curls two fingers inside him, alongside his tongue. Tommy doesn't waste time; he finds Buck's prostate with unerring precision and rubs tight circles into it as he continues working his tongue in and out and in and out. Buck's arousal rolls deep in his gut, a slow-building heat he can't help but try and try and try to chase-
There's more scratching. A despondent whine.
Tommy pauses.
"No, no no no Tommy god please, please don't stop-" Buck begs, babbling, tears burning at his eyes. He flings an arm behind himself and grabs what handful of Tommy's hair he can reach. "Please, please, need it, need it so bad-"
"Hey, hey, shh," Tommy says. He pulls his fingers out and Buck almost sobs at the loss.
Buck turns onto his back on shaky arms and pulls Tommy on top of himself. "I know you love your dog, Tommy, but I swear to god if you don't give me a prostate orgasm right now I- I-" Buck swallows. "I don't actually know what I'll do but please, ignore your dog just this once."
Tommy's expression takes a journey — baffled surprise, furrowed confusion, indignant disbelief. He lands, finally, on wry amusement.
"Right now, huh?" he asks. Inexplicably, Buck feels closer to tears.
"Tommy," he whines. "Don't make fun of me, she keeps interrupting us and I can't take it anymore!"
As if to make his point for him, there's yet more scratching and whining.
Tommy looks suspiciously like he's trying to hold back laughter. Buck tightens his arms around Tommy's neck and his legs around his waist, hopefully limiting his ability to escape. Tommy clears his throat; it doesn't not sound like a concealed laugh.
"Okay," Tommy says. "I promise you'll come, I'll check on her, and we'll talk about this, in that order. Deal?"
"Deal," Buck says with a sniff.
Tommy grabs the lube and slicks up his fingers. He's got two buried inside Buck to the knuckle when the next whine comes from the door — I win, Buck thinks to himself more than a little vindictively as Tommy spreads his fingers wide and sucks a hickey low on his neck.
Buck comes hard when he does, shooting up to his chin with Tommy's thick cock buried deep inside him.
Buck drifts in the sated afterglow when Tommy opens the bedroom door, cooing at the dog like she's a baby.
And the next morning, Buck explains his frustration while Tommy nods along understandingly. It feels good to get it off his chest for all of five seconds until Tommy, expression intently neutral, says,
"You know, we could just spend more time at yours."