This is going to be a complete no shame side blog, definitely NSFW with no language filtering or word mincing. We are very kink-positive here!! Pro ship and pro kink
Aka, 18+ and full of thirsting. I'll drop by sporadically with headcanons or lil scenarios and maybe even an actual fic one day.
I'm a multishipper and Buck is my fav so expect any ships with him honestly. Bucktommy/kinkley/tevan + buddie are the mains tho!
Feel free to dump anything in my asks, no kink shaming here, and let's just have fun with the ships we like, yeah?
ough if i may....bucktommy WS...Buck getting fucked so hard that he pisses himself. Feeling extremely embarrassed and wanting to cry, but Tommy praises him and just fucks him through it...
perfecto. he’s on his hands and knees and doesn’t see it coming until suddenly it’s happening, and the thing is tommy’s hugging him from above, holding buck around the waist, his palms pressed low on buck’s stomach as he drives into him, and the pressure of his hands is too much, and it’s happening before he knows it. he’s so ashamed, this has never happened before, and he whimpers and apologizes but tommy just adds more pressure and kisses buck’s ear and ghhhhhh
tags: explicit sexual content, emotional vulnerability, praise kink, first-time bottoming, possessive!buck, buck is called firehose for a reason, hyperspermia, laughter during sex
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Tommy’s always been the one to take the lead.
It’s what people expect of him. Abby. Past hookups. Anyone who looked at him carried assumptions— tall, solid, broad-shouldered. Confident. Collected. Calm. He fit a type, and he played the part well enough.
He didn’t hate it. Sometimes he even liked it.
Until Evan.
Evan sees through it like glass.
He never pushes, never pries, but he doesn’t let Tommy hide either. He doesn’t accept the practiced kisses, the half-hearted flirts, the muscle-memory ways Tommy learned to please. He doesn’t want the mask— he wants him . Flips him onto his back with steady hands and hungry eyes, and every single time, Tommy comes apart a little more under him.
And he loves it. God, he loves it.
So when they finally get a weekend off together, three whole days alone in a cabin tucked deep into the trees, Tommy knows exactly what he wants.
He just has to say it.
They’re curled together on the couch, fire crackling, wine half-gone. Buck is warm beside him, long legs tangled with his, mouth stained dark from the red. Tommy licks at it— he sucks, kisses, nips at Buck’s lips, drinking in every soft sound he can pull from him.
Under his hands, Buck arches, groans low, and Tommy shifts to straddle his lap.
Tommy can feel anticipation humming under his skin.
He’s been thinking about it for ages, but there was never a chance— or maybe he never let himself have one, too focused on making the other feel good the only way he knows how, so he pulls back from Buck’s lips with a mournful groan, takes a slow, deep sip of wine, and then sets his glass down before he chickens out. “If I asked you to take me apart tonight,” he drawls, careful not to look at Buck directly as he lets himself settle more firmly on the other’s lap, toying with one of the few buttons on the other’s henley. “Would you?”
Buck stills beneath him.
Tommy can practically hear the gears turning, before, “ Wait , hold on. Are you asking me that because you think I want to do it?” Buck’s voice goes a little high, a little fast, like it normally does when he gets nervous. “Because I swear I didn’t mean to push for anything— like, if I’ve been giving off a vibe or something, I didn’t mean to. It’s just, I dunno, muscle memory, I guess? I get handsy when I’m into someone, and you’re— god , you’re just—”
He sets his empty glass aside so he can uselessly flap his hands in Tommy’s general direction, like he can’t quite believe the man on his lap.
Tommy lets his head drop forward with a startled, pleased laugh. “Evan—”
“—really, really oh my god, fucking hot, and I like touching you, and yeah, maybe sometimes I get a little grabby, but not because I’m trying to hint at something. I just— you know me. I get excited. And you’ve been so good to me, and I swear I wasn’t trying to flip the dynamic on you or pressure you or anything like that—”
“ Evan .”
Buck shuts up, wide-eyed.
“I didn’t ask because I thought you wanted it,” Tommy explains, feeling brave in the face of the other’s anxiety. “I asked because I do.” There’s a pause, and Buck goes still beneath him, searching his face, and Tommy makes himself hold the scrutinizing look, lets Evan see he means it. Slowly, Buck’s shoulders loosen, his hands settling instinctively at Tommy’s hips. “I’ve been thinking about it,” Tommy continues, quieter now. “You’d never been with a man before, and you just… trusted yourself. Trusted me, so easily.” He huffs a disbelieving laugh. “And I look at you and think— if you can open yourself up like that, maybe I can too.” His voice catches a little. “You make it feel safe to want.”
Buck's body softens under Tommy’s as the remaining tension flees him, eyes softening as he reaches up, cupping Tommy’s cheek. His thumb brushes across Tommy’s bottom lip, and he kisses it without thinking. “If that’s how you feel,” Buck murmurs, “then I’d be honored to give it to you.” Then, his voice dips, growing a little teasing. “You did so well with me. I’d love to return the favor." He waggles his eyebrows. "Open up your horizons.”
Tommy groans out a laugh. “Was that a pun?”
“Absolutely.” Buck grins, hands flexing at Tommy’s hips. He licks his lips, eyes darkening. “So tell me… what exactly has been catching your interest?”
Tommy leans in again, brushing his nose along Buck’s ear, voice soft and conspiratorial. Two can play that game. “I think about what it feels like. About how you enjoy it so much, and if I could, too.” He murmurs, shifting and feeling Buck twitching beneath him. “How would it feel being opened up by your thick fingers. About you and your cock, pushing in, fucking me deep, filling me up so good I can’t even breathe, and baby— you already feel so good in my mouth, fucking my throat. I can only imagine how you’ll feel in me.” Buck exhales like he’s been hit, fingers tightening their hold on Tommy’s hips as he listens, completely enraptured. “I think about your cum,” Tommy groans, the images vivid in his mind. “Hot and wet inside me. Staying there. Keeping it there. It's always so much.” Buck makes a wounded noise, like he’s suffering, and Tommy grins faintly, smug and already half-gone with want. “So, yeah,” he ends casually, kissing Buck’s flushed cheek innocently. “That's why, but uh. I need to warn you. I’m a little nervous cos I’ve never wanted something like this before and… I just haven’t. Done it, I mean.”
That last part slices through the haze in Buck’s brain like a needle scratching across vinyl, so he pulls back just enough to see Tommy’s face. “You haven’t?” Buck echoes. “What, bottoming? Like— at all?”
Tommy shakes his head. His voice is still low, still calm, but there’s an edge to it now, something fragile and guarded beneath the casual tone. “Not with anyone,” he admits, like it's not a big deal. “I came out late. Most guys I’ve been with assumed I’d top, and I never really… I don’t know. I didn’t think I was missing anything.” He huffs a quiet laugh. “But then you came along and— well. I got curious. Started wondering if I was missing out too.” Buck’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t interrupt. Tommy presses on, his hand fidgeting against Buck’s chest. “And maybe it’s stupid, but a part of me is scared I won’t be good at it? That I won’t be able to take you, or that I won’t like it, or worse, you won’t like it. That you’ll look at me differently after.”
There’s a beat, and then Buck cups Tommy's face between his hands, thumbs brushing the high sweep of his cheekbones. “Tommy,” he murmurs, achingly gentle. “Look at me.” He does, and Buck smiles. “There’s nothing you could do that would make me look at you differently. Nothing. I already think the world of you. You know that, right?”
Tommy nods, throat a little tight under the scrutiny.
“If this is what you want,” Buck continues, voice low as his eyes drop to the curve of Tommy’s mouth, “then I want to give it to you. Not just because I think you’ll be good at it— and you will be, you overachieving show-off,” he grins softly, making Tommy smile, “but because you want it.” He leans in, brushing his nose along Tommy’s cheek and pulling him closer. “And because I get to be the one who shows you how good it can feel. The one who gets to make you fall apart. Just like you did to me, baby.”
Tommy swallows hard. “I want it.”
"Then you'll have it," Buck exhales, shaky and hungry. There's a pause in each during which they look at each other, at an impasse, before Buck flaps a hand between them. “Now or—" Tommy nods instantly, eyes dark and lips parted, and Buck groans. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” He barely manages to say before he grips Tommy’s face and kisses him.
Tommy groans at the scrape of Buck’s nose against his cheekbone, at the hot press of his tongue. He gives as good as he gets, rolling his hips, fingers tangling in Buck’s curls, both of them gasping into the kiss. They fumble, frantic, neither willing to stop kissing, both desperate to touch, to feel, to have— until Tommy, impatient, shoves at Buck’s chest, wanting to pull at his shirt.
They collapse on the rug in a heap, a tangle of limbs and yelps and increasingly undone clothing.
Buck lands with a thud. “Jesus,” he pants, laughing. “So much for slow and romantic.”
Tommy grins down at him, pupils blown. “You wanna complain, or do you wanna come?”
Buck raises his hands in surrender before he rests them behind his head, biceps flexing and a smug little grin. “I’m shutting up.” And then he winks. “For now.”
There’s lube in Buck’s backpack— of course there is, the menace, as if they would be going at it in the bushes in the middle of nowhere while on a hike, along with condoms and a brand-new bottle of ibuprofen that makes Tommy snort. “You came prepared.” He playfully accuses while tossing the pills back into the bag.
He deliberates for a second before tossing the condoms in, too.
“Not for this,”
Buck says honestly, watching Tommy walk back across the room barefoot, shirtless. “But I’ll take it.” And then far too soon, Tommy’s on his back in front of the fireplace, pants shucked off, thighs spread wide and knees drawn up. It's a position, and his brain kind of short-circuits trying to process that it’s his body laid out like this, exposed to cool air and the sudden heat of Buck’s breath ghosting down the inside of his thigh. “You okay?” Buck checks in, thumb stroking slow circles on his knee.
Tommy nods. “Yeah.”
Buck keeps looking at him, blinking expectantly.
A sigh. “Yes, Evan.”
That earns him a sunny smile and the soft press of lips to his thigh, reassuring, before a slick finger, warm and clumsy, presses between his cheeks, parting him.
The lube is lukewarm from when Buck had enthusiastically rubbed the tube between his palms, now dribbling down Tommy’s crack in slow, teasing trails that make him squirm. He still shivers at the wet and slick feeling in places he’s never really let anyone touch before. Buck’s fingers are thick, calloused, and Tommy’s breath catches when the first one presses gently against his rim. It’s new; different from the few times he had tried to finger himself in the shower, but gave up, not finding the right angle. The rough texture, the pressure, the slow stretch of his body yielding as the digit breaches past his defences— it sends a ripple of tension up his spine.
Buck pauses instantly at the clench. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Foreign, not bad.”
“Tell me if anything hurts.” Buck insists, pressing a lingering kiss to his knee. Tommy sighs, relaxing, and focuses on the movement of the other's finger, and while the stretch is unfamiliar at first, it eventually dulls into an easy, smooth slide that he begins to enjoy as Buck’s finger moves deliberately in him, curling slightly, pressing deeper before sliding back, while his other hand strokes soothing patterns into Tommy’s thigh, distracting him.
Then comes the second finger.
Tommy tenses again, resting his forearm over his eyes and letting out a sigh. "Oh, okay. That’s—different.”
“Good kind of different?”
“I don’t know yet,” Tommy admits with a snort, still straining to adjust. He’s trying not to clench, but, “Your fingers feel like fucking tree branches, Evan.”
“Hey, you like these fingers just fine. Don’t act brand new.”
“Yeah, well. It’s different when they’re in me, not just wrapped around my dick.”
“Mm.” Buck licks his lips, eyes flicking from Tommy’s flushed face to where his fingers are slowly thrusting into him. He carefully catalogues every breath, every flinch, the ripple of muscle around his knuckles. He doesn’t rush, either— they have time, nowhere to be, so he just feels and lets Tommy’s body tell him what it needs. One slow press, one gentle twist, one pause when Tommy bites down on a gasp and shudders. Buck smooths a hand over Tommy’s thigh, thumb stroking idle circles dangerously close to where the other is half hard. “You’re doing so good,” he murmurs and sees the way Tommy’s chest rises at the praise, feels the way his thighs squeeze around his hips. And then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, Tommy’s body starts to give. The resistance softens, pressure melting into something warmer, deeper, better.
Tommy lets out a breath that slides into a moan, arm slipping off his face as he tries and rolls his hips. “That's nice,” he hisses, peering down with interest. He can't see much, just his spread legs and the flex of the other's muscles as he works him; still, it causes him to flush a little further as he realizes he really, really would like to be able to watch.
Buck grins loopily, withdrawing his fingers only to add more lube. Then he presses back in, slower this time, and nudges in a third finger with exquisite care. As he does, he leans in to kiss the underside of Tommy’s knee, then his belly, then the crease of his groin, teasing and distracting as his fingers keep moving— slow, then faster, curling just right, making Tommy's hips jolt and his dick bump against his chin.
Oh. That feels… insanely good, Tommy thinks, staring blearily at the wooden ceiling as Buck fucks him open with his fingers.
And when Buck crooks his fingers just so, Tommy moans, thighs trembling. “Oh,” He breathes as pleasure curls up his spine. “Fuck, okay, now I get it.”
“Not yet, no. Still only fingers, gotta make sure...” And Buck scissors his fingers, humming as Tommy’s body takes it so well after so much resistance. “You’re nice and stretched for it, first.”
“You’re such a dick,” Tommy sighs, wrecked and delighted all at once as he shifts his hips, experimenting with grinding back. He shivers as the tips of Buck’s fat fingers press to his prostate again.
“I'm just getting started,” Buck wisecracks again, avoiding Tommy’s playful smack to his head before he pulls his fingers out without warning.
And if being filled is an experience, suddenly being empty is jarring. Tommy barely has time to breathe, body clenching around air, before Buck is on his feet, pushing down his sweats and underwear in one go, dick bouncing free. Tommy groans at the sight of it, red and swollen and already dripping.
He wants it so deep in him that he tastes it.
Buck looks from side to side, lube in hand. “Where did you put the condoms?”
“Didn’t,” Tommy throws a set of finger guns at the other. He probably looks ridiculous, naked and flushed, on a rug. “I want the full experience.”
“The full experience?” Buck snorts but doesn’t argue, squeezing a glob of lube onto his hand and slicking himself up quickly.
And Tommy just hums, watching through half lidded eyes as the fat head of Buck’s cock moves within his fist. “So, so full.”
Buck chortles again, dropping to his knees between Tommy’s legs. He reaches out, throws them over his arms and pulls, slotting Tommy’s ass to his hips.
Well, Tommy thinks, ignoring the burn of the rug on his cheeks to focus on the sweet drag of the other’s dick against his crack, there’s another kink uncovered.
“Still want to try?” Buck checks in again as he lines up with Tommy’s hole. While there’s still heat in it, his voice is gentle, careful. “We don’t need to go all the way on the first try, you know?” He shifts, dragging his length against the other's. “We can just stay like this.”
But Tommy just reaches for him, hooking an ankle around his waist to keep Buck from moving away. “Nope,” He winks. “Wreck me.”
And Buck does.
The first push is slow, cautious.
He pushes in just a little bit, inch by inch, before pulling back, adding more lube before moving in again.
Still, Tommy’s breath catches. It’s a stretch, a pressure, a sense of being intruded upon in the most primal, intimate way. His body resists at first, but Buck talks him through it, giving him quiet praise and kisses and fingers rubbing over his thigh and hip and chest, soothing and relaxing him. “Almost there,” Buck whispers, forehead pressed to Tommy’s as he slowly rocks his hips. He’s flushed, and Tommy would be impressed by his restraint if he weren’t trying to fight his body’s need to clench. “You’re doing so good for me.” He croons, “Let me in, baby.”
And Tommy does— lets go of the last bit of tension, and Buck slides the rest of the way in, one slow, last push.
Tommy groans and feels, fluttering his eyes shut. Buck is everywhere. The press of his hips fits snug against Tommy’s ass, heat radiating off him. Tommy can feel the scratch of pubic hair brushing the tender skin behind his balls, can feel the thick ridge of Buck’s cock stretching him open, docking him in place. It’s like being branded from the inside— one hot, wet line of pressure seated so deep that Tommy swears it scorches straight through to his spine.
He shifts and twitches around it, breath catching.
Fuck.
The girth alone is mind-melting, and the way Buck fills him so completely— they haven't even started the main event yet, and Tommy’s already gone, five stars, will want again. He's feeling stupid and high on dick and groaning into Buck’s mouth every time he so much as thinks of clenching.
Buck doesn’t move at first. He only stays close, foreheads touching, one hand cradling Tommy’s jaw while the other traces idle circles on his hip. “You’re doing so well,” he praises. “You feel so fucking good, Tom.” Tommy tries to speak, but all he manages is a soft whimper. A fucking whimper. He tightens instinctively around Buck, and the sound the other makes in response, guttural, desperate, shoots straight to his dick. “Fuck,” Buck breathes. “That’s— quite the squeeze. Jesus. You okay? Hurts at all?”
“No,” Tommy shakes his head. “M’good. Just trying it out. Gimme a second. You’re. Wow. Big.” And Buck hums, winking, pleased as punch at the compliment. Tommy slaps his arm. “Don’t.”
Buck merely laughs, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to the other’s lips and then trailing down his jaw, sucking and nibbling. “Let me know when you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere.” His thumb brushes under Tommy’s ear, grounding him. “Just… breathe, baby. I got you.” He murmurs, catching Tommy’s lips again.
And he does. Tommy feels it in every touch, every inch of where they’re joined as they lazily kiss, wrapped around each other before the fire. Buck stays still within him the whole time, settled, wedged in deep, and Tommy tries to focus as their tongues lazily drag against each other’s, to catalog everything at once: the feeling of being filled, the steady exhale of breath against his cheek as the other breathes through his nose while they kiss. Buck’s cock is one hot, hard line of heat within him, and when Tommy rolls his hips, an unspoken go, the other starts to move— slow, gentle. Just a few shallow pulls, merely rocking together, inching back and sliding in again, deeper each time, dragging along nerves Tommy didn’t even know existed.
It’s torturous. It’s glorious.
And then Buck shifts just the tiniest bit and grinds, hips rolling, and it feels so good Tommy’s toes curl where they bracket Buck’s waist. “Fuck,” he chokes, breaking their kiss. “Oh fuck.”
Buck pulls back a little further, then slides in again slowly, watching Tommy intently for any sign of pain. There’s none— only the sweet, slide of cock deep within, reaching so far inside of him Tommy fears he’ll never be the same. He blinks up at the other, dazed. “You’re gonna ruin me.” He realizes. "Our sex life will never be the same, will it?"
Buck grins above him, eyes soft and wicked. “That’s what you asked for, wasn’t it?” They laugh between them, quiet, breathless, a little wild, but then Buck presses in harder, faster, and Tommy’s mouth drops open with a moan, fingers scrabbling at Buck’s back, needing something to hold onto. “Tell me how it feels,” Buck whispers, eyes locked on his. “Wanna know. Wanna hear it.”
Tommy groans, but obeys. “Like you’re everywhere,” he manages, flushing under the attention. “Like I can’t breathe. Like I’m not gonna be able to think for a week.”
Buck hums, pleased. “You’ll be lucky if you get to walk tomorrow.”
And god, Tommy hopes that’s true.
It’s so good. The rocking of their bodies, the catch of the swollen head on his rim, the obscene drag of cock against sensitive walls. Every sound Buck makes—hisses and groans and breathless praise—pulls him in tighter, needier. “Evan,” Tommy breathes, baring his throat and groaning as the other moves in, mouthing at the offered skin until he leaves a dark bruise blooming there. “Uh— faster. You can move faster.”
And Buck does, snapping his hips forward with renewed vigor. He moves with heavy, precise strokes, hips rolling in a rhythm so practiced, so devastating, Tommy’s eyes roll back in his head. “You feel so good,” Buck groans, lips brushing Tommy’s ear. “So tight. Warm,” He pants, almost incoherent. “Perfect.”
Tommy can only moan in reply, lips slack as he lays back, boneless, and chooses to just feel for a minute, to catalogue the press and pull of their bodies: the friction of his spine against the rug, the wet sound of Buck railing into him again and again, neverending, making his cock leak messily onto his stomach. His eyes flutter open, dazed. Evan is a vision— eyes shut, lips parted, arms bracketing Tommy’s head, his whole body working as he fucks him. Sweat curls his hair against his forehead, brow furrowed in concentration, and Tommy watches in awe as strong biceps flex, tattooed torso rippling with every motion. Buck drives into him, then draws back until only the swollen tip remains inside— slow, measured, all to coax more sound from Tommy’s open mouth. Sweat trickles down the bridge of his nose as he moves, catching the light as his chest heaves.
Tommy's so in love he's stupid, and, with a helpless moan, he decides he wants to stay here for the rest of his life, stuffed full and just a witness to the beauty that is Evan in the throes of pleasure— pleasure he’s taking from his body, that he’s providing him.
And Buck— he doesn’t falter.
Not when Tommy clenches around him like a vice just to try it out, not when his thighs tremble or his mouth drops open in a silent oh fuck of a moan when he fucks him through it.
And Tommy— Tommy is gone.
He can't think. Can barely breathe. His legs are still locked tight around Buck’s waist out of sheer stubbornness, heels digging into the backs of Buck’s thighs to pull him deeper, to get him under his skin. Then, Buck shifts his hips, snaps forward, and stars burst beneath Tommy’s eyelids, punching a lecherous cry out of him. Oh. Oh, that’s the spot. Every subsequent drag of Buck’s cock brushes that sweet, electric mark inside him so he tightens and grinds down best he can, chasing the high with panting breaths and shattered sounds. His dick is caught between them, leaking, untouched, rutting wetly against Buck’s stomach with every roll of their hips. He can feel the head brush the firm ridges of Buck’s abs— god, it feels so good— and he knows he won’t need a single touch to finish.
A gust of wind would tip him over the edge at this point.
Buck’s going to have him come untouched on his beautiful, talented cock and Tommy is drunk on it, soft little breathless cries tumbling out with every unerring thrust.
"You're taking me so fucking well," Buck whines, forehead pressed to Tommy’s, their sweat slicking together. Tommy’s flushed deep red, mouth slack, the faintest thread of drool caught at the corner of his lips. “Like your body was made for this. For me— just for me, sweet jesus—”
Tommy lets out a strangled noise. “F’you—” he gasps incoherently, hands searching blindly until they find Buck’s face. He wipes the sweat from his brow, moans when the brat turns his head and sucks his thumb into his mouth, tongue swirling. “M’just for you—”
Buck grins, wild, breathless, cocky, and pops his thumb free with a teasing pop. “That’s right,” He croons, and shifts again. One hand braces against the couch for leverage, the other hikes Tommy’s leg higher, opening him up, and then he slams in with a filthy slap of skin on skin. “Mine.” Tommy cries out, hand flying to cover his mouth, but Buck swats it away and leans in, kisses him through it, messy, uncoordinated, and perfect. “I wanna hear you,” he pants against his lips. “Every noise, every sound you make while I ruin you for anyone else.”
He released a monster.
Every inch of Tommy's body feels strung tight, every nerve pulled taut and quivering under Buck’s touch. The room has narrowed to heat and breath and skin — Buck above him, inside him, all around him. It’s too much and not enough, perfect and overwhelming. He’s going to combust, his whole body trembling, burning up from the inside out, nerves screaming from the relentless pressure, the heat, the way Buck fucks him like he means to leave an imprint on his very soul. His pace is hard and fast, precise. He’s found a rhythm that’s devastating to whatever shred of coherence Tommy still had left, every thrust knocking the breath out of Tommy's lungs with a punched-out grunt. His hands flail for purchase— shoulders, back, the curve of Buck’s neck, anything to ground himself through the storm that is Buck's lovemaking.
And slowly, steadily, it builds.
Tommy can’t breathe, can’t think— can barely hold on. His thighs tremble, his hands claw uselessly at the other’s back, fingers digging into and slipping on damp skin. “Evan,” he gasps, feeling it. “Evan, Evan, Evan —”
And Buck keeps wrecking him as it happens, nearly black irises laser-focused on his face. He watches it take hold and sees the way Tommy starts to come undone beneath him— the widening eyes, the slackening of his face, the trembling of his body. It’s different like this: when Tommy is in control, his lashes get low and he’s mostly quiet as he comes, groaning into the space between them or low between his shoulder blades.
Roles reversed, Buck watches as every nerve in Tommy’s body lights up, twitching as he races towards the finishing line.
And then— then, Tommy breaks.
It overtakes him in a long, drawn-out cry, wrung from the deepest part of him, his body locking up as his orgasm crashes over him, fierce and unrelenting. He pulses hard around Buck’s cock, twitching helplessly between them, streaking their stomachs with thick spurts of cum as his eyes roll back into his head. Buck keeps moving, fucking him through it, watching every second of it and burning it into memory, but when the tremors in Tommy’s body start to edge toward shivers, when his nails dig in a little too deep and he whines, mouth open and breath hitching— Buck slows. He eases the thrusts into gentle rolls, hips rocking slower, shallower, until he’s nearly still, just the twitch of his cock inside that warm, used heat. He cups Tommy’s jaw gently, swiping a thumb along his cheek. “You okay?”
Tommy doesn’t answer right away.
He just blinks up at him, dazed and wrecked and soaked in sweat, skin flushed all over, but his thighs twitch around Buck’s hips when the other tries to pull out, “No,” And his legs stay locked, tight as a trap.
“Tommy—”
“Y’didn’t come,” Tommy slurs, voice thick and soft like he’s high. Maybe he is. He pants once, twice, blinking like he’s trying to remember how to breathe. “You’re still hard.”
Buck huffs out a laugh, breathless with disbelief and want and love. “I don’t wanna overdo it,” he murmurs, releasing his death grip on the couch and moving his hand to Tommy’s thigh. He massages it, scratching gently at the abused skin. “God, Tom, you’re already—”
Tommy just shakes his head, lazy but firm. “Said I wanted the full experience,” he rasps, tongue wetting his bottom lip. His eyes, though glazed, are still dark, still hungry. “So give it to me, Evan.”
Buck shudders.
Still hesitates.
They’re not wearing condoms, and he knows what’ll happen if he lets go, knows exactly how much he’ll give. Tommy sees it, reads him like a damn book, and clenches around him, trapping him. “Exactly,” Tommy breathes, giving him a look, and Buck loses whatever hold he had on his composure. He groans low in his throat, grabs two handfuls of Tommy’s ass, and starts moving again, hard and fast. Tommy groans at the overstimulation and lets his head fall back, mouth slack as Buck pounds into him, chasing his release.
Because that’s what Tommy asked for. What he wanted.
The full experience.
And oh, is Buck going to give it to him.
Buck’s thrusting gets sloppier as he grows closer to his peak. His rhythm breaks, and he moans, loud and desperate, releasing the other's legs and bracing himself above the warm body beneath him. “C’mon, baby,” Tommy croons, panting, dick twitching valiantly at the continued stimulation even tho he’s utterly spent. His hands wander, foundling the other's nipples and sliding down, teasing at the sweaty base of the cock rearranging his insides. “Come in me. C’mon. ”
“Oh—” Buck wheezes. “Oh fuck— Tommy—” With one last thrust, he presses in deep and comes, hard and hot and endless with a debauched groan.
And Tommy mirrors the sound, feeling heat flood him, thick and scorching. He feels Buck’s cock jump inside him, marking him; every pulse, every little involuntary grind of Buck’s hips into his making him gasp and clench involuntarily, dragging it out even longer.
It’s so much. So much.
Tommy's head spins, his legs shake, and still, Buck fucks it into him with winded whimpers and in lazy, rutted thrusts, like he’s making sure every last drop he has to give stays in.
When Buck finally stops, the only sound in the room is their breathing, fire long reduced to embers— Tommy’s harsh and scattered, Buck’s ragged and ruined. Tommy tries to say something, maybe a thank you, maybe a holy fucking hell, do it again— but all that comes out is a broken sob.
Buck leans down gingerly, elbows rubbed raw from the rug, and kisses his cheek, his jaw, his sweat-soaked neck, everywhere he can reach until their breathing gets under control. "You okay?" he checks in, eyes soft.
Tommy nods, boneless. Dazed and glazed and full. The thick wool beneath him itches faintly now, but he’s too blissed-out to care. “Man down,” he whispers hoarsely, even gives a weak salute, and nearly takes his eye out with a finger. “But worth it.”
Buck laughs against his skin, tired but proud. "Damn right it was."
And Tommy, wrecked and dripping already, every nerve fried, can’t help but join him. They lie there, giggling like maniacs in each other's embrace, still intertwined with each other. He’s aware of Buck still inside him, slowly starting to soften, of the mess on his stomach sticking their skin together, and the aches start to come up, but he doesn’t care, happy and satisfied as he wraps his arms around the other’s neck and pulls him in for another kiss. It’s slow, tender. A soft exhale of love after a veritable hurricane of lust. When it breaks, Buck presses his forehead to Tommy’s, their noses brushing, and sighs, “You’re incredible. Thank you for trusting me.”
Tommy doesn’t even have the energy to joke or say something sweet back. He just hums, boneless.
But then Buck starts to ease back.
“Wait, don’t—” Tommy starts, instinctively clenching, a flush rushing down his chest.
“I know, but I gotta,” Buck murmurs soothingly, rubbing a thumb to the other’s bony hip. “I’ll go slow.”
And he does. He pulls out inch by inch, slow and careful as he had been entering him, his hands stroking over Tommy’s sides soothingly. Tommy groans through it— the drag on oversensitive skin, the overly wet slide, the obscene little pop when the head finally slips free. And then—
Oh God.
Warmth spills out of him in a thick, lewd gush. It trickles down his crack, no doubt pooling beneath him on the poor, abused rug, and Tommy moans, shaky and embarrassed, face burning. “That’s— Hadn’t thought about that when I asked you to—” He can’t finish it. “That’s so much.”
Buck makes a noise like a man watching art being made, eyes fixed on his seed dribbling out. “Yeah,” he breathes, possessive and awed. “It is.” He looks so smug. Tommy wants to swat him, but he can’t move. His bones are jelly, his insides molten. Ten out of ten, will want a round two for sure.
He’s not exactly planning on hiking anymore, after all.
He’s pulled out of his thoughts as Buck kisses his knee and murmurs, “Don’t move,” before he stands on shaky legs and wobbles away towards their only bathroom.
Tommy doesn’t think he could even if he wanted to. His limbs are weak after the workout, sprawled boneless on the thick woven rug, skin kissed red in places where the wool bit in. His hole pulses, sensitive and leaking, and the ambers crackle nearby, casting golden light on the mess they’ve made of each other.
He hears Buck rustling around as he dozes, then feels the warm touch of a damp washcloth to his thigh. Buck’s fingers are gentle as he cleans him up, and Tommy hums, satisfied and loved and cared for.
But then Buck pauses.
“Oh my God,” Buck breathes. “Tommy.”
Tommy cracks one eye open. “Mm?”
“You’ve got— Jesus, babe, rug burn? ” Buck sounds horrified, like he just committed an actual crime, as he surveys the damage. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Never even felt it,” Tommy replies honestly, growing sleepy. “Worth it,” he gives him a flimsy thumbs-up.
Buck stares at him like he just confessed to a crime. “I should’ve moved us to the bed. I got carried away, I’m so sorry.”
“Evan.”
“No, no, don’t ‘Evan’ me right now, I’m in crisis,” Buck mutters, gently patting a clean corner of the washcloth against the worst of the burn. “I took you on a rug. I am the worst boyfriend in the history of—”
“Evan.” Buck finally glances up, frowning, only to find Tommy reaching for him with the laziest grabby hands ever. “C’mere.”
“I don’t deserve cuddles,” Buck grumbles even as he lowers himself carefully back down beside him.
Tommy presses his forehead to Buck’s, both of them sticky and spent. “You gave me the best sex of my life, at my request,” he comforts. “And I’m not even mad that I’ll probably have to pay for the world’s ugliest rug, cos we’ve definitely ruined it. So shush.”
Buck huffs against Tommy’s cheek, clearly still spiraling, but Tommy just hums again, the sound all lazy satisfaction. Their bodies are tangled and aching, the room smells like sex and firewood, and neither of them is getting off this rug any time soon. “You feeling okay?” he eventually asks, brushing his knuckles gently down Tommy’s ribs. “I mean it. That was… a lot.”
“Yeah,” Tommy cracks an eye open, hazy and soft. “More than okay.” He whispers, then pauses, taking stock of his body. “Little sore. Might be broken. Not sure yet.”
Buck chuckles, then leans down and kisses his temple. “I’ll take care of you,” he promises.
i don't know if this is maybe too nsft but tommy eating buck out after coming in him? 👉👈
HOLY SHIT this image's literally seared into my brain right now. imagine them forgoing the condoms for the first time because buck's all i really, really, really need to feel you filling me up, tommy, and tommy - the type of gay who on the low daydreams about the fantasy scenario of breeding his cismale boyfriend regularly - goes blank for a second. for the most possible hornyness of this scenario, also imagine they're already half drunk on the moment, so the talk of stis or prep are like a million worlds away (these boys hate conversations anyway) so it is just one horny tommy acting on his most instinctive primal urge to stuff his boy up and he lets out a shaky yee-aah
and then he gets into buck and realizes this is the first time since he was a stupid baby gay that he's rawfucking anyone and anyone is not anyone actually, it's evan who's already moaning wetly at the first feel of tommy's bare dick in him. of course it doesn't take them long because it's stupidly hot and they're already halfway there and they're panting into each other's mouths like the pair of whores they are. buck mumble-chants fillmeupfillmeupfullmeup, please give me your cum, tommy, please and tommy's only a man. he comes deep in buck, burying his face in buck's neck as buck shatters under him.
after a couple moments to settle their breathing, tommy slips out of buck and glances at where his cockhead's still resting on his crack. the sight of buck's hole leaking his seed, wet and pink and fluttering, showing the proof of tommy just being in there, claiming him, almost kills tommy. he doesn't even know he's doing it before his lips are closing on the cum-slick patch of skin. his tongue is there, his teeth are there, his nose is there as he cleans buck up and by then they're both shivering and hard again
Can I say? I actually love that Buck and Tommy didn't interact at all this episode. I like that Tommy was there for Bobby - not Buck. Bobby was his captain, the first man of authority in his life to lead with compassion and show him how he can better himself. He wasn't with Bobby as long as the rest of the 118, but Bobby made a huge impact on his life. Tommy is mourning too. He has his own grief to live with, aside from watching the man he loves lose someone so important. Great choice by the writers, honestly.
