I am very happy everyone's picking super important Robron relationship things to ask you to write about but I basically want Aaron's birthday present 'Upstairs' in fic form with that darn waistcoat *shrug*
fINe anything for you, sheree :))))))))
As soon as Aaron shuts the door of the bedroom, he leans against it.
Robert’s standing in front of the bed, necking champagne, the material of his waistcoat stretching nicely over his back. Aaron lets himself look, eyes dragging over the nape of Robert’s neck, the curves of his shoulder, back, and arse, the long, lean legs. Robert’s gorgeous - and he knows it - and Aaron’s so fucking lucky he gets this exclusively.
(-there’s no room for doubt, no room for guilt, here in their space-)
“Hey,” Aaron says, coming up behind Robert. He rests his hands on Robert’s hips, presses his forehead against the top of Robert’s spine.
Robert stills, dropping the arm holding the champagne. His free hand settles on one of Aaron’s, brushing his fingertips over Aaron’s knuckles. “Alright?”
Aaron says nothing, hums, then slides his hands up, over Robert’s stomach and up to his chest. He bunches the waistcoat in his hands. Robert relaxes under his touches. They stand like that for a moment, reveling in the time they have to do this. It’s so rare, they have to be so quick, but for the first time in days Aaron can take his time.
“Turn around,” Aaron says, voice rough. He hears the hitch in Robert’s breath, the jerky movement as Robert rests the champagne bottle on the nightstand. When he turns, Aaron can see the flush on his cheeks, the darkened tint to his eyes. Robert’s easy, it doesn’t take much to get him going, and sometimes it takes Aaron a while to realise it’s because of him.
The waistcoat looks good on Robert, Aaron reasons, tongue darting out over his bottom lip. He slides his fingers between two buttons, flicks his thumb and starts to open it.
“Dressed up for me, huh?”
Robert blinks, mouth quirking up into that godawful smirk Aaron wishes he hated. He tugs Robert in by the waistcoat, curls his free hand around the back of Robert’s neck. They kiss, hot and heavy, and Aaron backs Robert up until Robert’s legs hit the bed. He keeps Robert upright with a tight grip on the waistcoat. When he pulls away, Robert’s still smirking, but his eyes are darker, and his fingers are flexing against Aaron’s arms.
Aaron deftly slides the rest of the buttons from their holes and opens the waistcoat, exposing Robert’s shirt. He contemplates his next move, wonders if he should shed Robert of all his clothes. Robert’s waiting, compliant and easy, giving Aaron whatever he wants.
Tugging Robert in for another kiss, Aaron waits until Robert’s making needy noises into his mouth, until he can feel Robert’s dick hard against his thigh. He pushes Robert down until he’s sitting on the bed, runs a hand through his hair.
“Wanna give me my present?” Aaron asks, eyes catching on the way Robert licks his lips, the way Robert’s eyes dart down to Aaron’s obvious erection.
“Thought I was?” Robert says, smug, and Aaron snorts.
It’s not until Aaron starts undoing his belt, reaches one hand into his boxers to tug on his dick, that Robert’s face goes slack, that he gets it.
Robert’s blowjobs are rough and imperfect, a little bit like him, but they’re exactly what Aaron needs. Robert reaches up for Aaron’s trousers, and Aaron lets him tug them down, lets him free Aaron’s dick from his boxers. There’s a beat, Robert looking up at him through his eyelashes, and then he ducks forward, kissing the tip of Aaron’s dick.
Aaron’s drops a hand to the top of Robert’s head, fists a handful of his hair as Robert wraps a hand around the base of Aaron’s cock and opens his mouth, sliding wet, slick lips down Aaron’s length.
It’s heat, a thrill, and Aaron lets out a groan, throat tight with want. Robert’s an expert on knowing how to get Aaron worked up; where to press his tongue (rough against the vein on the underside of Aaron’s cock), how much teeth to use (Aaron likes a soft rake, the thin line between pleasurepain that makes his legs tremble), exactly when to hum (the vibrations make Aaron’s stomach twist in pleasure), and how fast to take it (Aaron likes it slow at first, loves the drag of Robert’s lips, but the closer he gets to orgasm, the faster he likes Robert to go, the deeper he likes Robert to go) -
- and Robert can take him deep.
It took a few tries, Aaron remembers, eyes on the curve of Robert’s mouth around his dick, the wetness of his spit-slick lips, but Robert’s throat always gives. He’d been hasty to please, desperate for Aaron to want him again, love him again (as if Aaron could ever have stopped, will ever stop), and he wanted to learn; and learn he did, Aaron’s dick hitting the back of his throat on only the third try.
Aaron takes advantage of it as often as he can.
Robert’s settling into an easy rhythm, free hand on Aaron’s hip, soft noises working their way out of him. Aaron tugs sharply on his hair, because he can, because he knows Robert, and watches Robert’s eyes flutter shut, a groan rattling in his chest. Aaron dictates the pace, tightens his grip if Robert goes too fast, eases a little if he settles down.
Aaron touches the corner of Robert’s mouth, slides a thumb in next to his cock and watches Robert’s dick jump; it’s obvious in his trousers, straining against the material, and Aaron wants.
“Rob,” Aaron says, voice breaking, and the noise Robert lets out shoots straight to Aaron’s dick. “Come on.”
Aaron’s fingers release Robert’s hair, but he slides his hand to the back of Robert’s head, strokes his hair gently. Robert lets out a slow breath through his nose, looks up through his eyeslashes, the fucker, and Aaron knows he’s be smirking if he didn’t have a mouthful of cock.
Aaron’s dick sinks back into Robert’s mouth, Aaron can’t stop watching; Robert relaxes his throat, moans, and Aaron feels white hot heat in his belly, his toes curling against the carpet, and fuck, fuck, “Rob.”
Robert’s making little noises, huffs of breath, and he curls both hands into the back of Aaron’s shirt, fists the material. Aaron’s right there, wants, and Robert hums.
Aaron’s orgasm crashes over him, feels Robert pull back enough to swallow and clings to Robert’s hair, his shoulder. Robert holds him in his mouth until he’s spent, until his dick twitches with every movement.
“Happy birthday,” Robert says, voice rough and fucked out.
Aaron leans down, kisses him rough and hard, bites at the curve of his jaw. “Not quite over yet.”
Robert’s eyes darken, but he smirks, cupping Aaron’s dick through his trousers. “Wanna ride me?”
“No,” Aaron says. “Want you to ride me.”
Aaron sees the flash of want in Robert’s eyes, imagines how good Robert will look - how he always looks - hands on Aaron’s chest, dick curved up against his belly, muscles straining with the effort, and wants.
As Robert starts to shed his waistcoat and shirt, Aaron watches him, can’t believe he got this lucky.
Mine, he thinks viciously.
(This is all his, all his.)
