by Zimmerman, L
“I don‘t want to sleep! I’ve been concussed!” Grant was probably just paranoid, but he'd grown up hearing stories about how people would go to sleep and never wake up. That's pretty much what had happened with his mom. He would rather suffer a sleepless night than drop off into a coma against his will. Nothing the doctors could say otherwise would put him at ease.
“Whatever you want, man. I’m just glad you’re okay, dude.” Adam said quietly, crossing the room and bending down to hug Grant.
“Me too, man.” Grant agreed, rubbing his head against Adam’s. Adam had really soft hair. It was almost as fun to rub his face into as Clayton's. “It would totally suck if I wasn’t okay. What if I woke up in a coma, right? And I missed, like, five years of my life.” That would suck. That would be beyond Lifetime movie suckage.
“What if I woke up five years in the future and Clayton was married to someone else and had kids? He’s not allowed to do that. He has to have my babies. Well, not actually have my babies, but be involved in the process of acquiring said babies and--”
“Can I ask my mom to just take him off the morphine completely?” Adam asked Jessica. Grant made a face, glowering in response to Adam's playful smile.
“You should get me some coffee, instead.” Grant offered, “Since I want to stay awake all night.”
Adam stood up, clapping Grant's shoulder. “Anything for my best buddy.” With that, Adam not only pulled his own wallet out to thumb through for change, but took a left outside the door instead of a right. That meant he was heading for the cafeteria--Grant was getting himself some café coffee, not vending machine coffee. Fancy hospital stuff right there.
Grant was going to totally milk this injury for as long as he could.
Chapter 12
Grant felt a little better knowing he wasn’t the only zombie around when Clayton came to pick him up an hour or two before the crack of dawn. Just seeing the tired expression on Clayton’s face when he drove the both of them back to Grant's house was proof enough that his entire night at work had been stressful. Grant himself was pretty much ready to climb into bed for a few hours until they headed out for the fair.
His bed was already calling to him, giving him promises of warmth, softness, and the best sleep imaginable. There was also the likelihood that Grant would be able to drag Clayton between the sheets and force-cuddle him to death. Even though Grant had already gotten his fair share of morning kisses back at the hospital, he expected plenty more.
Grant hadn’t anticipated how nerve wracking the ride home would be, though. Every single movement from another car on the road had him jumping nervously in his seat. Clayton must have seen the way Grant would jerk when someone cut them off or moved too fast, because he grabbed Grant's hand less than ten minutes into the drive.
“Cover your eyes. Pretend you’re on a kiddie roller coaster,” he advised quietly. Grant wondered belatedly if Clayton had ever gotten into car accidents before. It was just another thing about Clayton that Grant hoped to find out over time.
He was too tired to even argue, so he curled up against the window as best he could without letting go of Clayton’s hand. Even his brain was fried. He barely could keep up any internal commentary--and that was his favorite thing to do. Grant squeezed Clayton’s hand, holding tight.
Somewhere between one turn and the next, Grant drifted off. He felt so much safer in Clayton’s truck compared to the hospital that it was kind of ridiculous. He shouldn’t be lulled by the rumbling seats or the roar of a giant engine, but he was.
Clayton woke him up after parking in Grant's driveway by dragging his fingers up Grant's arm and back down, calluses tickling the skin. Grant groggily came to, watching Clayton use his free hand to unbuckle Grant's seatbelt while still tickling at Grant's arm and wrist to coax him awake. It tingled enough for Grant to whine, slap Clayton’s hand away, and practically roll out of his seatbelt and out of the door of the truck.
He was a little disheartened to see the driveway empty, which meant his dad had already gone to work. They [probably just missed each other, which happened far too often already. Still, it did mean that he and Clayton had the house to themselves. Of course, despite the fact that Grant would have been completely on board for multiple levels of sexual activity, he wanted a shower more than anything.
Lucky for Grant, Clayton also happened to want a shower.
How on earth they went from washing their bodies, to Clayton holding Grant up against the wall and knocking his legs open with a knee, Grant had absolutely no idea. Nope. None at all.
“Lube,” Grant groaned, riding on Clayton’s thigh using the slip-slide of water to gain momentum. Clayton kissed him again and again, mouth desperate to keep contact with Grant's, like he was reassuring himself Grant was there, in his arms. “Dude, c‘mon--” Grant gasped when Clayton sucked on his lower lip, reaching up to put a hand on Clayton’s chest. “Soap is ineffective as lube, I have totally tried. You should go and get the lube from under the sink. Right now.”
Clayton scrambled to comply, but only after he lowered Grant down to the floor of the shower. Considering all Grant had under the sink was some toilet paper and a few cleaning products, Clayton was flinging back the curtain again in no time. Grant reached out, dragging Clayton in for a kiss because--hey, he’d nearly died, all right? He was totally justified in being kind of needy right now.
Clayton crowded him up against the wall, mostly blocking the lukewarm spray as he fumbled to open the lube with one hand while the other slid up and down Grant's side. Grant pressed their lips together, fingers scraping through Clayton’s hair as he bit and licked his way into that warm, open mouth. Clayton grunted out a breathy sigh, snagging Grant by the side of the neck to keep him steady, to press the warm line of their bodies together and rut into him.
“Jesus,” Grant gasped out when Clayton moved to nip kisses into his chin and jaw. Clayton nuzzled his cheek and Grant was suddenly overwhelmed with how much he really loved Clayton. How devastating it would have been if he’d died, if he’d lost Clayton this early on. Grant clutched his arms around Clayton’s shoulders, pressing their temples together when Clayton’s palm rested against his chest.
Clayton groaned, kissing Grant on the cheek and pulling back enough to dump some lube into his hand. Grant kept up the motion of his hips, even though there was too much space for anything other than the occasional brush that had Clayton twitching.
"Eager," Clayton teased, wrapping his fist around Grant's thickening cock and giving it a rough, tight stroke. Grant moaned, throwing his head back without thinking and regretting it the second the top of his head hit the shower wall. Pain flared in his skull and he cried out, knees buckling.
“Grant? Fuck--I’m sorry, are you okay?” Clayton cursed, hauling Grant up and then helping him out of the shower. Grant groaned, his head spinning while Clayton went about shutting the water off and then grabbing a towel to wipe Grant down. He used gentle swipes of the cloth around Grant's head, though it still made everything hurt.
“M’fine,” Grant said, mortified. This was just painful and downright embarrassing. “Still wanna get laid, though.”
Clayton huffed on a laugh, leaning in and pressing his lips to Grant's forehead. Grant liked to think that it helped the pain dull, even going so far as to close his eyes and try and force himself to believe it. Clayton swayed when he stood, reaching out to rub his hand over Grant's head and grabbed a towel to wrap around his waist.
“Well, come on then,” Clayton teased, gesturing towards the door, “I don’t know how much longer you’re going to be of use to me; you’re looking like a zombie.”
“You’re a zombie,” Grant shot back petulantly, flicking Clayton playfully on the ear before hightailing it to the bedroom. He almost made it into his room when Clayton’s thick arms wrapped around his stomach and a playful growl was loud in his ears.
“I’ll show you zombie,” Clayton nipped at his earlobe, wriggling his feet under Grant’s heels to waddle-walk
them towards the bed. Clayton’s palm was warm and wide against Grant’s belly, stroking up until Grant had to stumble when his left nipple was tweaked painfully.
“Oy!” he cried, flailing a hand back to swat Clayton on the hip, “hands off the goods!”
“Mmh, but they’re my goods, aren’t they?” Clayton murmured, nosing along Grant’s hairline and pressing slow, achingly gentle kisses there. Grant struggled to think of a good response, but anything that came to mind was quickly forgotten when he felt Clayton start to grind up against his ass.
“You said I could top!” Grant whined, squirming because this was completely unfair. They had a deal, okay. Grant did not like being coerced out of the things he was promised, and what he was promised was a nice one-on-one session with Clayton’s gloriously well-rounded derriere.
Clayton went still, rocking against Grant for a second before he let out an amused huff and pulled away. Grant had half a second to register the loss of bodily contact before Clayton flopped gracelessly onto Grant‘s bed.
Staring, Grant watched as Clayton played with the hem of his towel, pushing it down a little and then spreading his legs. "Well? Get on with it," he teased.
“Oh, I will.” Grant affirmed, kneeling onto the bed and then climbing on top of Clayton. He pressed a hand against Clayton’s chest and tapped his collarbone, watching the way Clayton’s nostrils flared for just a second and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. “I’m going to make you beg for it.”
Clayton snorted, which was like silently issuing a challenge that Grant felt obligated to uphold. He bent down and pressed his mouth right over Clayton’s adam’s apple, mouthing gently and then flitting his tongue out to lick a hot stripe up against the underside of Clayton's chin. Clayton froze, and Grant could feel his breath hitch the second Grant bit down gently, and then dragged a series of sloppy, sweet kisses to Clayton’s collarbone. He only paused every now and then to give a good, sharp nip, until he reached the curve where Clayton’s neck met his shoulder. That’s when Grant pressed his hands down, forcing Clayton against the bed and rocking their hips together with a quick, sharp bite.
Clayton gasped, and Grant did again, harder, pleased when Clayton gave an aborted jerk. His body was soft, firm warmth beneath Grant's. He smelled like bar soap and sweat and Grant could feel the way their hearts thundered unevenly together. All of this made him want to do anything and everything in his power to completely take Clayton apart, to worship him and memorize each and every inch of his body.
Grant nosed up under Clayton’s ear, biting the lobe and sucking it between his teeth, hearing and feeling the way Clayton struggled not to groan softly. Each time it happened, it made Grant want to do it more and more until Clayton was a completely wrecked mess.
Clayton brought a hand up to Grant's hip, but Grant caught onto his wrist before it could make contact, shoving Clayton’s arm against the mattress and pinning it down. Clayton inhaled sharply, and Grant felt the muscles in his hand and arm shift and then relax. Good boy. Grant grinned into Clayton’s jaw, kissing the hinge and then taking his other hand and shoving it up under Clayton’s shirt.
“How long do you think it would take for me to kiss your whole body? I wouldn’t mind getting my mouth all over your Adonis self at any time of day--”
“You’d complain about pubic hair in your mouth.” Clayton blurted. Grant jerked back with wide eyes. Did he just--
“It’s the truth.” Clayton added, because, well. It was. It was kind of scary that Clayton already knew him that well. Grant couldn’t help but laugh, loud and long, and bent down to press his smile against the curve of Clayton’s amused smirk.
“You should work on your manscaping, then,” Grant muttered, and Clayton snorted quietly. Grant kissed him again, and then again and again until he couldn’t tell where one kiss ended and the other began.
At some point, he was able to wrestle the both of them out of their towels until the only thing between their bodies was heat, sweat, and the tiniest bit of precum. Grant rocked their hips together, groaning when the head of his dick got caught in the dip of Clayton’s belly button. Clayton didn’t seem interested in doing anything about it, he was too busy trying to bite a hickey into Grant's bottom lip, hands clutching the back of Grant's head to keep him from pulling away.
Grant fumbled for the night stand, and Clayton pulled back enough to give him a few seconds to loot around in it. His hands wrapped around his half-emptied bottle of lube, mentally cheering in triumph. Sitting back, ass nestled comfortably on top of Clayton’s thighs, Grant fumbled with the cap, making sure not to get too overzealous like Clayton had done last time.
Clayton shifted, sliding one leg out from under him and laying back against the bed to watch Grant with half-opened eyes and a curl of a smile on his mouth.
“Oh my God.” Grant groaned, bringing one slicked up hand down between Clayton’s legs to grab his dick. Clayton jumped, eyes wide as he watched Grant squeeze and stroke him. Clayton had an amazing cock, okay. It was thick and hard in all the right places, and Grant really, really needed to suck on it. Only he would have to wait until another time when he hadn’t just covered it in lube. Mostly because lube was not tasty. At all.
“Grant.” Clayton snapped almost breathlessly. Grant looked up, one eyebrow rising high because yeah, he did feel a little cocky knowing that he was the reason Clayton sounded like that.
“Did you need something?” Grant asked, smiling innocently. Clayton’s nose twitched in unison with his lip curling just the tiniest bit, brows pinching in an adorable pissy-faced expression. Clayton huffed through his nose, but kept quiet, which was not what Grant wanted. He squeezed the base of Clayton’s cock, dragging his fist up and down and then easing his hand to Clayton’s balls, cupping and massaging them with a pressure just shy of firm. Grant visibly saw Clayton’s right leg twitch at the knee and fall to the side the tiniest bit, like he was instinctively wanting to open himself for Grant.
That was just the way Grant liked it, actually.
Setting down the lube, Grant climbed off of Clayton’s other thigh, just so he could grab the meat of it and push until Grant had plenty of room to work with. He could see the skin of Clayton’s hips and groin stretching from the spread of his legs, his cock red and swollen where it rested on crease of his pelvis. .
With a soft noise, Grant grabbed him underneath of each knee and hoisted them up onto his shoulders. He ignored the cry of surprise that came from Clayton, instead dragging Clayton’s upper body close enough that he could nose his way up under his balls. A bit of lube smeared across his nose, but it didn’t matter because when Grant licked a big, wet, flat line right up the seam, Clayton’s thighs clamped around his head like a vice.
"Uunnh--" Clayton's groan cut off, muffled through his clenched teeth.
Clayton’s scent was heady, the skin of his balls soft as they shifted under his tongue. He even made sure not to complain about any pubic hair, just because proving Clayton right was always a mood ruiner. Instead he licked a second time, sucking on each one long enough that Clayton’s thighs started to quake. Clayton’s hand grabbed onto his wrist, making the bone creak and Grant's grip on Clayton’s knee weaken just the tiniest bit.
Relentless, Grant gently tugged the skin along the underside of Clayton’s balls between his teeth, nipping and then releasing it to lick and kiss the abused skin.
“Fuck!”
Taking Clayton's shout as encouragement, Grant nuzzled up until he could press loud, wet kisses against the skin behind Clayton’s balls. He blindly reached around to Clayton’s stomach, arm wrapping around his hips--Clayton’s cock bumping against it and smearing precum all along his forearm--and pulled until Grant had easy access to press his face in and run his tongue along the pucker of Clayton’s hole.
It was like someone electrocuted Clayton, because Grant had to hold tight to his stomach just to keep from getting whiplash from the force of Clayton’s full-body jerk. Pulling back after one last flick of his ton
gue, Grant didn’t give Clayton time to even complain. With a twist and shove, he flipped his lovely, manly, utterly fuckable boyfriend right onto his stomach.
“Grant!” Clayton yelped, "a little warning?"
“You like it.” Grant shot back, and then, just to test his limits he brought his hand up and slapped Clayton right on his left asscheek. Clayton jerked and Grant could actually hear the sound of the bed sheets wrenching. “Good, huh?”
Clayton looked over his shoulder and gave Grant the most annoyed, filthiest glare of all time. His face was beet red, and a total giveaway to the fact that he was most definitely enjoying it.
Grant swatted his ass again, right on top of the faint red mark. Clayton howled, and Grant grabbed a handful of each cheek and spreading him wide. He ducked down, flattening his tongue right on the center of Clayton’s exposed hole and dragging it up to his crack.
The muscles of Clayton’s back twinged, so Grant's set his hand at the base of Clayton’s spine and started to massage in unison with each swipe of his tongue. He’d never really rimmed anyone before, but he’d been on the receiving end enough to know just what he liked, and hopefully Clayton would like it too.
