(no subject)

[farfromthesea]

The day promises to be a quiet one, or at least Theon sees it so. He's sprawled out on the couch, half-listening to a show about marine life on the little television, half-asleep. There's a cat on his stomach, and he knows to expect Daryl any minute.

He's not sure that he's been this relaxed and loose-limbed, not that he can recall, without the help of drink or other substance. He'd hardly turn away either of those things, but he's warm and content and quite sure his day can only get better.

Charbon leaps off his belly when she hears the sounds that predict Daryl's arrival, preferring a higher perch when there's a chance of canine company as well. The quick pressure is enough to make him grunt, and he sits up, pushing a hand through what he knows to be a hopeless case of bedhead.

"Hey," he says, when the door opens, still a bit blurry at the edges from dozing. They've long since reached the point where Theon doesn't worry about grinning like an absolute idiot, and so that's what he does.

Comments

[lastmanstandin]

"Hey," Daryl echoed, Dog trotting into the house ahead of him, making a beeline for Theon and nudging at him impatiently for affection.

Daryl's lips twitched, but despite the urge to do the same, he played it a little more cool.

"How's it goin'?" He asked, shutting the door behind him and leaning back against it as he bent to take off his boots.

[farfromthesea]

Theon leans down so he can give Dog a proper greeting, murmuring and working his hands behind the furry ears. It still strikes him, sometimes, how easy he feels around the dog, considering past associations. "Aye, you're a good one," he says quietly, and then looks up at Daryl.

"Better now," he answers, because the sight of Daryl making himself at home never fails to fill him with warmth. He'd be happier to never have him leave at all, though he's not sure about broaching it yet.

[lastmanstandin]

"You talking to me or the dog?" He said, barely hiding a smirk as he set his boots aside, striding into the kitchen to grab himself a drink and to wash off some of the grime of the day.

Shaking water from his hands, he moved to the couch, his throat working as he chugged down a glass of water. Setting the empty glass on the coffee table, he lifted Theon's legs from the seat to make room for himself, propping the other man's feet in his lap once he was settled.

"Whatchu watchin'?"

[farfromthesea]

"Can't be both?" Theon questions back, and he's also pretty content to just watch the line of Daryl's throat as he drinks, the television forgotten. At least until Daryl actually asks, and he has to look back over, utterly distracted by the way Daryl touches him to make space.

"...jellyfish, I think," he answers, glancing over. "There's going to be one on the giant squid later. It's funny, House Greyjoy was the House of the Kraken and I don't know that most of us would ever get to see anything like it with our own eyes. Every so often, a fishing boat went missing, but I don't remember much about it."

[lastmanstandin]

"I ain't never even seen the beach 'til we all went up north, after the world went to shit," Daryl admitted, kicking his own feet up onto the coffee table.

"Everything I've seen, it's still hard to imagine half that shit in the ocean's real."

[farfromthesea]

"Now you nearly live on the beach," Theon says, warm and relaxed, feeling as if he's sinking into the couch a bit. "And you can come to the aquarium, see the creatures I care for there. No kraken, but the octopus escapes nearly every day."

There's even a fading round sucker mark on the inside of his elbow, a testament to the latest battle with the small, slippery beast.

[lastmanstandin]

"The octopus escapes? Where in the hell does it go?"

Daryl let his head loll in Theon's direction, a skeptical tilt to his mouth as he waited for an answer. His thumb traced idle patterns on the bones of Theon's ankle, his hand warm and slipping beneath the leg of the other man's pants.

[farfromthesea]

"About wherever it fucking wants, is what I've learned," Theon says. "Tries to get into other tanks sometimes. Sometimes just tries to get outside. Once it tried to eat a kid."

He's mostly joking, his own mouth curving up even as his eyes become more heavily lidded. The touch of Daryl's hand both soothes him and sets his nerves on fire, and he exhales softly, happily.

[lastmanstandin]

"You're pulling my leg," Daryl observed, his own hand working higher up Theon's shin, working at a knot of tension in his calf.

For a moment, it was quiet, the only sound the clack of Dog's nails on the hardwood as he trotted over and laid himself down near Daryl's feet.

[farfromthesea]

"I'm not," Theon says, trying very hard not to dissolve into laughter, "We had to pry the arms off of this little shithead's arms, it's a long story." He ends up laughing anyway, at least until Daryl finds that knotted muscle, and then he lets out a sound of pleased relief, almost a moan, that eats up the silence and leaves him blushing just a little.

[lastmanstandin]

"Jesus," Daryl murmured, smirking as he kneaded at the other man's calf, eyes bright with amusement. It wasn't much of a knot, but Daryl worked at the muscle all the same. Theon seemed more relaxed than he'd been in all the time Daryl had known him, so he was well aware that this was as much an excuse to get their hands on each other as anything else.

The cabin was quiet and safe, in a way he struggled to trust. It sparked an old itch in him, but there was nothing out there to search for. Nothing in this world for him, except for what he could find within those walls.

He wasn't sure they needed to keep looking for excuses.

[farfromthesea]

Theon watches him as much as he lets himself sit there and enjoy being touched. He thinks, perhaps, that anything he's holding back now isn't necessarily out of fear, not anymore. At least fear that he won't be enough, that he's too broken.

He might be a little worried he's never going to be able to get enough.

Not enough of a worry, he knows, as he sits up a little more, reaches for Daryl, to keep him from this. "Come here," he murmurs, and he's not sure whether to crawl atop the other man or pull him down until Daryl covers him, but he's sure they'll figure it out.

[lastmanstandin]

Daryl seemed to consider the request for a moment, his expression impassive and his hand still curled behind the other man's calf. Drawing his feet off the coffee table, he nudged his way between Theon's legs, crawling over him— doing as he was told.

"Whatchu want?" He asked, eyes sparkling with a bit of mischief.

[farfromthesea]

The feeling of Daryl moving over him, the way he fits between Theon's thighs, makes his breath get a little shaky, his eyes get darker. He fists one hand in Daryl's shirt, slides the other to the base of his skull, and drags him forward further still.

"Want you," he breathes, leaning up just enough to brush their mouths together as he speaks. "Want you to touch me more. Want to touch you too."

[lastmanstandin]

"Yeah, I can do that," he murmured, the words slurred by a shallow press of lips, quickly chased by a deeper, lingering kiss. Leaning back on his haunches, Daryl shrugged out of his vest, throwing it haphazardly into a chair beside the couch.

"You sure you wanna miss your squids?"

[farfromthesea]

The hand at the back of Daryl's head slides down to the space between his shoulders, and then down to join the hand holding the fabric of his shirt. He parts his lips, kisses Daryl slow and wanting, even as scarred fingers seek a path to the warm skin at the small of his back.

"The squids?" Theon repeats, and then glances over at the TV as if surprised to see them. "Oh. Aye, they'll be fine. If anything, they support this." He knows his grin has to be a little goofy, even as warm as he's already feeling, and he urges Daryl back down to him.

[lastmanstandin]

"Yeah, you think?" He said, playing along as he settled his weight over the other man, breath punching out of his chest as their hips pressed flush.

With a hand at Theon's jaw, Daryl guided him into another kiss, and just like that, all his usual doubts were long gone. He'd spent so damn long drowning in everything he'd lost, in all the ways this could go wrong, but he wasn't gonna let something like this pass him by. Not again.

[farfromthesea]

"Yeah, I think," Theon breathes, and then he feels Daryl settle against him. Some tiny part of him had wondered if it would be too much, and he knows already he wants more. For so long, he's needed much of his life to be featherlight, the easier to keep from brushing against scars.

Even if he doesn't give it conscious thought, he feels the change in the way Daryl holds himself, the shift in his kiss, and he's kissing back fervently, thighs holding Daryl's hips in place. Theon gives a testing roll of his own hips, fingertips continuing to skate up Daryl's back without hesitation.

[lastmanstandin]

“Damn,” he murmured, breaking the kiss just to draw in a shaky breath. He moved on instinct, hips pressing down in answer to the eager press of Theon’s body beneath him.

He felt shaky with the sudden urgency welling up between them. But it wasn’t like they hadn’t been moving slow as a damn glacier, his own hesitancy driving them as much as Theon’s might’ve been.

Pressed up between Theon’s legs, it didn’t much occur to him what the other man might lack. He wasn’t used to working with another dick, anyhow. What he noticed was Theon’s warmth and the sounds he made, trapped up between their open mouths.

[farfromthesea]

It's not as if that slow grind doesn't do anything for Theon. The idea of it, that thrills him, and he knows by now that no cock doesn't mean no feeling there. Taken together, he chases the sensation, long out of practice but willing to learn again.

It's also not as if they haven't touched each other, haven't kissed and touched; one of Theon's favorite places to be is pressed against Daryl's side on this very couch, a long line of warmth and contact between them. It could have been enough, of course, more than enough, but more is very real now, and Theon wants it.

He manages an artless sort of rhythm, rocking up against Daryl, well aware of the small, needy sounds caught between them before they can become moans, the sound of their mouths together, all of it heady and hot.

[lastmanstandin]

Bracing himself with one hand on the arm of the couch, Daryl leaned back enough to see the other man’s face.

“What do you think ‘bout taking this off?” He asked, plucking at the fabric of Theon’s t-shirt. “You gonna let me see you?”

[farfromthesea]

"Yes," Theon breathes, and he doesn't doubt himself here either. There's no question for him that Daryl wants to undress him because he wants to, and so Theon moves and shifts until the t-shirt can come off. It lands on the floor, immediately out of his mind.

"You too," he adds, already tugging at the hem of Daryl's shirt.

[lastmanstandin]

"Mm-hm," Daryl hummed, nodding a bit distractedly as he helped the other man strip off his shirt, then fumbled at the buttons of his own. Caught by the dark look in Theon's eyes, the flush creeping across his pale chest, Daryl didn't think twice about his own scars.

Letting the worn button up fall to the floor, Daryl leaned in for another kiss, this one deep, and thorough.

[farfromthesea]

The press of skin against skin, Daryl's mouth against his, feels like a bit of a revelation-- made better by the realization that there's more ahead, that they can have more. As much as they want.

His lips part eagerly, again and again, as he tastes Daryl's mouth, feels the rasp of their tongues sliding together. He wants this man so much, and each kiss only further sets the notion that he has him now, in a way that hadn't been fully real until right now.

[lastmanstandin]

They were rutting against each other like a couple of teenagers, but despite Daryl being way too old for that shit, it was just about the greatest thing he'd done in recent memory. He'd never had much of a sex drive to speak of, except under rare circumstances with an even rarer person, but he currently felt a helluva lot like he was on fire.

"You alright?" He teased, a faint grin pressed against the corner of Theon's mouth, his hands getting just a little bit bolder as he reached down to grip the other man's hip.

[farfromthesea]

"Better than," Theon gasps, tilting his head so he can mouth against the line of Daryl's jaw. All of the touching sets his skin to buzzing, wakes up his nerves, and he knows even if there was nothing else but that, he'd be content.

Only that isn't all, there's a tight ache between his thighs that he knows to be arousal.

He catches Daryl's mouth again, hard and hungry, only to be gasping a few moments later, "Get the rest of it off too? Or down, or, just let me feel you."

[lastmanstandin]

"Jesus," Daryl muttered, sitting back on his haunches and working open his belt. With a grunt of effort, he climbed to his feet, just to make quicker work of getting out of his jeans.

"Come on," he said, nudging at Theon's thigh with his knee. "I ain't gonna be the only one with my ass out."

He felt a little crazed as he undid his fly and shoved his jeans down, banging his shin on the coffee table as he kicked them off.

[farfromthesea]

Theon laughs, and it's a warm, happy sound that he wouldn't have associated with a moment like this even before. He's caught, for a moment, just watching, before the words properly catch up to him.

He doesn't hesitate, undoing the button and fly of his jeans and starting to wriggle out of them, catching his underwear with it. Everything gets shimmied down his hips and thighs until he can ease the bunching denim down with his feet, letting it drop to the floor too.

They've waited a long time, they really have, but as he lays there, naked and open and a hand creeping down not to hide his scar but to touch the swollen flesh beneath and around, it's so fucking for it.

[lastmanstandin]

"We could probably move this to the bed," he pointed out, biting back a grin as he knelt down on the couch, one hand sliding up along the inside of Theon's thigh.

"Unless you got a thing for screwing around on the couch like a couple of kids."

[farfromthesea]

"I think I've probably got a thing for screwing around in lots of places," Theon says, but he's pushing off the couch and pulling Daryl up too. "But you're right, we should go to bed."

The bedroom's small, of course, enough room for a bed and a stand of drawers, a shallow closet, a bedside table-- the table and its contents having something to do with Theon's decision.

He sits down on the edge of the bed and then slides back, tugging Daryl back down with him.

[lastmanstandin]

After getting over the awkwardness of walking through the cabin bare-assed naked, Daryl followed him into the bedroom, hovering momentarily just inside the door.

He'd been in the bedroom before, but never in this context. Never with Theon naked on the bed and reaching for him.

"I'll keep that in mind," he murmured, hiding his sheepish smile behind the fall of his hair. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Daryl leaned over him, one hand cupping the side of Theon's face while the other drifted between his legs, careful but surprisingly deft.

"This don't hurt?" He asked, because his scars were well healed, but still angry and knotted in places. The last thing he wanted to do was push things too far, but he'd seen the way Theon's hands had drifted down to touch himself, so it couldn't have been all bad.

[farfromthesea]

Anything else Theon might have had to say evaporates from his mind then, one of Daryl's hands on his face and the other between his thighs. His heart beats hard in his throat, but he's always moving to offer better access, groaning at the sensation. The sight, too, arouses him in a way he hadn't expected; seeing Daryl's hand where Theon's cock should be, big and just rough enough. Whatever he is now, it's his own body, and he likes the way it looks with Daryl's fingers stroking against soft skin, the edges of scars.

"It doesn't hurt," he says, turning his face just enough to scrape his teeth on Daryl's fingers. "It feels good. There's still, ah, something that feels good there."

[lastmanstandin]

Daryl traced the longer scar curved along the mound of what was left of his genitals, curving from the opening of his urethra and under the shrunken sack of his balls. The doctors in Darrow had clearly done their best, but the wound was so obviously a product of strange, unimaginable cruelty. Still, Daryl touched him without pity, soft where the skin was more delicate, and with more pressure where he seemed to need it.

"You're gonna have to give me some direction here," he admitted with a sheepish smirk.

[farfromthesea]

"I don't have a lot of direction to give," Theon admits, watching him with wide, hungry eyes. "I only really, ah, started seeing what felt good a few months ago." There's, of course, the sex chart made by his friend David, but that's been kept safely in his work locker.

Theon slides his fingers between Daryl's, guiding them to the patch of skin, the swell of tissue beneath that feels best, that already feels warm and good, for lack of a clearer term. "Like that," he says, and then he pulls Daryl's fingers up to his mouth, sucking briefly before sliding his hand back to that spot.

[lastmanstandin]

"Seems like you got the hang of it," Daryl murmured, feeling a little shell-shocked as Theon moved him where he wanted him, the warmth of Theon's mouth wrapped around his fingers sending a surprising jolt straight to his dick.

"You think you can come like this?" He asked, his voice a hoarse whisper, his touch becoming more confident as he watched Theon respond to it.

[farfromthesea]

"I found myself with more reason than I'd expected," he says, feeling a bit of gravel in his throat, "to see how I would like it. If I would."

Part of him had expected to feel like less of a man, being rubbed between his legs like this; he finds now that it's a bare brushstroke of a thought, easily sent on it's way. He dares to press up into the touch, his breathing growing a little ragged. "I can," he says, "not-- not always but this is so much, it's you." Surging forward, he seeks Daryl's mouth with his own.

[lastmanstandin]

"Yeah, alright," Daryl mumbled into the kiss, letting Theon move against him, moving with him, the two of them learning a the rhythm of each other. He was hard against Theon's thigh, straining, but it was an after thought. He'd deal with it later, or not at all.

One finger slid lower, dry along the crease of the other man's perineum, but no lower. He didn't know how in the hell that would go, but a lizard-brained thought coiled in the back of his mind, telling him that he'd like to find out.

[farfromthesea]

Sucking in a breath, Theon pulls Daryl with him, down further to the bed, further onto the bed so that they're on their sides, curled together. He curls his maimed hand around the hot length of Daryl's cock, feeling the weight and the truth of it. "This is for me," he murmurs, and it could have been a question, but it's not. It should sound funny, and maybe it does, but the words are laced with a bit of wonder.

He pulls Daryl back into another kiss, knee sliding along Daryl's thigh so that he can touch him there again, so that the can rub together and Theon can feel the drag of Daryl's cock against his hipbone, along his ass if he shifts just right.

[lastmanstandin]

"Who the hell else would it be for?" He said with a low, rough tumble of laughter. Gripping Theon's hip, Daryl dragged him in close, their hips fitting together, their bodies falling into a rhythm that was entirely instinct.

"You've got the prettiest damn eyes I've ever seen," he admitted in a breathless rush, one hand on Theon's face, holding him at just enough distance to look his fill.

[farfromthesea]

Theon looks back at him, eyes wide, the blue rapidly being consumed by the black, too caught by surprise to even respond in that moment. A moment later, he surges back to Daryl's mouth, starting to feel the kind of urge and edge of desperation that hadn't even occurred to him as a possibility. Feeling good had seemed enough of an aspiration, but now he wants, and he wants.

So he says it, gasping against Daryl's lips, "I want you, I want you so much, doesn't have to be now but I want you inside me, want--"

His body remembers how to move like this, though it's different, wrapping one leg around Daryl and moving his hips. Different than anything he's known, and so fucking good.

[lastmanstandin]

"Goddamn," he grunted, the rhythm of his hips stuttering, cock leaking and dragging along the crease of Theon's ass. For two idiots unsure of what the hell they were doing, their bodies seemed to be figuring shit out with dizzying certainty. "You can't go saying shit like that without giving a man some warning."

There was a smile in his eyes as he shifted back to look at Theon's face.

"If you want that now, you're gonna have to give me a breather. I ain't been this close to coming, this fast, in a long damn time."

[farfromthesea]

Where he might have once wondered, not even thinking of this man, whether he'd be able to handle the feel of a hard cock against him again. So many fucking things are different since he'd wondered, and while maybe he'd known it before, nothing could have prepared him for this reality, where the weight of hot, hard flesh on his thigh makes him press closer, makes him want more.

And when Daryl responds positively, Theon nods, chasing his mouth for a kiss.

"Aye," he gasps. "Would need to get ready for that. Bedside drawer, hand it to me."

[lastmanstandin]

Grunting in the affirmative, Daryl rolled Theon over onto his back, crawling half across him to get into the bedside drawer and root around. Coming up triumphant with a bottle of slick, he passed it over, his mouth bunched up to try and keep the reigns on a grin he knew would've been absolutely ridiculous.

It was like a damn teenager, full of nerves and excitement, and if it wasn't the best goddamn feeling in the world.

[farfromthesea]

Theon's grinning, up at the ceiling, though he tries to rein it in slightly when Daryl hands him the little bottle.

He pauses a moment, cupping Daryl's jaw before he ends up with slippery fingers, to see the same joy there. Before this, he'd assumed it would be more intense, more serious, and here he's pressing his laughing mouth against Daryl's lips, settling in again with his thighs spread.

Spreading the lube on his fingertips, he's already pressing in with one, when he looks up at Daryl again, cheeks dusky and hot.

[lastmanstandin]

"Jesus Christ," Daryl rumbled out, bracing a hand on the mattress by Theon's head, the other resting high on the inside of his thigh.

There was that little voice in his head, crowing and laughing about how he really was a goddamn queer. It was his brother's voice, gleeful and thoughtlessly cruel, the son of a bitch. The sad thing was, Daryl missed the mean old bastard, as fiercely as he had nearly a decade ago. Difference was, he'd hit a point in his life where he could've responded with confidence that, hell yes, he was a goddamn queer, or some other label he didn't understand or have any interest in. Hell yes, he was about to fuck a man in the ass, so— shut the hell up, you ol' peckerhead.

Grabbing for the tube, Daryl squeezed a bit too much onto his own palm, slicking himself up. Then, with slick fingers, he nudged up alongside the one Theon had pressed into himself, muttering, "Let me."

[farfromthesea]

Theon knows this moment holds a serious fucking degree of importance for both of them, both of them turning their backs on something old and perhaps painful or poisoned in some what, for something that feels to him fresh and new. He's no virgin, not even at this, but he feels a bit like it-- only better, because he knows what to do.

He knows how to pull his hand away and let Daryl taking over the stretching, his whole body a flushed thudding pulse at the feel of Daryl's rough fingers smoothed with slick, catching at his hole.

And for all that importance, something feels just lit up inside him. "Aye," he breathes. "I want it. Want you to do it."

[lastmanstandin]

Daryl felt clumsy and in over his goddamn head, but he had strong, deft fingers and was a quick study. With his free hand, he palmed at the side of Theon's face, a weight seeming to press down on his chest, refusing to let him ignore the significance of the moment.

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing," he admitted with a sheepish quirk of a smile, watching Theon's face intently as his body relaxed, the rough pad of his middle finger breaching that tight clench of muscle and pressing in slowly past the second knuckle.

[farfromthesea]

"It's good," Theon tells him, "you're doing fine, it's good."

He breathes through parted lips, turning his head to press his mouth against the hand at the side of his face. Obvious as it sounds, it's not like when he's done it for himself. Daryl may not have the experience, but it does feel good, would feel good for nothing else but knowing that Daryl's here, doing this for him.

"Aye, keep going," Theon says, surprised by his own boldness. "Open me up for you."