(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.

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[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."