Pairing: Matt/John, slight Matt/Lucy
Summary: Matt tries to work out how his story ends.
When the fire sale's over, Matt dates Lucy for a while, mostly because he's pretty sure that's how the story's supposed to end. Guy gets girl. Simple. Easy. Uncomplicated. Except that it's not, and Matt's always scared to touch her in case McClane makes good on his promise to beat him to death, so Lucy usually has to go on top.
One time, when they're done and Matt's still kind of buzzed, their bodies damp as they lay together on Lucy's single bed in Lucy's dorm room, she leans over to the nightstand and picks up a short piece of black ribbon, tying it snugly around Matt's right wrist. She doesn't tie it in a bow or anything, just secures it there. It seems like a strange thing to do.
"You can take that off when you get your balls back," she says. Matt gazes down at his balls absently and then back at Lucy. He doesn't get it. "I think we should break up," Lucy adds.
Matt wonders if this is a test. He wonders if he's supposed to fight for her and prove his worth. Except that he doesn't want to fight for her and he's pretty sure she knows it. The thing that would take the most balls right now would be for him to admit that, for him to make it real. He wants to tell her that it's not her fault, that she did nothing wrong, that he's just not in the right place, or that he doesn't feel the right thing, or that maybe they should be friends instead. But he doesn't say any of it. Instead, he just nods. He guesses he won't be taking that ribbon off anytime soon.
Lucy gives him a strange look then, the tiniest smile tugging at the corners of her lips, her brow creased in confusion. She looks kind of like McClane and Matt almost kisses her.
"Will you do me a favour?" she asks. It comes out more relaxed than it should for two people who were currently naked, post-coital and broken up.
"Sure," Matt says, feeling his throat tighten slightly around the word.
"My dad doesn't really have any friends," Lucy says. It's both the best and worst thing she could ask of him.
They go for a drink. Matt doesn't know why McClane agrees to it so easily, but he expects it to be about Lucy. He waits for McClane to bring it up, to give him hell, but McClane just orders a couple of beers and tells Matt he's paying. Matt obliges, settling himself in a booth opposite McClane and wondering what the hell they're supposed to talk about. McClane just sips his beer and looks content with the silence until Matt cracks.
"Lucy and I broke up," he offers, needing to have it out of the way.
"Yeah, she told me," McClane says easily. He looks like he's perfectly okay with it, but Matt knows that can't be true.
"Didn't you say you'd beat me to death if I was with your daughter?" Matt asks. He feels kind of like he's poking a sleeping bear with a stick.
"Yes," McClane responds tightly. "But you're not with my daughter."
"Right," Matt agrees, but it's still not making a whole lot of sense to him. "Isn't this kind of worse?"
"Do you want me to beat you to death?" McClane asks.
"No," Matt responds quickly.
"Because I can do that," McClane assures him.
Matt shakes his head. "I'm good."
"Then how about we change the subject?" McClane suggests. "How's the job?"
Matt smiles, looking down at the table. "It's okay. Nothing I can't handle."
"But..." McClane prompts, sensing there's more. Matt gives a small laugh.
"They all hate me," Matt says. "I mean, not that I care. It's just, I'm the enemy, right? And I work for the government. I work for the government. I think they might be crazy. Or I might be crazy. I can't believe they even let me in that building. I can't believe I agree to go in. Warlock doesn't talk to me now that I've 'switched sides'. But he's just sulking. He'll come around."
McClane give a small nod. "Bowman treat you alright?" The question sounds almost protective, but Matt shrugs it off.
"Yeah, he's pretty cool," he says. "He has some kind of begrudging respect for me or something. Which is mutual. I think he'd rather have me on side than not. And I'd rather he didn't look on my hard drive, so, win-win." Matt takes a swig of his beer and tries to ignore the way that McClane's looking at him like he's trying to work something out. "How's work for you?" Matt asks, trying to deflect him.
"Same shit, different day," McClane shrugs, looking like he could care less. Matt nods and they're back to having nothing to talk about. It doesn't feel nearly as uncomfortable as it did to begin with though.
The next time they meet, it's for burgers during their lunch hour. Once again, McClane doesn't say much, just concentrates his attention on eating his food and chugging his soda. It makes Matt nervous, because he doesn't know if he's allowed to talk either. He doesn't know if he's just a nerdy little pain in McClane's ass. He kind of feels like a loser whenever he's in McClane's presence.
Halfway through the meal, McClane reaches across the table and touches the end of the ribbon on Matt's wrist, giving a little tug. "Hey, what's with this?"
Matt jerks his hand away and slides it under the table, out of sight. "Oh, that. No, that's, um, that's nothing." McClane raises his eyebrows and Matt shakes his head in what he hopes is a breezy, dismissive fashion. He knows it isn't. "It's just something Lucy..." He stops. That's a road he really doesn't want to go down.
"It's just something Lucy what?" McClane prompts.
"She thought it looked cute," Matt shrugs. It's about as far from the truth as he can get.
"Why do you care if she thinks you look cute anymore?" McClane probes.
"I don't," Matt insists. "I just thought that maybe someone else would think it made me look cute too."
"It looks stupid," McClane says plainly, shoving a handful of fries in his mouth.
Matt looks down at it and nods. "Yeah, I know."
"Work was hell today," McClane grumbles as he sits down heavily across from Matt and shrugs off his jacket.
"Yeah?" Matt asks, because he doesn't really know what else to say. Okay, maybe McClane just wants someone to vent to, but it's the first time he's started a conversation like that right off the bat, and Matt's a little thrown.
"Hostage situation at a drug store downtown," McClane says by way of explanation, picking up the menu to the Chinese place Matt had recommended and looking it over. "What's good?"
"It's all good," Matt shrugs. "Was anyone hurt?"
"One guy got a gunshot wound in the leg, but he'll live," McClane say easily, like it was no big deal. "The sesame chicken good?"
"I guess," Matt says, distracted by McClane's story. "So, what happened?"
McClane looks at him for what seems like the first time. "We saved the day," he says, but his voice is downbeat, like he just got the shit kicked out of him. It makes Matt sad to hear him talk like that.
"Why aren't you happy?" he asks.
McClane looks at him for the longest time. He doesn't respond before the waiter comes to take their order, and then the question is lost.
Subject: Long time, no speak...
Hey, Farrell. That ribbon starting to chafe yet? ;)
Seriously, listen, thanks for hanging out with my dad. I think it's doing him some good. He really needs to get out more. I'm sure the same can be said of you. Speaking of which, wanna take me out for a drink sometime? You know you do. Goddamn e-mail me, okay?
Matt gets to the bar first. It's packed with students and he kind of wants to crawl into a hole. They all seem so immature to him now, even if he's not that far out of college himself. He guesses it's all to do with perspective.
He's on his second beer by the time Lucy gets there. He tries to give her an unimpressed look, but she just beams at him, hugging him enthusiastically and managing to hit him around the head with her purse.
"I'll have a lime and lemonade," she tells him. Matt sighs, but dutifully gets her drink in for her.
Nowhere in the bar is quiet, but sitting away from the jukebox helps a little. Lucy talks about boys on her course and cute pairs of shoes and Matt's kind of losing the will to live when the subject of McClane finally comes around.
"How do you think he's doing?" Matt asks. "I mean, really."
"I dunno, he seems fine," Lucy shrugs, taking a sip of her drink. Matt wonders if McClane's different around her. It wouldn't surprise him. He wonders which one of them that means he trusts.
"He seems a little downbeat sometimes," Matt ventures.
"Huh," Lucy says. "He can be grumpy sometimes, but that's just dad. You know what he's like."
"Yeah," Matt agrees, wondering if he should just drop it. "You think he likes his job?"
"His job's his life, Matt," Lucy says, with a slight roll of her eyes, like he's an idiot.
"I think it gets to him sometimes," Matt says.
"Sure it does," Lucy agrees. "He's still human. But he's also John McClane. He always picks himself up." Matt nods, trying very hard to believe that. "Just be his friend," Lucy tells him. "He'd never admit it in a million years, but he kind of needs someone around. A constant. You know what I mean?"
"Sure," Matt says, but he isn't sure at all. He's very far away from sure. The line started to blur somewhere and he's only now realising it. He doesn't know what he is to McClane, but he knows that if McClane needs someone around, Matt wants it to be him. Whatever that means.
A few days later, he finds himself waiting in a bar for the other McClane in his life. John leaves him waiting even longer than Lucy did, and Matt knows he can't be doing his hair, so he finally makes his way outside and gives him a call. He's just about to give up when McClane finally answers.
"Yeah?" The single word manages to be both curt and accusing.
"Hey, it's Matt. Just wondering where you are, man. Beginning to think I'd been stood up."
"Didn't realise we had a date, kid," McClane says gruffly. It's clear he's not in the mood.
"What's wrong?" Matt asks.
"Rough day at the office," McClane says testily.
"You okay?" Matt asks, trying not to sound too concerned. That would probably make McClane hang up.
"Just great," McClane responds, his words soaked in sarcasm. Matt hears a tap running and then McClane hisses slightly.
"McClane," Matt says sternly. There's no response. "Okay, I'm coming over."
"Kid, leave it alone," McClane warns him.
"I'll be there in, like, ten minutes," Matt promises, hanging up the phone before McClane can object.
Matt's only been to McClane's place once before, and that was with Lucy, but he has no trouble finding it. He presses the bell and McClane doesn't bother to ask who it is, just buzzes him straight in. Matt feels something heavy in his stomach as he rides the elevator up, worried over what he'll find.
When McClane opens the door, there's a blood-soaked wad of something not very clean looking pressed against his temple. "Jesus," Matt exclaims, reaching out before he can stop himself. "What happened?"
"Bad guy," McClane says, making it clear he's not about to elaborate. He swats Matt's hand away and heads inside, not waiting to see if Matt's going follow him. Matt does follow, standing awkwardly in the bathroom doorway as McClane sits down on the side of the bath. Matt wants to ask what happened, wants to know who the hell did this to him, but he knows that now's not the time.
"Can I see?" he asks instead. McClane sighs but gives a small movement that looks enough like a shrug that Matt moves forward.
Right on McClane's temple there's a gash, maybe an inch long, that makes Matt's knees go weak. It's not that it really looks that bad, though it definitely doesn't look good, but Matt just really doesn't like seeing it, ugly and real, on McClane's skin. It's still bleeding.
"Sexy," Matt says dryly. McClane actually smiles, clearly getting the reference, and that makes Matt smile too. It eases the tension for a second, but it doesn't really make Matt feel any better about the cut. "You need to go to the hospital," Matt tells him.
"I got Band-Aids and shit here," McClane replies.
"I think you might stitches," Matt says, pressing the cloth back against McClane's head.
"It's fine," McClane dismisses.
"How long has it been bleeding like this?" Matt asks.
"It'll stop," McClane says simply.
"Okay," Matt agrees, because he doesn't really have a choice. McClane doesn't try to take the rag back off him and Matt's not sure quite what it means that McClane's letting him play nursemaid, but he's grateful. Maybe this is just one of those times when McClane needs someone. Matt's never felt so happy to be someone.
He looks down at McClane and he wonders at how he can manage to not look vulnerable as he sits there, bleeding. Matt still feels like the weak one when he's in a room with McClane, even now. He's struck with the urge to straddle him, to feel strong, warm thighs under his, and he wonders where the hell that came from. Still, it's not as entirely out of left field as it should be. Matt used to think that he was jealous of McClane's body, but now he thinks that he's been admiring it in another way. He thinks that maybe he'd like to touch it rather than replicate it.
Matt takes a breath and looks away, because if he gets hard right now, it's gonna be pretty damn obvious to McClane. "So, erm, weren't there any paramedics at the scene?" he asks to distract himself. And maybe to keep McClane conscious too. "Or other cops?" he adds. "Someone to make you get some medical help."
"I kind of ducked out," McClane admits. "My shift was done."
"Oh, so it's okay to die on your own time?" Matt counters, but he instantly regrets it. The look on McClane's face tells him that maybe he thinks it is. Matt lifts the cloth from McClane's head slightly, looking for a new distraction. Maybe it's in his mind, but the bleeding seems to have slowed a little. He replaces it and adds more pressure. "I used to hate cops," Matt says. "Really hate them."
"I used to hate hackers," McClane counters.
"And people over thirty," Matt says. "I thought they were as good as dead."
"I thought people under thirty were a waste of space," McClane agrees.
Matt smiles. "You kind of changed my mind."
"I still think hackers and people under thirty are a waste of space," McClane says. The smile in his voice is practically unnoticeable, but Matt can hear it straining through.
"Man, you're impossible," he says. "I'm trying to cheer you up."
"By telling me I'm your hero?" McClane asks, like he's heard it all before and it doesn't mean shit. There's absolutely no smile now.
"For the record, I prefer having a beer with you than watching you kill people on my behalf," Matt tells him. His voice is more bitter than he expects and he kind of wonders were it came from. McClane is silent and Matt sighs. "I'm not telling you that you're my hero," Matt says. "And if you hate your job so fucking much, why don't you just leave? And don't you dare tell me that there's no one else to do it. I don't buy that bullshit. Tell me the truth."
"It's what I do," McClane says. His voice is both resigned and determined and Matt can't work that out. He lifts the cloth from McClane's head again and the bleeding has almost stopped.
"Where are the Band-Aids?" Matt asks.
"Cabinet," McClane says, letting Matt work it out and staying obediently still while Matt cleans the wound a little, dabs it dry, and sticks the Band-Aid in place.
"Good as new," he says. They both know it's not true.
"Hey, Farrell, you got a phone call on line two," one of his colleagues shouts at him across the office. Matt reaches over, picking it up.
"You busy tonight?"
Matt smiles. He doesn't need to ask who it is. "I could clear a window."
"Don't pretend you've got a life, kid," McClane tells him, but there's a fondness in his voice. It does something to Matt and he wonders at the wisdom of meeting up with someone he's maybe developed a tiny crush on. He knows he's not about to decline though.
"Okay, so, what're you thinking?" Matt asks.
"Dinner?" McClane suggests. "That Chinese place?"
"It's a date," Matt says, before he can stop himself. He cringes, glad that he can't see McClane's face right now.
"Can you get there for seven?" McClane asks, either not hearing his last comment or glossing over it.
"Yeah, I can do that," Matt agrees quickly.
"Then I'll see you tonight, kid," McClane says, before Matt's left with the dial tone.
They haven't seen each other since the night at McClane's apartment. The cut still looks fresh and Matt tries really hard not to look at it. McClane seems in good spirits, seems happier than he has in weeks, so Matt concentrates on that instead. Right after they order, McClane unceremoniously tosses a small, brown paper bag on the table between them.
"I got you something."
Matt eyes it. "Like a present?"
McClane just shrugs and nods his head towards it, a clear invitation. Matt reaches for the bag and looks inside, lifting out a black, leather wrist cuff.
"Thought it might compliment that girly ribbon you wear," McClane says, like he's having a joke at Matt's expense, but Matt can see something sincere in his eyes. Matt puts it on his wrist, below the ribbon, and looks at the two things next to each other. "Just something to say thanks," McClane adds, looking across the restaurant like he's not even talking to Matt.
"For what?" Matt asks, touching the leather absently with his left hand while he watches McClane.
"I know I'm an asshole," McClane says, looking back at him.
"I don't think you're an asshole," Matt says, shaking his head.
"I'm not easy to get along with," McClane continues. "Most people don't try. And I pretty much like it that way. And then you went and yelled at me."
"I didn't yell," Matt says, feeling slightly embarrassed. McClane gives him an amused smile.
"You're the only person who talks to me like that, besides Lucy."
"Talks to you like what?" Matt asks, finding it hard to follow McClane's thread.
"Like I'm an asshole," McClane says simply. Matt's about to object, but McClane steps in. "Like you wish I'd step up and take some goddamn care of myself." Matt smiles slightly. McClane has him there. "So, thanks," McClane says offhandedly. "For calling me on my shit. I need that sometimes."
"Yeah, no kidding," Matt mutters.
"Don't push your luck," McClane warns him, but there's a smile in his eyes again.
"You didn't have to buy me a present," Matt tells him.
"I figure I owe you one for putting up with me this long," McClane says, looking around the restaurant again. "I would've got you something for your computer, but..." He gives a shrug. That sentence really doesn't need finishing.
"No, this is great," Matt insists, looking down at the cuff as it sits beside the ribbon that Lucy put there. It's kind of like the strongest and weakest parts of him side by side.
Matt knows better than to expect any huge sweeping changes from McClane, but he's promised to try and be less of a grouchy bastard and to enjoy life a little more. Matt kind of loves that he had a part in that. He can tell the difference too. He's less stand-offish and, when he talks about work, he sounds a little less disillusioned. Matt knows that that's the hardest part for him. Matt knows that, in a lot of ways, McClane really would like to turn his back on the whole thing. He also knows, just as surely, that he never could.
Matt thinks that he might be the perfect amount of drunk when he asks McClane back to his place. He thinks that McClane might be the perfect amount of drunk when he accepts. It's nothing but platonic. Two buddies hanging out after a few drinks at a bar. Except that Matt's thoughts about McClane are getting less and less platonic each time they meet up.
"You want another beer?" Matt asks as they come through the door.
"No, I'm good," McClane replies, looking around. It makes Matt feel a little too exposed.
"You want something to eat?" he offers. McClane just shakes his head.
"This place isn't bad."
"Yeah, well, my super-secret job pays pretty well," Matt tells him. He watches McClane for a moment. It's something he finds himself doing more and more often. "Hey, I saw something when I was at the store the other day," he says, trying to snap himself out of it. "Thought maybe I should buy it for you."
"Oh, yeah?" McClane asks, raising his eyebrows. Matt can't help but smile.
"Wait here." He retrieves the small box from the bathroom and comes back through, tossing it at McClane whose catlike instincts mean he catches it effortlessly.
"Disney Band-Aids?" McClane asks, looking the box over.
"You seem to get banged up a lot," Matt shrugs. "Thought they might come in handy."
He can't read McClane's expression as he stares at the box, or when he tears into it, looking through the designs. He finally stops at one and opens the wrapping before peeling off the back and sticking a blue Mickey Mouse Band-Aid onto his cheek. He looks at Matt.
"Does is suit me?"
Matt busts out laughing at the complete ludicrousness of the scene in front of him. The fact that McClane's so game makes Matt's heart swell a little. So does the smile that McClane sends his way. They're definitely the perfect amount of drunk.
"You need one," McClane tells him, moving forward as he shuffles through the Band-Aids. "This is the one," he says, a foot away from Matt. He holds a pink one up. "You can be Minnie."
"Why do I have to be Minnie?" Matt complains.
"Because you wear a ribbon on your wrist," McClane replies, preparing the Band-Aid.
"I wear leather too," Matt counters.
"Only because of me," McClane says, looking him right in the eye, and Matt can feel his lips part. McClane presses the Band-Aid against his cheek and smoothes over it with his thumb. It feels too intimate and Matt's cock stirs slightly as he breathes McClane in. He doesn't mean to, it just kind of happens. So does the kiss.
Matt's kind of embarrassed by how goddamn needy he is as he crushes his mouth against McClane's, grabbing fistfuls of his jacket and pulling him close. McClane lets him, encourages him, Matt thinks, and then he's kissing him back, and everything is so real that it hurts. It's kind of a dizzy blur to Matt, the hot swipe of tongues, the bruising hands, the way his body responds so effortlessly to McClane's. He's taken over by it, only vaguely aware of stripping off McClane's jacket and shoving a hand down his pants. When his fingers close around McClane's cock, he's the one who moans.
McClane's half-hard and so hot against Matt's palm. Matt strokes him, feeling him grow and stiffen, feeling his own cock tighten in response. It's almost too much and he grinds himself against McClane's hip, hearing a low growl rumble from McClane's chest to his own. He feels like he could almost come from that alone. He realises too late that he's biting McClane's lip and not his own.
Matt pushes back, forcing a little space between them as he clumsily tears into McClane's pants. He drops down to his knees, not feeling the pain that he knows should be there as he thuds onto the floor. He licks his lips as he works McClane's pants and underwear down, revealing his now fully hard cock. Matt just looks for a moment, feeling a shudder of lust roll through him at how fucking beautiful it is. He raises his gaze slowly up McClane's body, meeting his dark eyes.
"Is this okay?"
"Little late to be asking that question isn't it, kid?"
Matt falters, but then McClane reaches down and slides a hand into Matt's hair, tugging at the strands gently. It's demanding and reassuring all at once, not to mention so goddamn hot that Matt's pretty sure he'll do anything for McClane right now. He kind of hopes that's not written across his face.
"This is perfect," McClane assures him.
Perfect Matt repeats in his head, and then he guides McClane's cock between his lips.
Matt closes his eyes and savours it; the feel, the taste, the smell. It's all so masculine, so absolutely McClane, and Matt can feel himself coming apart at the seams in the most wonderful way. He takes McClane in as deep as he can and then slides back, sucking on the head and feeling McClane's grip tighten in his hair. He lets himself look, taking in the sight of McClane with his head thrown back and his mouth hanging open, and then he clamps his eyes shut again. There's no way he can watch that and not fist himself all over the floor.
Matt starts to bob up and down McClane's length, making educated guesses at where McClane will be most sensitive and taking great pride when he gets it right, McClane letting him know with either a deep moan or a twist of his hair. Both spur Matt on and make him even more eager. As Matt tongues the underside of McClane's cock and licks wetly around the head, he can taste just how close he is, the drops of precome sharp and salty.
Matt sucks a little harder, uses his tongue a little more insistently, realising that he somehow needs McClane's orgasm just as much as McClane does. His hands are on McClane's hips, but he doesn't try to stop his thrusts. Instead, he uses them to his advantage, concentrating more on technique and letting McClane take care of the majority of the movement. It's like teamwork. He trusts McClane not to give him anything he can't handle, even now as his lust runs over and Matt can tell he's on the brink of coming.
When Matt tongues the slit of his cock and then takes him in deep and swallows around him, McClane loses it all together, spilling down Matt throats as Matt continues to swallow, ready and willing to take every last drop. McClane's hand tightens painfully in Matt's hair and he makes a series of deep, out of control noises that centre firmly in Matt's own swollen dick. He grips McClane's hips and rides it out with him, not pulling back until McClane stills and he can hear nothing but ragged breathing.
As Matt looks up, McClane slides his hand from his hair down to his cheek, touching the Band-Aid and the flesh around it. "Jesus, kid," he mutters, and then he drops down to his knees and claims Matt's mouth.
They're both too breathless to kiss as completely as they had before, settling instead for touching each other wherever they can and joining their mouths in a series of broken kisses as they breathe the same air. McClane reaches forward, fumbling with Matt's pants, and Matt loves that he's gotten McClane to the point where he's fumbling. The button and zipper of Matt's jeans don't slow him down much though, and his hand is soon grasped around Matt's rock hard cock, pulling him out into the open. Matt whines at the contact, feeling himself far too close to the edge as McClane starts to stroke him firmly, and he thinks this is all going to be over before it even starts.
"Wait," he pants. "Wait."
"What?" McClane asks, pulling back and looking concerned.
"Can we slow down a little?" Matt asks, even as he wants nothing more than to fall into McClane and hand himself over right now. "So I can enjoy it a little before I embarrass myself?"
McClane smiles and pulls Matt closer, holding his dick as he kisses him again, licking his way inside his mouth. He does that for a while, his hand warm and solid around Matt's cock and his lips and tongue coaxing him open, like they're only just getting started. Matt lets himself enjoy it, holding onto every tiny shiver of sensation that McClane gives him. It's not long before he has to stop kissing McClane though, before he's burying his face in McClane's neck and muttering incoherently. McClane's hand is sure and steady, building the beautiful tension up inside Matt's body, and Matt can't ever remember being touched like this. He can't remember ever feeling like this.
He's not really aware of moving any closer to McClane, but he's practically in his lap by the time he can feel himself right there on the edge again, sure that he's going to fall this time. He sucks on McClane's neck as McClane speeds up his pace, jerking Matt hard now as though he's feeding off Matt's own desperation. Matt can feel it upon him, feel it tingling down his spine as his balls draw up towards his body, and then he's gone, trying not to bite as his orgasm rushes through him like the blood that thunders through his veins, making his entire body flush with heat and pleasure. McClane strokes him through it, wringing every lost drop from him and then continuing to caress him until he's completely soft.
Matt raises his head slowly, his damp bangs falling into his eyes, and looks at McClane for a moment, his mind still swimming. He sways forward, clumsily aiming for McClane's mouth, but misses and hits his jaw instead. He keeps trying, his hands running over the fabric of McClane's shirt as their mouths finally find each other and mould together. Matt pulls back, tugging at McClane's shirt, somehow still needing more. His desperation has faded, but his need to be impossibly closer to McClane seems to be still very much intact. He's not sure what that means, but he knows he doesn't want it to stop anytime soon.
"Want to see you naked," Matt says, pulling McClane's shirt over his head.
McClane smirks. "Oh, now you want to see me naked?"
"Yeah," Matt says simply, levelling his eyes at McClane. "Now I want to see you naked."
McClane nods, suddenly serious, and helps Matt strip off the wifebeater he wears below his shirt. Matt runs his hands over the new found flesh, feeling the heat of it searing his palms as the muscles shift slightly to his attention. His cock gives a redundant throb as he takes it all in. He leans down, skimming his mouth over McClane's neck, his collarbone, his chest, nipples, stomach. It feels so good that he can't help flicking his tongue out for a taste. He's salty and earthy and real.
McClane grabs his shoulders and pulls him back up, kissing him shortly before pushing his shirt back off his shoulders. "You turn," he says darkly, Matt willingly lifting his arms in the air as McClane strips off his T-shirt. McClane's hands run possessively over his body, pulling him in closer until they're kissing and touching and continuing to undress each other until they're completely naked on Matt's floor.
"Want you," Matt breathes.
"Just had me," McClane says. He sounds kind of like he's done, but Matt feels like he's just getting warmed up again.
"I've got some stuff," Matt says. McClane pulls back to look at his face.
"Condoms," Matt says. "Lube."
McClane smiles. It's a fond smile, but it's amused all the same, like Matt's just said something really funny. "Might have to give me a while, kid," he says, leaning back down to nuzzle Matt's neck. "Not as young as I used to be. How about we just..."
"You know how to get me ready?" Matt cuts in.
McClane pulls back again, looking more serious now. "I got an idea."
Matt nods, not sure if he's encouraging McClane or himself. "Will you?"
McClane looks at him for a moment and Matt can't read his expression. "You got me," he says. "I'm not going to leave if you don't seal the deal."
Matt laughs. "Yeah, I know," he says, not realising until that moment that he does. This feels so right, such a natural progression, that Matt hadn't thought to question it from that moment he fell down on his knees in front of McClane. "You just make me hot," Matt finishes.
McClane smiles. "Well, in that case..." He leans down, kissing Matt quick and deep. "Might have to be patient while my body catches up."
Matt shrugs. "I can do that. If you keep me busy."
They make their way through to the bedroom and Matt hands McClane the lube and condoms before laying back on the bed, legs spread, waiting. McClane looks at him and takes a breath, like he can't quite think straight when he looks at Matt like that. Matt kind of loves garnering that response from him. Then McClane moves forward, covering Matt's body with his own and kissing him slowly, a maddening tease of brushing lips and flicks of tongue before he finally, agonisingly, slides his tongue hot and wet over Matt's. Just that alone makes Matt's cock start to take notice again.
McClane kisses him for a long time and Matt starts to forget that they're even supposed to be doing anything else. By the time McClane pulls away and reaches for the lube, Matt's half-hard and fuzzy headed all over again and he just wants McClane to be touching him, wants to feel the certainty of McClane's body against his own. He just wants them to share this, and then he wants to never let go.
McClane's hand is sure as he finds Matt's entrance and eases a slick finger inside. Matt kind of wants to ask him if he's done this before, but he doesn't want to ruin the spell. Instead, he leans back heavily on the pillows and watches McClane's face, a look of adorable concentration there. It feels good, McClane effortlessly touching places that haven't been touched in so long. Matt hums and then groans and then smiles at the smile that McClane sends his way. It all feels so easy.
As McClane pushes two fingers inside, Matt feels the stretch, a warmth settling over him, and he's all but gone, just like that. He finds it a little harder to breathe as McClane works him slowly, so fucking slowly, open. His hips rock and tiny, contented noises escape him and all he can see is McClane.
"McClane... John... Shit," he mutters brokenly, not having a clue what he's trying to say, but feeling the need to say it anyway.
He's hard and leaking before he even knows it and he silently begs for McClane to be ready soon too. McClane's fingers become the sweetest kind of torture, touching him in all the right places, but remaining nothing more than a promise. When McClane pushes three fingers inside him, making Matt hiss at the fullness, he once again covers Matt's body with his own, making Matt feel like he's suffocating, drowning in McClane. He almost can't imagine anything better. He reaches down, closing his fingers around McClane's cock, finding it hard and ready.
"Please," he begs.
McClane nods, licking a line along Matt's jaw, and then he sits up and takes his fingers out of Matt all at once, leaving him feeling completely bereft of sensation. He watches as McClane rolls on a condom and pours some lube into his hand, slicking it over his cock, the pleasure of it fluttering over his face. Matt sits up, reaching out and forcing McClane's hand out of the way, replacing it with his own. His hand slides fluidly over the length, making his own cock jump slightly. McClane keeps his dark eyes trained on Matt's hand, watching the simple up and down motion, before he finally forces him back down to the bed. Their eyes meet and Matt thinks that he might go crazy if they don't get on with this soon.
McClane lifts Matt's legs a little higher, a little further apart, and Matt raises his hips up for him, his toes curling in anticipation. When McClane finally drives inside him, Matt's breath gets caught in his throat and his whole body stutters with pleasure. McClane's cock goes even deeper than his fingers did and Matt swears that he can feel him right down to the core. McClane stills there, buried deep inside him, and Matt can feel himself opened up so firmly, feel that undeniable physical connection that seems to tether him to McClane and sum up so many things that have been building between them but that he couldn't begin to name, even now.
Matt wraps his legs around McClane's hips and grips his shoulders, pulling him closer, but McClane still doesn't move, so Matt thrusts his own hips, feeling it all the way up his spine. He takes a sharp breath before doing it again, McClane finally joining in. He moves slowly at first, smooth rocking movements that caress Matt's insides and ease him further open.
Matt's hands slide over McClane's flesh, his lips trailing wherever he can reach, and they fall into some kind of rhythm that steadily builds upon itself until their hips are snapping together and McClane is pushing harshly inside of Matt's body, making him feel every second of it. Matt just gives back as good as he gets, moaning and writhing and scratching at McClane's back. He almost can't believe that he's back to this point again so soon, that he's right there on the edge, ready to fall. He doesn't fight it for a second, reaching down between their tightly fitted bodies and wrapping his fingers around his own cock, jerking himself off and throwing his head back as he lets the pleasure well up inside him, ready for release.
He's almost there when McClane's teeth attack his neck and his hand closes viciously over Matt's on his cock, squeezing tightly and forcing his orgasm from him as his eyes go wide, but he sees nothing but bright colours and sparks as he comes hard. He feels himself clench and then McClane's following him there, growling into his skin as the world starts to return to Matt and he stares up at the ceiling, spaced out and wasted and happier than he remembers being in a long time.
Matt's eyes close with exhaustion and contentedness as McClane moves off him. He hears the snap of the condom and feels the bed shifting and then McClane's right back there, hovering over him, touching his cheek. Suddenly, Matt feels a ripping pain as McClane tears the Band-Aid off his cheek without warning.
"Fuck," he complains, opening his eyes to glare at McClane.
"Gotta do it quick," McClane shrugs, taking care of his own. He leans down and kisses the undoubtedly red mark on Matt's cheek, and Matt almost forgives him. "Nice present, kid," he whispers.
"You're welcome," Matt mutters, letting his eyes fall closed once more.
Matt wakes up with light streaming through the blinds that he never closed and McClane's heavy arm wrapped around him. His back is pressed up against McClane's front and he feels so warm and comfortable that he never wants to leave this bed.
Matt usually hates morning afters. He likes his own space, likes to keep people at a reasonable distance. He has a feeling that McClane feels the same.
He shifts himself closer, feeling flesh pressing warmly against flesh, both of them slightly damp where their bodies join. It feels nice. He traces his fingers over McClane's arm and feels McClane stir beside him.
"You got plans today?" he asks after a moment, his voice heavy with sleep.
"No," Matt says simply, moving his fingertips to draw patterns on the back of McClane's hand that lays across his stomach.
"Me either," McClane replies, holding Matt a little tighter.
Subject: (No Subject)
I spent the day with Lucy yesterday. She set me up with one of these e-mail things, so you can talk to me with that computer of yours now, not that I'll ever understand why you'd want to. You totally owe me something old school in return now.
Today, at work, you know how I injured myself? Paper cut. All the shit I do and I bled over my desk from a goddamn bastard of a paper cut. If there's a God, he's got a funny sense of humour. Anyway, I put a Goofy Band-Aid on it and it seems to have solved the problem.
If I manage to send this without blowing up the computer, I think it'll be a miracle.
When Matt leaves work on Monday afternoon, he sees Lucy sitting on the steps to his building. Her back is to him, so he thinks he can maybe get away with it, but it's not worth the hassle, so he just goes up to her.
"Hey," he says. She looks up at him and smiles. "What are you doing here?"
"Came to see you," she replies, tapping the space beside her on the step. Matt sits. "I saw my dad yesterday." Matt waits, but she doesn't say anything else.
"Yeah?" he prompts.
"He seemed really happy," Lucy says. Matt can't help but smile proudly. He ducks his head, trying to hide it. Lucy unzips her purse and digs out a Swiss army knife. Of course Lucy McClane carries around a Swiss army knife in her purse. "I just have one question," she says, flipping out the largest blade. Matt stares at it, wondering where the hell this is going. "Who made the first move?" Lucy asks.
Matt meets her eyes and tries to play dumb, wondering just how much McClane told her. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't bullshit me," Lucy says impatiently. "You're a horrible liar."
Matt rolls his eyes and gives a shrug. "Me, I guess." Lucy smiles, but then she reaches out, grabbing Matt's right hand and pulling it towards her. "What are you doing?" Matt asks, panicked. Lucy doesn't reply, she simply hooks the knife under the ribbon she tied there and cuts it neatly off. Matt watches as it flutters to the steps beneath them. "Oh."
"You sure take your time, Farrell," Lucy says sadly, shaking her head at him as she folds her knife away.
"That's what that stupid ribbon was about?" Matt asks incredulously.
"Men are so slow," she says, standing up. "You hungry?"
"Sure," Matt replies, getting to his feet.
"Good," Lucy smiles. "You're paying."
"I think it's your turn," Matt corrects, falling in step beside her. Lucy looks impressed and Matt thinks he might be able to work these McClanes out yet.