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For as long as Siebren had known Harold, he’d been a union man. Siebren had, some months ago, encouraged him to put himself forward as one of Petras College’s union reps for their science faculty, a position which he’d ultimately been awarded. Tonight was the first faculty staff meeting that they would attend together. Siebren had long attended these wider faculty meetings as the postgraduate coordinator, but as the workplace union rep, Harold got a seat at the table now too. He was there to report back on the state of affairs in their faculty based on feedback he’d heard from the union members. As was terribly common in academia at large, things had been far from ideal. Siebren knew that Harold felt deeply passionate about helping to solve those issues. He just didn’t quite know how profoundly that passion translated to spoken argument.
Siebren was a professional. He was an absolute professional when it came to his own job, and he would extend that courtesy and poise to Harold’s work too.
But good lord, was that man making it difficult.
Harold was fiery and composed all at once. He didn’t pull a single punch, and yet Siebren was sure that the higher ups in the room didn’t realise it. Siebren knew, though. He knew that Harold was at his critical and scathing best, wrapped up in a competent and charming enough package that management wasn’t quite sure what had hit it.
Siebren also thought that Harold had, quite frankly, never been hotter.
He was very glad that he had presented his small piece on the postgraduate situation before Harold had begun his address. He would have been rather useless after it, finding he only had the wherewithal to glance back and forth between his passionately gesturing partner and the bewildered bosses. Sometimes he even had to do that behind his hand. Was he red? He might have been red.
There was a small pang of guilt in Siebren’s gut that he was taking this rant about the ever-increasing demands and workloads of his colleagues in the way that he was, but he absolutely could not help it. And in fairness, they were also demands on him and his work, so it wasn’t as if he was having a moment over somebody else’s fight. He was a union member too, and he had absolute faith in Harold’s ability to continue doing the work needed to push for better conditions for the whole faculty.
But that change wouldn’t happen tonight. Siebren’s mind was wholly occupied by other things that could happen that night by the time Harold’s speech ended, and the meeting wound to a close.
Siebren was never one to hang back very long after these meetings, but he usually made some brief small talk before departing. Today, though, he couldn’t quite manage it. He needed some air. Harold caught his gaze across the meeting room table, and Siebren gave him a glance before pushing himself from his chair and heading straight for the door. Harold’s eyebrows dipped for just a moment, and he stood from his own seat only to be caught in conversation with one of the other faculty members. He made the conversation as brief as he could while staying polite, making his apologies before he left. His eyes searched his surroundings as he wandered out of the building.
“Sieb?” he called out, still not sighting his partner. At his name, though, Siebren popped his head out from the other side of a pillar, against which he’d been leaning and trying to compose himself. It was only as he approached and saw Siebren’s face under the fluorescent lights on the outside of the building that Harold noticed how red he had gone. “Hey, are you alright?”
Siebren gave a quick glance around the empty courtyard, then reached out to grab Harold’s arm, pulling him in close. Harold didn’t even have time to query it before both of Siebren’s hands were on his jaw, and he was leaning in to kiss him, vehement and needy. Harold’s hands slid easily to Siebren’s waist, and he leant up into the unexpected but entirely welcome kiss.
Siebren only pulled back to grab one of Harold’s hands, immediately beginning to walk the path that would take them back home. Harold, who was already completely down for whatever was going on, took a moment to laugh before he spoke.
“Sieb, what are you –?”
“You know, you’re very eloquent,” Siebren said in a huff, “and assertive, and – and so…” Siebren’s voice trailed off into a little indecipherable groan, and he squeezed Harold’s hand as he strode ahead of him. Harold didn’t complain, doing his best to keep pace with the taller man as realisation and self-satisfaction swept over his face.
“Holy shit, you’re – you’re really hot for me right now, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone probing and cheeky. He pulled Siebren into step with him, mostly so he could croon at him even closer, his voice a low purr. “You’re not hard, are you?”
Siebren just kept walking, barely acknowledging the words that Harold was teasing him with. There wasn’t anything visible at his groin, but Harold knew very well that the underwear Siebren preferred was capable of keeping him largely in check under trousers. A lack of tenting really didn’t mean much.
“Can you focus less on talking and more on walking, please?” Siebren asked, his voice notably strangled. “You have such short legs.” Harold pursed his lips briefly, giving a little tilt of his head.
“That’s funny, because you don’t have any complaints about my legs when my ankles are up at your ears,” he replied. Siebren just about took Harold’s arm out of its socket with the speed he continued at. Harold kept a firm hold of his hand as he briefly jogged to keep up.
“You drive me mad, you know that?” Siebren hissed, and he likely would have seemed angry out of context. Harold had that context, though, and it was turning over and over inside of his head. How long had Siebren been working himself up like this? Was there something in particular that got him this hot? What did Siebren want to do to him? In the midst of the hypotheticals, Harold found himself losing the means to tease. Siebren was so tightly wound beside him, all tense and determined. His mind was swimming with what might happen as soon as they got in the door – emphasis on as soon as. Even so, Harold managed to breathe out a quick fact.
“You know that bag I took with us on that weekend away?” Harold asked, his own voice a little tense with the anticipation. “It’s still on the coat rack.” Siebren had the briefest flash of confusion as to why Harold would be highlighting one of the tasks he’d put off around the house, but then realisation washed over him so promptly that it almost winded him. He had no more capacity to even reply.
The task list in his brain was simple. The first task was to get home as soon as possible. The second was to fuck Harold against the first wall their bodies found in their home.
Even Harold’s smart mouth had totally stilled for the last couple of minutes of their walk. Siebren’s strides were long and certain, and Harold felt little shame at the alternating powerwalk and occasional jogged step he had to put in to keep up. What awaited was worth an embarrassing trot.
Siebren was the one to unlock the door, and he pushed through it with a blistering haste. He realised quickly that Harold had untangled their hands, and the bespectacled man stood on their front doorstep with a smug grin.
“You –” Siebren growled and reached across the threshold, grabbing Harold’s sweater and yanking him through the front door. He didn’t even close it before his mouth was on Harold’s again, hot and insistent.
Harold melded his body against Siebren’s, lifting a foot to slam the door shut behind them. As soon as he did, Siebren jostled him back against the wall beside the door, Harold letting out a little moan against Siebren’s bottom lip at the manhandling. Siebren pressed his leg between Harold’s, and Harold rocked his hips immediately into Siebren’s thigh, his hands groping at the taller man’s ass. He turned his head to the side, Siebren’s lips merely resituating at his neck at the absence.
“Is that –” Harold had to pause to swallow down a moan as Siebren’s leg shifted against him, but he persevered with his goading. “Is that all you got?”
Siebren groaned against him again, his hands which had been aimlessly roaming across Harold’s body finding their distinct purpose at his belt buckle. Harold gave a breathless grin as he pressed his shoulder blades hard against the wall, grinding his hips forward against Siebren’s leg and into his hands. Siebren loomed over him, undoing his belt and trousers with a fierce focus. Harold snaked his hands past Siebren’s to slip a hand over his groin, palming him over his clothing. It turned out that Siebren’s underwear had been particularly efficient that night. Harold gave Siebren’s clothed erection a squeeze, which only seemed to spur Siebren to shunt Harold’s trousers and underwear down faster, exposing his stiffening cock. Siebren wrapped his fingers around Harold’s dick, and Harold’s eyebrows knitted together with a gasp.
Siebren had touched him many, many times before, but Harold would never get used to the size of his hands. They were soft, and sure, and had Harold mentioned big? That part was very important.
Siebren’s loose fist pumped quickly, almost frantically around Harold’s cock. Siebren was usually slow and careful with his hands, and usually very gentle and gradual with his foreplay. Harold had never been quite so thrilled for his partner to be out of sorts.
Harold’s head rolled back against the wall, and Siebren took it as an open invitation to kiss the hollow of his throat. Against type, Siebren kissed his way back up to Harold’s jaw and murmured against the stubbled skin.
“Nothing else to say?” he muttered, and Harold let out a shuddery laugh. A growing heat was already pooling in his groin, and enamoured as he might have been by Siebren warming him up, he knew what they were both here for. Besides, there was no way a challenge like that was going unanswered.
Harold’s grasped Siebren’s wrist, and he reluctantly shifted the other man’s hand away from his cock. Both of his hands then travelled to Siebren’s hips, shifting him away just far enough to turn on the spot. He planted his hands against the wall, thrusting his hips backwards with a pushy purpose. He turned his head over his shoulder, looking at Siebren over the tops of his slipping glasses.
“Can you hurry up and fuck me?”
Siebren grabbed a handful of Harold’s hip with one hand as he reached over to their coat rack. Harold’s body was softer than Siebren’s was. He was so satisfying to grasp and squeeze that even the typically submissive Siebren couldn’t help but relish in the sensation of holding him in place, of taking hold of that body and manipulating it beneath his fingers. Siebren held Harold still as he flipped open the messenger bag that he’d asked Harold to unpack and put away at least three times in fortnight since their trip. He had to send up a cosmic thanks that his partner was so distractable. He fumbled past the rest of the bag’s contents, seeking out and finding the small plastic bottle, pulling it out with a satisfied hum. Harold’s back arched a little further, rolling his hip against the fingers digging into his side.
The sound of the cap flipping open had Harold glancing back over his shoulder again, watching intently as Siebren liberally coated his first two fingers in the lube. Siebren caught his gaze for a moment. Harold gave a coaxing smirk. Siebren slid his fingers between Harold’s cheeks, and Harold gave another needy shift back against his hand. Siebren didn’t protest in the slightest, sinking his fingers inside of Harold and immediately eliciting a string of magnificent noises as he began working him over. Harold’s forehead pressed against the wall, his jaw slack and his noises ceaseless.
Siebren wanted to ensure that Harold was prepared, and he would do so, unquestionably. But in that moment, he felt an unfamiliar impatience building that he would usually ascribe to his partner, not himself. He was typically the one to stretch foreplay out, letting Harold give the cues as to when they might move on to other things. He was confident, however, that Harold wouldn’t mind a slight role reversal in that regard.
“Are you ready?” Siebren asked, and Harold gave an almost disbelieving whimper as he pushed himself straighter against the wall.
“Please,” Harold whined, and at the request, Siebren simply could not move fast enough.
Harold huffed an anticipatory breath as he heard Siebren unbuckling his belt behind him. He knew this was not the most logistically straightforward fuck they’d ever undertaken, but Harold didn’t think there was much of a limit to what he’d do to make it work. He was only further encouraged by the sounds behind him, and he glanced back to look over Siebren once more while he still had the capacity. Taking in his usually composed partner desperately pushing his underwear down just enough to extricate his dick certainly only encouraged Harold to make do.
Harold stretched himself up onto his toes, and Siebren simultaneously took a wide stance as he held his erection, pressing the tip of his cock against Harold’s ass. Harold had little room to manoeuvre, so was grateful for the eagerness with which Siebren pushed inside of him. He reached back with one hand, grasping behind him and getting a handful of belt and trousers as he wordlessly told Siebren to press into him to the hilt. Large hands translated to other large appendages, but Harold was well-versed enough in the other man’s body to know what he was getting into – or, rather, what was getting into him. He knew what he wanted, and it was Siebren, right there, relentlessly and fully.
Siebren’s hand shifted from his cock to reach up under Harold’s arm for his chest, his other hand still gripping the softness of his haunch. His hips pressed that last little bit against Harold’s ass, the move punching a moan from both of their throats. For a moment, Siebren’s hand against Harold’s hip loosened its grip in favour of a gentler, massage-like touch, and his mouth lowered beside Harold’s ear.
“Good?” was all Siebren managed to pant. Harold lifted his head to turn it back towards Siebren. He already looked an absolute mess. His hand shifted from Siebren’s side to plant purposefully against the wall as he whispered indelicately.
“Fucking give it to me.”
If Siebren had planned on holding back any, those plans evaporated into the air with those five little words. Harold knew it, too, from the little growl that left Siebren’s lips, from the way that his fingers curled back against his hip and across his chest. He couldn’t parse any further thoughts as Siebren pulled back, then shunted his hips forward again with an audible smack against Harold’s ass. It was a warning shot, and Harold readjusted ever so slightly as Siebren’s hand shifted from his chest to his other hip as any semblance of patience left his being. Siebren’s hands held Harold firm and slightly aloft as he began to pound into him with a feverish, hungry pace. Harold gasped, his fingers scrabbling for purchase they wouldn’t find against the wall as Siebren thrust into him, over and over and over. Harold’s jaw went slack, moans wrenching their way from somewhere deep in his throat as he panted and gasped.
“I’ve got you,” Siebren panted, and the words managed to make their way into Harold’s ears despite the sensory overload of what was happening. A whined uh-huh snuck out between Harold’s gasping sounds, and Siebren dropped a kiss to his still sweater-clad shoulder. The kiss barely disrupted the rhythm of his hips, and it became one of those moments where Harold wondered what sort of wet dream of his that Siebren had sprung from, fully formed. He might have, on some other day, thought it unfair that his partner, whose proclivities leant significantly to the submissive and passive, could also more than competently rail him against their foyer wall at the drop of a hat. Today, though, he was more than content to simply reap the rewards of said competence.
Siebren was, indeed, still human, and that relentless pace eventually slowed ever so slightly. His quick thrusts swapped out for a purposeful grind against Harold’s ass. Harold’s long string of shuddering moans quieted into a lower hum at the pace shift, and Siebren thought the sound was wonderful. Just as wonderful, however, was the power he had to pull more sounds from Harold’s mouth with just a tiny withdrawal and a quick flick of his hips forward.
“Oh, fuck,” Harold gasped, an almost electric sensation shooting through his groin.
“Do you like that?” Siebren asked, his voice remarkably composed, all things considered. Harold could only nod, and that was enough for Siebren to flick his hips again. The sound Harold made was louder and more indecipherable this time, and the move called him to action. He pushed himself out from the wall a fraction, his hands still pressed up desperately against it. One of his hands dropped from the wall to wrap around his cock, and he gave a couple of loose strokes before groaning, strangled and needy.
“Come,” was all Harold managed as Siebren flicked his hips again, the word deforming into a guttural moan as it left Harold’s lips. He swallowed hard and huffed a couple of quick breaths before trying again, his voice hoarse and breathless. “I need to come.”
Harold had always been better with words than Siebren, particularly intimate ones, and the deployment of need was enough to undo Siebren almost entirely. With a renewed vigour and a singular focus, he picked up his earlier pace. Harold’s vocalisations from earlier filled the room once more, louder and more frenetic than they had been as Siebren thrust into him and his hand sped up around his own cock. His orgasm was ridiculously, absurdly close, and from the frantic breaths on his neck and the tiny smarts of fingernails digging into his hips, he had to assume that Siebren was too. He was usually a lot better at telling when Siebren was going to come. Then again, he usually wasn’t getting absolutely wrecked against a wall by Siebren, either.
All consideration dissipated as Harold’s orgasm hit. It was strong and dizzying, and he briefly saw static as he spilled over his own fist. His body tensed entirely, and that proved to be the start of Siebren’s undoing, a familiar, building moan sounding out in Harold’s ear. Harold had a split second to communicate a preference to Siebren, and he was concerned that if he took his hand off the wall, he would collapse on the spot.
Harold’s hand let go of his spent dick and flew back behind him, grabbing Siebren’s hip and purposefully pulling him in. Heeding the wordless permission, Siebren’s forehead dropped to Harold’s shoulder. He gave a couple of quick, shallow thrusts before he stiffened, burying himself into Harold fully as he came. The sensation made Harold gasp, his fingers curling into Siebren’s trousers. They tensed against one another, and then went slack in tandem.
Siebren slid out of Harold, letting go of his hips to brace his own hands against the wall around the shorter man. Harold had pressed himself right into the wall, and he leant against it in favour of immediately trusting his shaky legs. The shared panting of the two was all that sounded out for a minute or so, forming a decrescendo of rapid, heaving gasps into slow, heavy breaths. Once he had his bearings mostly back and was confident his legs wouldn’t give out, Harold turned on the spot. He craned his head up to give Siebren a hazy, satisfied and frankly exhausted smile. For once, he wasn’t quite sure what to say. Siebren, however, didn’t seem to have the same issue. He glanced down to his hip for a second before looking back to Harold.
“I’ll have to cold wash these, so the stain doesn’t set in,” he said, still a touch breathless.
An immediate laugh bubbled out of Harold. He tried to stop it by pressing his lips together, but the laugh won out, his eyes crinkling and his head lulling back against the wall. Siebren smiled at the sound, at his partner’s complete amusement. “What?”
“You –” Harold began, another laugh slipping out of his mouth before he could get the sentence out. “You’re here, dick still out after wrecking me against a wall and you’re thinking about laundry.” Harold was all-out grinning now, and Siebren’s eyebrows dipped as he briefly thought over his words. They eventually came out in a near-whine.
“These are my favourite trousers.”
Harold started laughing again, grasping Siebren’s jaw with one hand, stroking his cheek with his thumb.
“I really love you, you know that?” he asked.
“I do,” Siebren said, turning his head to drop a kiss into Harold’s palm before resituating his cheek into it, “and I love you.” Harold grinned at that, his head resting back against the wall once more. He drew his thumb tenderly over Siebren’s cheekbone, from the apple of his cheek to up to his temple. After a few moments, his grin settled into a slightly more knowing smirk.
“… You want to put that laundry on really badly, don’t you?” Harold queried. Siebren winced.
“Can I?” he asked. Harold dropped his hand and pushed himself lazily away from the wall, reaching down to strip off his sweater.
“I mean, you’re welcome to,” he said, pushing the garment into Siebren’s arms, “In the meantime, though, I don’t know about you, but I need to shower.” Harold kept purposefully stripping down, handing Siebren more and more of his clothes. Before long, he was entirely naked in their foyer, save his glasses and that smirk. Siebren glanced him up and down.
“I should also shower,” he said, abruptly. Harold gave a slow nod in agreement.
“You should,” he replied, “and with all the water we’re using on laundry, we should probably look to save some elsewhere.”
Siebren watched as Harold wandered down the hallway towards the bathroom. He looked down at the clothes in his arms, then back to the bathroom door as he heard the exhaust fan turn on.
The laundry would take five minutes. It would take five minutes for him to sort it, treat the stain, put the cycle on. Just five minutes.
The shower turned on, and five minutes seemed far too long.
Siebren immediately dropped Harold’s clothes from his arms, kicking his shoes off before stripping himself down.
His second-favourite pair of trousers were adequate enough, anyway.