thought i planned for everything (just didn’t count on you) | 1.6k | E (BuckTommy)
Earlier today I promised my wife @bidisasterevankinard an incentive for studying in exchange for making her think about too many WIP ideas. Since husband @diazsdimples is also going through it with schooling, this is for both of you 😘 ps: idk anything about what certs and licenses and stuff Tommy would need. Just roll with it and be nice, yeah? Also, this is unbeta’d so if you see any mistakes, no you don’t.
Tommy scrubs at his forehead, blowing out a frustrated breath. He’s looked at the material in front of him for months now, determined to ace his recertifications. And it had been going well. Really well, in fact. He had a study schedule mapped out, accounting for his shifts and time with friends. He even left a small margin for the unexpected. There was just one factor he hadn’t accounted for. Evan.
The past few years of dating haven’t exactly gone anywhere serious. Some casual dates, one that he thought could go the distance but only broke his heart. So the expectation of having that feeling again? Of having someone thoughtful and caring, who gives him butterflies and makes him want things? Pretty much zero.
But then a hurricane happened. Actual and metaphorical. It tore through his life, upending the idea that love – or anything close to it – just wasn’t in the cards for him. And when everything settled, there was Evan. Evan, who asks how his shift was, tells him when he gets back from a call, and turns a pretty shade of pink as he blushes and says ‘I missed you’.
Tommy doesn’t regret any of it, but he does wish the universe’s cosmic timing could’ve held off just a little longer. At least until the state of California tells him what he already knows and says he’s fit to pilot an aircraft.
A knock on the door gets his attention, but he seriously contemplates ignoring it. He didn’t order anything and he doesn’t have plans. Unfortunately, the first responder in him can’t help wondering if one of his elderly neighbors needs something.
Fine. He sets down the pen he’s been chewing on and reminds himself it’s been too long since he stood up and walked around anyway.
“Evan?” Tommy asks, surprised to see him standing there. He instinctively looks him up and down for obvious injuries or signs of distress, but finds nothing. Only his gorgeous boyfriend, smiling coyly. “I didn’t forget about a date, did I?”
“No, uh, nothing like that. Because you are supposed to be studying.” Evan raises one eyebrow like Tommy is in the wrong for answering his own door after somehow manifesting Evan’s presence.
“And yet here you are.”
“Here I am,” Evan says shyly. “I know I’ve been taking a lot of your time lately and wanted to help.”
For the first time, Tommy notices Evan’s got his hands behind his back and wonders what his definition of ‘help’ is. He’s dressed down, soft and adorable in a hoodie and joggers, so it’s unlikely to be a booty call. Though not completely out of the question. And not that Tommy would complain either.
“Did you bring flashcards or something?”
“As a matter of fact…” Evan steps over the threshold, past Tommy, like he owns the place. While shy, demure Evan is a favorite, confident Evan is by no means a turn off. Especially as he whirls around and proudly holds up a set of blue, yellow and pink index cards. “I did.”
“Evan-”
“A few nights, when I couldn’t sleep, I might have taken some notes of my own. And, like I said, thought I could make myself useful for my hot, pilot boyfriend.” He rocks up on his tiptoes, capturing Tommy’s lips for a chaste kiss before he meanders to the kitchen.
Tommy pushes the door closed, following Evan where he lays the cards down on the table, opposite the books and manuals Tommy has scattered. Evan walks to the cabinets and helps himself to a glass, filling it with water before returning. Next he makes himself comfortable in a chair, sitting slightly back with his legs spread apart.
“So, can I help?”
There’s a glimmer of mischief in the way Evan looks at him now that has his heart racing. Like helping is the last thing Evan plans to do.
Tommy gathers himself enough to sit down in his own seat and flashes Evan a confident smirk.
“Do your worst, kid.”
“I’ll start with an easy one. What is the atmospheric gas composition?”
“Twenty-one percent oxygen, seventy-eight percent nitrogen, one percent other,” Tommy rattles off.
“Well done.” Evan flicks the card down then casually leans over to untie one shoe and slip it off.
“What are you-”
Evan clicks his tongue, tutting in fake admonishment. “Can’t tell you all my secrets, baby. Next question. Each one hundred meter climb in elevation causes a temperature drop of what?”
“One degree Celsius.”
Evan simply grins and removes his other shoe, leaving him in socked feet. Tommy would be lying if he said his dick wasn’t taking interest now that he’s caught on to Evan’s game. It is thoroughly unhelpful.
“PAIP should be implemented how many minutes after an aircraft fails to give its position report or is overdue for arrival?”
“Fifteen. Got anything harder for me?”
Evan’s tongue darts out, licking along his lower lip. “Oh, you bet I do.”
Tommy takes a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure and think about… anything except bending Evan over the table. If only it was that simple.
They repeat the process, volleying questions and answers back and forth until Evan’s stripped down to his boxers, his cock obviously hard and leaking beneath the tented fabric. It’s distracting as hell and Tommy doesn’t know how he’s supposed to concentrate.
“Come on, old man,” Evan teases, palming himself lazily. “Lives are on the line here. You need to be able to think under tense conditions.”
“You’re such a brat.” Tommy’s jeans press uncomfortably on his own straining erection and he doesn’t bother to stop himself from mirroring Evan’s movements.
“Yeah, but I’m your brat.” Evan applies more pressure, letting out an obscene moan as he strokes himself. “Or I could be – ahh – if you get this – mmph – question right.”
“Fuck, Evan.” Tommy undoes his belt and zipper, creating the tiniest bit of relief.
“That’s the idea. Even – oh, fuck – wore the new plug I told you about.”
Christ, Evan’s gonna kill him before they get the chance to see this all play out. And that’s unacceptable.
“Don’t stop,” Tommy orders, stalking off to grab the lube stashed in the couch cushions. When he returns, Evan is still stroking himself exactly like he was instructed. “Good boy, Evan. Doing what I told you.”
Tommy grips his chin and crashes their mouths together in a filthy kiss, delighted as Evan makes the most beautiful whine.
“But, you – ah – didn’t answer me,” Evan protests when they separate.
“Myoglobin.” He leans close to Evan’s ear, nipping at the lobe. “Lesson’s over, kid. Face down over the table. Naked. Now.”
Evan nearly trips over himself, leaping up from his chair and shoving his boxers down. He drapes himself over the piles of papers and index cards, wiggling his ass like he’ll die if he has to go one more second without being fucked.
“Gotta say, I like your methods,” Tommy murmurs, starting to work the plug in and out, tracing his other hand along Evan’s bare skin. “But now I think it’s time for your reward. Don’t you, sweetheart?”
“Yeah, yes. Please.”
“So desperate, my Evan,” Tommy coos. “Thought you would be in control, getting me all worked up. And here you are, laid out so gorgeously for me, just begging for it.”
Tommy pulls the plug out completely, discarding it to the floor. Evan keens and clenches around nothing, just waiting to be full again.
“Don’t worry, baby. I got you.” Tommy shoves his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. He slicks himself up with the lube and smears a generous amount on his fingers, fucking them in and out of Evan’s hole. Just enough to ease the way.
“Tommy,” Evan pants, practically crying when he pulls out.
He lines himself up, gripping Evan’s hips and pushing in without additional warning. He doesn’t pause for adjustments before he sets a relentless pace. It’s unlikely either of them are going to last, but he’s not going for longevity here.
Evan curls his hands around the edges of the table, leveraging it to fuck himself back against Tommy’s cock. It’s stunning and breathtaking, the rhythm they’re creating. A symphony of moans, squelches and skin against skin.
Soon the familiar heat pools in his belly, bringing him closer to the edge.
“Ohfuuuuck,” Evan moans, purposely tightening around him.
Tommy digs his fingertips into Evan’s sides, the world around him being reduced to static and white noise as he comes, filling Evan up. He thinks he might shout Evan’s name, but he’s not really sure, nor does he really care as he slumps forward, draping himself across Evan’s glistening skin.
“Gimmeasec,” he mumbles. “I’ll take careayou.”
“No need,” Evan murmurs back. “All good.”
Tommy presses a lazy kiss to Evan’s spine, enjoying the resulting small shudder. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
He kisses another ridge, and another, before answering. ��For taking notes. For caring. Wanting to help out. For being you.”
“It wasn’t too much?” Evan whispers, hesitantly.
“Never,” Tommy assures him, dropping gentle kisses over his neck and shoulders, mindful of the mess forming between them as he maneuvers to properly reach. “Never too much, baby.”
He bites back words that are too early to say, even if he definitely feels them. Has felt them building in his chest, creating a near endless chant. He wonders how long he’ll be able to smother them before they burst forth. Hopefully long enough. Enough for Evan to feel them, too. For Evan to want to stay.
“Clean up and nap?” Tommy asks instead.
“Sounds good. Earned it.”
Tommy huffs an amused sound against Evan’s skin before pressing one last kiss there. God, I hope so, kid.
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thinking. the exhaust has me thinking.
in which she wants to be as carefree as the falling maple leaves when autumn strolls on by with its festive smile. in which she's the cooling breeze that invites a bit warm jacket. she wants to be loose, free, serene. in most cases, she doesn't get that. not a singular chance in hell would she.
for a woman who cracks jokes so easily and easily gives up her heart from her chest to see her dear loved ones happy and smiling, he watches her bleed out on the stage. he watches her perform and act with her mouth bleeding lies from her gums and throat— that she's "just making everyone happy", is all. what a load of bullshit. he sees her desire to be in the mosh pit, instead she's become a wallflower because she fears the reaction of letting too loose.
"too many leave from the moment she breathes an air of vulnerability," she mumbles one night in a sleep-deprived state. she does that a lot. starves herself of necessity until shes groveling to it. he can see it in her eyes that she is tired. he can sense it in the sigh that she wants to feel appreciated by those she was once close to. yet she doesn't wanna drop what she deems a "cartoonish anvil" on others' head—
but this hurts him. she'll bear the weight of thirty two acquaintances' anvils and smithing tables before she even glazes off a sliver of broken rock off her own work bench.
he doesn't like that she can't focus on her own life at times, feel the way she wants to and express it without the fear of a snapping turtle biting her good fingers off. he doesn't like that she's wearing the comedy mask with her tail between her legs.
he doesn't like what life has done to the beauty, to the perfection that is his dearest. yet if he even tries to suggest that he can be a safe haven, she brushes it off. a mere shrug. a claim to be alright and that she doesn't know what he's on about.
┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄
so when the stars aligned and now she rests in his arms, face swollen and stuffy from crying and that fateful act now having fallen, he appreciates her more. her final act, the truth of one's life, to be vulnerable. while he will always appreciate the blood she ripped from her veins in order to keep a smile on his face, to keep him feeling safe, he ultimately wanted this.
he wanted Her, not the actor who's bruised and bloody ballerina feet still struggle to keep her performances perfect.
"how can you stand the performance with such a terrible climax?" she questions, a sense of identity lost since she's no longer tending to someone, now being the tended to. his smile is warm, so very warm, when he speaks back.
"because i never came for the show, i always came to see you at your most honest point within the hell you've danced bloodily to."
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