Work Text:
Angel's in a bad mood.
And it's not getting better.
OJ and Em added on to the house; two extra bathrooms, an actual guest room (seeing as their previous guest room was now Angel's bedroom), and two brand new offices.
The largee office, that one Angel and OJ shared. It's easier, easier because neither one of them had to talk to people. OJ did the billing– contract negotiations, gathering details on boarding, boring shit. And Angel was doing technical details– running numbers on solar panels and reviewing the details of Em's RV to make sure he could redo the wiring.
Em's office is upstairs. It's small, just like she asked. She lugged her sewing machine up there too; bags and bags of half finished dresses and things she'd been meaning to mend. It's delightful, and cozy– a large window lets the sun beam in and Angel's taken one too many late afternoons naps on the couch in there.
But the contractors? They must have had a deadline because the Internet in her office is, well, nonexistent. Angel tried installing a router up there but it only worked if Em tipped it with her foot.
Irritation pours off Angel's body as he sifts through OJ's tool bag. He'd been up there for four hours already, ripping up freshly laid carpet and marking on floorboards with a large red marker.
"Can't we just run the ethernet cable through the hallway?" OJ asks.
Angel sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "No, OJ, we cannot just run the ethernet cable through the hallway. It would be a trip hazard. I need to run it up through the floor."
"We just had that carpet laid down."
"I was here when they did that, OJ. I'm very aware." Angel scrubs a hand over his face. It's too hot with both of them in that small office. Angel's old white sleeveless shirt was nearly transparent with grease and perspiration; OJ's dark blue t-shirt clung uncomfortably to his sides and underarms.
"Do you want somethin' to drink?" OJ offers.
"I'll tell you what I need."
OJ sits awkwardly on the couch, drumming on his knee while Angel sorts through drill bits. With one hand in the bag of metal bits, Angel's other hand clamps over OJ's. His palm is clammy and he digs his nails into OJ's wrist.
"Not now," Angel hisses.
"Sorry," OJ apologizes, eyes wide. He clenches his hands at his sides, working into the seams of the couch cushions to keep himself still.
He's also incredibly turned on.
Angel's comfortable, confident with the drill. He ignores OJ as drills small holes into the flooring, using a metal ruler to make sure they're spaced evenly.
OJ watches him, watches the twisting muscles of his shoulders down to the sinews in his forearms. Droplets of sweat race down his neck, disappearing into the ripped collar of his shirt.
Angel relaxes, just slightly, as he realizes that everything is working. He rolls his neck with a groan and OJ swallows as his eyes follow the column of Angel's throat.
"I feel you looking at me," Angel says, not looking at OJ. "Feel like you're trying to undress me with your mind."
OJ clears his throat. "I was just–"
"If I have to redo this," Angel interrupts. His voice is steady. "I'm not going to be happy with you."
"Do you want me to go?"
"No," Angel says with a small smirk. "I like having you watch."
So OJ watches, watches Angel work lengths of cabling through the holes he drilled, watching tension leak from his body as he finishes up. There's a fading bruise on the side of Angel's throat; OJ had sucked the mark into his skin a few days prior as Angel came apart beneath him, moaning and gasping out OJ's name.
OJ hears the clatter of Angel tossing tools back into the bag. Angel sighs twice and pauses three times to check his work. OJ stays silent, unsure of Angel's success.
"This isn't my first time being stared at while doing an installation," Angel says with a smile as he boots up Em's computer. "At least the Fry's customers are a little more subtle than you are."
OJ's words stick to his tongue. He technically didn't do anything wrong; he and Angel have been seeing each other for months now. But OJ feels shameful for still staring at Angel while he was trying to work.
As if Angel has not stared at OJ when he's been outside with the horses.
Still, Angel looks amused as he works at Em's computer. OJ doesn't say much ("is it working?") as Angel double-checks wires and cables.
"Fuckin' finally," Angel groans, stretching as he stands up. "Wasted a Saturday afternoon but at least Em's got internet up here." Angel looks curiously at OJ. "Well, maybe not a total waste."
He walks over to the couch, smirking as he pushes OJ into the cushions. The angle is awkward but Angel manages to fit his thigh between OJ's. The room is too stuffy, too humid, and OJ's lightheaded as Angel bends to brush their lips together.
"Were you ever gonna tell me that you've got a thing for watching me work?" Angel plays, running a hand down OJ's chest.
OJ doesn't respond. Instead he grinds against Angel's thigh with a soft moan.
"Should keep you around next time the cameras need maintenance."
"Just like lookin' at you," OJ offers.
"I need to shower," Angel says. "And then you can look at me all you want."
The cold shower, after Angel's used all the hot water, does nothing for OJ. Arousal burns in his blood, a painful throb between his thighs. He gasps as he grabs his cock, stroking a few times. He could speed up, strip his cock in the shower and splatter the tiles as he muffled himself.
He wants Angel.
They tried something different, just a few weeks ago. Angel had murmured that he had an idea, kissing OJ as he pulled him into his lap. Angel's fingers were gentle, slick and slow as he worked OJ open for him. It was new for OJ, but Angel was kind and encouraging as he helped him rock in Angel's lap.
OJ kept his palms steady on Angel's chest as he sped up, gasping loudly and moaning as he rode Angel hard and fast. Angel groaned, head thrown back as he thrust up into OJ's body. When OJ came, whining Angel's name, he couldn't stop; even as he shook with overstimulation, he kept grinding until Angel came, until Angel clawed at his thighs and said "no more".
OJ did what felt good, did what helped him chase his own pleasure. He was aware of Angel's body beneath him, aware of how Angel gripped his waist and panted as OJ's hips worked in slow circles. Instead OJ just let go; rocking and grinding until he went mindless from pleasure. He fucked himself over and over, feeling Angel's cock deep where he wanted it and coming with a high, desperate noise he'd never made before.
He wants to do it again.
Angel's already in OJ's bedroom, scrolling through his phone. He didn't bother after he showered and he wears only an old pair of boxers.
At least OJ put pants on, hoping they hide the insistent evidence. But Angel's gaze falls to the front of OJ's faded sweatpants and OJ knows what he sees. Angel sets his phone on OJ's nightstand as he sits up against the headboard. He looks at OJ, eyes dark and amused as he lets himself stare openly.
"God, OJ. Already?"
OJ adjusts himself, murmuring an apology.
"Don't apologize. Just get over here."
He settles into Angel's lap, letting Angel pull him into a soft kiss. Angel cups his jaw, smiling slightly as his other hand settles on OJ's waist. Even with the layers between them, OJ feels where Angel's half hard beneath him. He wants to rub against him, see Angel moan and make a mess of himself.
Instead OJ kisses him, sucking on his bottom lip and feeling Angel's hands firm on his waist. Angel tastes like sugar, like the sweet excuse for coffee he drinks all day, and OJ wraps his arms around his shoulders, pulling him close. Absent-mindedly he begins to rock, little rolls of his hips that make him gasp.
"Needy," Angel says, breathing against OJ's lips. "You're never like this."
OJ opens his mouth, prepared to defend himself but Angel cuts him off.
"I like it," he says, pulling OJ into a burning kiss. Angel bites at his lips, sliding his hands over OJ's waist and hips as he encourages him to grind. Angel's hard beneath him, meeting OJ with pushes of his own.
Angel gets his hands under OJ's shirt, pulling away from him to get the fabric over his head. Angel leans in, trailing kisses up OJ's throat and listening to his breath catch.
"Can we do that?" OJ starts awkwardly, swallowing a moan. "Again?"
Angel chuckles, one hand splayed over OJ's hip and the other gripping his ass. "You want me to fuck you?"
OJ nods.
"On your back," Angel directs, giving OJ a final squeeze.
OJ finishes undressing when he gets off Angel's lap as Angel ungraciously kicks his boxers off. Angel's been on top of OJ countless times, but this is different. He kisses OJ sloppily; all eager tongue and quick breaths, grabbing at OJ's shoulders and chest as he thrusts against OJ's hip. He's too fast, starting sentences before he finishes the previous one and babbling into OJ's skin.
OJ's seen Angel desperate to be fucked, but now he's desperate to fuck; desperate to get his cock slick and inside OJ, desperate jerks of his hips as he pumps into the tight heat of him over and over again, desperate to come deep in OJ's body.
"I wanna be good for you," Angel promises, brushing his fingertips over one of OJ's nipples. OJ gasps as Angel works his thumb over the sensitive skin.
"Can I?" Angel asks, lighting up with excitement. "Please, let me just–" He's babbling again, bending to swipe his warm, eager tongue over OJ's nipple.
"Nobody's ever– ah!-- ever done this before," OJ says as Angel's other hand comes up to knead at the muscles in his chest, pinching the other nipple as OJ moans loudly. Even the slight scrape of teeth makes OJ even harder and he throbs against Angel's hip.
"Always wanted to do this," Angel says, toying with OJ's nipples. His mouth is red, spit-slick and swollen, and he moans as he gets the other one in his mouth.
He needs more.
"Please," OJ begs. "Angel, please?"
Angel hums as laps at the tender bud. "In a minute," he murmurs. "I'm busy."
OJ squirms, fisting a hand in Angel's short hair and rubbing against the firm muscle of his thigh. Threads of pleasure start to wind in OJ's core but too far out of his reach. Angel tugs with his teeth, just to hear OJ hiss.
"Could do this all night," Angel says quietly. He blows lightly on OJ's swollen nipple, smirking as OJ writhes. He keeps his touch soft on the abused flesh before switching sides to repeat his actions. OJ's hips snap faster, all but fucking himself against Angel's thigh. Precome leaks from his cock, slicking their skin and making OJ groan as he thrusts.
"Angel." There's a whine in OJ's voice. He pulls Angel up by the hair, pulling him into a kiss.
"I'll take care of you," Angel pants as he places quick, wet kisses down OJ's jaw and neck. "Let me take care of you."
In his urgency, Angel drops the lube twice before he finally gets between OJ's thighs. OJ lifts so he can get a pillow beneath him, trying to get comfortable. He worries, just a bit, about how he looks for Angel. Angel's the seductive one, Angel's the one who knows how to stretch, how to pose, how to drive OJ wild.
"Should I turn over?" OJ offers, half out of self-consciousness.
"Next time," Angel says, running a hand up OJ's inner thigh. There's hunger in Angel's expression; even in his fumbling haste, he still looks at OJ's body with a mix of adoration and lust. "God," he smiles. "Look at you."
OJ relaxes some, letting Angel's hands roam his body. Angel's not playing, not saying things he doesn't mean. His hands say more, betraying his favorite parts of OJ. He squeezes OJ's biceps, swiping back down for a playful brush of his fingertips over OJ's nipples. Lower still over OJ's stomach, slight tickles across the softness of OJ's waist and hips before urging his thighs further apart.
"I've always loved these," Angel says, gripping the firm muscles. "I see you doing stuff outside, you know?, and I just stare at them. You know what I like best about them?"
"Hmm?"
Angel's hand drifts upwards, loosely wrapping around his cock. OJ tries to thrust up but Angel tuts at him.
"I like," he starts, tightening his hand, "just how easily you'll spread them for me." He twists his hand over the head of OJ's cock, just how he likes it. OJ cries out as the unexpected pleasure races up his spine.
"All I had to do," Angel continues, "is just fuck you once and now you're almost begging for me again."
Now it's the sex talking. Angel's pupils dilate, breath catching as he talks. He's hard, obscene and aching, and OJ's lets his gaze fall between Angel's legs.
"What's next, hmm? You gonna let me fuck you while you're working? Bend over that desk of yours and ask nicely?" He gets the lube open, sliding one wet finger into OJ.
"F-fuck." Angel hasn't even started yet and OJ's almost ready to come. It's too new, too good. OJ's blood pounds between his legs and he spreads them wider, just for Angel.
"More?"
OJ nods. His cheeks are on fire and his tongue sticks in his mouth. He should never have let Angel do this. He should have let Angel do this the first time they met. He's spiraling, already losing control. Angel's too warm, too arousing against him. He's perfect.
The second finger burns but Angel's slowing, gentle as he scissors his fingers. OJ gets a hand around himself, sighing as Angel's fingers work him open. He'd tried this once, years ago, but it felt uncomfortable and awkward. Now Angel curls his fingers, searching OJ's face as he presses on that spot inside him.
Angel's slack jawed as he watches OJ touch himself. OJ can't preen for him, can't put on a show like Angel can. Instead he rocks back on Angel's fingers, getting his hand slick and groaning as pleasure tightens in his core.
"Fuck," Angel breathes as he fits a third finger in, watching his slippery fingers slide in and out of his hole. "God, you feel amazing."
OJ whimpers, hand fast around his cock. He's almost there but doesn't want Angel to stop.
"You want it, don't you?" Angel plays, slowing his fingers just to watch him squirm. "You want to just fuck yourself on my fingers until you come, huh?" He punctuates with a curl of his fingers that makes OJ moan.
"Not yet." Angel carefully removes his fingers, wiping them on the sheets. He exhales, brow furrowing as he spreads lube on his cock, looking at OJ's chest as he fucks his fist a few times.
OJ's eyes roll back as Angel presses his cock into him. The stretch makes him hungrier, aching for Angel to fuck him until they're both exhausted. He hopes this is how Angel feels, feels that deep hunger for more.
"Tight," Angel breathes. "Holy fuck."
Angel laces their fingers together, keeping OJ's hands firm against the mattress. OJ squeezes Angel's hand, hoping it's reassuring. He can't talk. It's too deep, too full, and OJ swallows a whine as Angel's pelvis settles against him.
"Here," Angel offers. He lets go, running a hand up OJ's outer thigh. "Like this." OJ wraps his thighs around Angel's torso, trapping Angel against him.
"This okay?" OJ asks quietly.
"It's perfect," Angel smiles. He drops on his forearms, exhaling at the adjustment, but brushes his lips against OJ's. "Quit worrying," he says gently. "I told you I'd make you feel good."
"It's good," OJ says.
"Good," Angel says. He leans down, pressing a slow kiss to OJ's throat. "Just let go. I've got you."
OJ gasps at the first tentative thrust, thighs tightening around Angel. He wraps his arms around Angel's shoulders, nails digging into Angel's damp skin. It's better than that first time; now OJ can hear every catch in Angel's breath, feel the comfortable weight of his body on top of him.
"Faster." Angel's slow thrusts are nice but not what OJ wants. He knows Angel can do it, can fuck him until OJ's mind goes blank. OJ tightens his thighs, trying to spur him on.
"Are you–?"
"Angel."
Angel adjusts, grabbing the headboard for leverage as he pounds into him. OJ shouts, dragging his blunt nails down Angel's back, trying to rock against him. He's never seen Angel like this. Even as Angel smiles, baring his teeth and swallowing moans, he's the one in control here.
He gives and OJ takes.
And takes.
And takes.
Angel's frantic, biting off little whines and shaking as he fucks him. OJ knows that look, knows it's when Angel's at his most blissed out.
OJ closes his eyes, trying to relax and let Angel take over. It takes a second, fighting off errant thoughts and reminders of work that needs done later, but eventually OJ moans deeply as Angel hips snap faster.
"Goddamn," Angel groans. "Christ, OJ– you have no f-fucking idea how hard you make me. Look at you; look at your body. Fuck. I wanted you from the first time I saw you."
The pleasure begins to swallow him. Angel's cock is right where he needs it and he cries out, needy and desperate, as Angel presses firm against his prostate with every quick thrust.
"So good for me," Angel continues. "C'mon baby, let me hear you. Let me hear how good you feel."
OJ groans in response. Angel knows him, knows how to work his body, knows how to bring OJ closer and closer to the precipice.
"Louder," Angel grunts. He adjusts, getting one of OJ's thighs higher against him. Angel pins his hands to the mattress and OJ whines as his cock is trapped between their bodies.
"Angel!" His mind is starting to white out; pinpricks of satisfaction build along his spine.
"Good," Angel praises. He bends down, panting into OJ's skin as he bites kisses down his throat and collarbone. "Tell me what you need."
"I don't–!" OJ writhes beneath him, trying to get extra stimulation on his cock while meeting Angel's thrusts. "I don't know."
"Get your hand– just like that," Angel encourages as OJ gets a hand on his leaking cock. "I wanna hear you."
OJ moans, eyes rolling back as he fucks up into his fist. Angel's whispering in his ear, praising him for being so noisy, telling him how OJ's body makes him feel.
"Angel, please!" OJ's voice is high and desperate, hand fast around his cock. The pleasure is starting to snap, starting to explode deep in his core.
"Show me," Angel pants, his own hips losing rhythm. "Baby, show me how pretty you are when you come. Let me see you."
OJ comes with a deep, throaty noise, come splashing between them. He grinds uselessly against Angel, losing himself in the endless orgasm. It doesn't stop, not when Angel keeps thrusting, the pleasure stretching until it snaps and breaks. His lungs burn as he pants, pulling Angel down into a messy kiss.
"'m close," Angel mumbles against OJ's lips. "'m gonna fill you up. Make you mine."
"Please," OJ gasps. "Angel, c'mon. Nice and deep."
Angel bites on the junction of OJ's shoulder to muffle himself, grinding against OJ's ass as he comes. He collapses against OJ, sweat and come sticking on their bodies.
"Oh my god."
OJ chuckles. He's gone, floating as he regains feeling in his thighs. He's satisfied and the warm weight of Angel isn't unwanted, not when Angel laps at his bite, humming as he eases out.
"Thank you," OJ says awkwardly as Angel lays next to him.
"Thank you for letting me fuck your brains out," Angel jokes. "I'm turning you into a horny little monster at this rate."
"We should try it, though."
"Hmm?"
"The desk," OJ elaborates. "With one of us…" He makes a vague gesture with his hands.
"OJ," Angel starts with a grin, "are we going to fuck in every room of this house?"
"Not every room," OJ says. "We can't do this shit in Em's room."
"I don't know," Angel says with a small smirk. "I might need some extra hands when I work on that RV out there."
As they wind down, Angel adjusts so he can pull OJ into his arms. OJ relaxes with his head against Angel's chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. He feels almost…small. Vulnerable. Held.
"I got you," Angel whispers, almost like he can read OJ's thoughts. "I'll take care of you."
OJ believes him.