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Sometimes, Buck thinks that the last couple of weeks have been another coma dream - that something happened when they went out to rescue Bobby and Athena, and he’s hooked up to more machines and living a fantasy life.
But then he texts Bobby, or Eddie, and they answer, and it hits him all over again that this is real. It’s really happening.
He’s dating a guy.
He, Evan Alexander Buckley, is dating a man.
And he’s… having fun.
Honestly, Buck can’t really remember the last time he had fun while dating someone. He’s always been trying so hard to make it work that this, being the one being… pursued, is entirely new.
He likes it.
Tommy plans their first date - which is for the best, frankly, since Buck’s brain is still rebooting even by the time he agrees to dinner on Saturday when Tommy picks him up - and even after that, while Tommy still asks for Buck’s input, asks his opinion on things, he’s kind of… taking the lead. Buck’s grateful for it, honestly; he’d had more than a couple moments of panic leading up to that first Saturday, worrying he’d somehow be just absolutely awful at dating a guy, and those worries weren’t entirely gone.
But with every date, with every touch, every kiss…
God, the kisses.
Buck always knew he liked women - genuinely liked them, was attracted to them, liked kissing them and liked sex with them - but kissing a man is just so different, it’s thrilling. There’s stubble, the shape of Tommy’s jaw is different beneath Buck’s fingertips, stronger, and when he presses close - or when Buck presses close to him - it’s exciting to feel a flatter chest against his own, to kiss someone who’s as tall as him, as broad as him.
Buck likes to think he’s gotten good at kissing Tommy; he’s definitely more of an active participant now than he was in that first kiss, kissing Tommy back on instinct and want. He’s started to learn the ways that Tommy likes to be kissed, and the look on Tommy’s face the first time that Buck had kissed him - He’d been surprised, but pleased, and he’d smiled at Buck so softly that Buck couldn’t help but kiss him again, both of them smiling into it.
They’ve gotten a little further than just kissing, too; their schedules are chaotic, but they’ve managed to find a couple of evenings to stay in at either apartment, to watch a movie or a game. The last time Buck had gone over to Tommy’s place, they’d gotten distracted by half-time. They’d ended up sprawled over Tommy’s couch, Tommy pulling Buck on top of him as they’d kissed, hot and languid. Hands had wandered, and while neither of them had lost any clothes, Buck had gotten his hands under Tommy’s shirt, had felt Tommy’s hands on his skin, and felt the evidence that Tommy was just as affected as he was.
And tonight -
Tonight, Buck has no plans for tomorrow, is off on a forty-eight, and Tommy’s off, too. There’s a marathon of Die Hard and its numerous sequels on, which is the original excuse Buck had for getting Tommy here, but now that they’ve made it through the first - and best, in Buck’s opinion, and holy shit how had he not realized he was bi before now, looking at Bruce Willis and Alan Rickman - they’ve gotten… distracted again.
It’d started when they’d run out of popcorn, Tommy leaning forward to put the empty bowl on the coffee table, settling back on the couch with his entire side pressed against Buck’s, lifting one arm to rest against the back of the couch, curled around Buck’s shoulders. Buck’s always been the one to pull that move before, and to have it used on him makes his heart pound, something warm pooling in his gut as he leans into Tommy a little more comfortably.
It’s the most natural thing in the world, to let his hand fall to Tommy’s thigh - not with any kind of intent, really, just… touching, for the connection. Tommy glances at him, but when he catches Buck’s eye, he just smiles, curling his arm a little more snugly, a little more intently, around Buck’s shoulders in response. They finish the movie like that, and they clean up their snacks, grabbing refills on drinks while they chat about the movie, taking a quick bathroom break before settling in on the couch once more. This time, they start the movie with Buck tucked against Tommy’s side, Tommy’s arm over Buck’s shoulders, his thumb sweeping over Buck’s arm, edging under the sleeve of his t-shirt.
It makes Buck shiver, and when Tommy looks at him, just a little bit of a smirk to his expression like he knows exactly what effect he’s having on Buck -
Well, how is Buck supposed to do anything but kiss the smirk right off his lips?
The movie continues playing unheeded as they make out, adjusting themselves until the angle isn’t quite so awkward. Tommy’s got one hand on Buck’s hip, his other still wrapped around Buck, and Buck’s got one hand buried in Tommy’s hair, the other wandering, unable to settle as they press closer together, but not close enough -
Then the world tilts on its axis, or maybe that’s just Buck - when he pulls back, his head bumps against one of his throw pillows, and he realizes he’s looking up at Tommy, who looks pretty damn smug about having Buck under him.
Buck is abruptly so fucking turned on it hurts.
He gets both hands on Tommy, yanking him into a hard kiss that makes their noses bump and is not-really-ruined by the way Tommy laughs at him. “Good thing about dating a firefighter, huh?” he murmurs in the space between kisses, his nose nudging against Buck’s cheek, the gesture making Buck smile as something inside him melts.
“Yeah, guess so,” he says, breathless. “Kinda fun, being on this side of it.”
“You’ll have to manhandle me later,” Tommy hums, his five o’clock rasping pleasantly against Buck’s own as he presses a line of soft kisses down Buck’s jaw.
The thought is tempting, but - “Later,” Buck promises, drawing Tommy back up for more proper kissing. He shifts a little, getting more comfortable, and Tommy settles, heavy in the most perfect kind of way, in the space between his legs, his hands wandering over Buck’s arms, his chest and stomach as Buck returns every touch with eager exploratory touches of his own.
Eventually, Tommy’s hands find their way down to the hem of Buck’s shirt, and there - they hesitate, just for a moment, before Buck feels Tommy’s knuckles brush against his hips, his fingers curling in the fabric. “Can I - “ Tommy hesitates, taking a breath and letting it out slowly. “I want to see you, Evan. Can I?’
Buck needs Tommy’s hands on him like he needs to breathe. “Yes,” he says, nodding and already lifting his arms up. “God, yes, I - You, too?”
Tommy’s grin is briefly hidden by the fabric of Buck’s shirt when he tugs it over Buck’s head, but then he’s catching Buck’s wrists, guiding them down to the hem of his own shirt. “Yeah, me, too,” he agrees, laughing when Buck immediately yanks at the fabric in his hands, pulling the shirt up and over Tommy’s head. He tosses it in the vague direction of the kitchen, already distracted by the sight of all the skin suddenly available for him to touch.
Tommy very kindly doesn’t laugh at him when it takes Buck a minute to figure out where to put his hands first. There’s too many options, so finally Buck just… lets his hands decide.
He ends up with both palms pressed against Tommy’s chest, fingers spread - and Jesus, he can barely span the width of Tommy’s chest. Buck has no words for what the realization makes him feel, except that it’s like being overwhelmed in the best possible way, like nothing could be better than this -
And then Tommy touches him.
Buck has had… a lot of sex, alright? Sure, a lot of it was really inadvisable, but it still counted. He’s had lots of people - lots of women - touch him.
None of it compares to the feeling on Tommy’s hands on his waist, skimming up until his fingers fit in the spaces between Buck’s ribs, the calluses on his hand catching against Buck’s skin in the perfect way to make him shiver. None of his previous experiences hold a candle to the feeling of Tommy pressing closer, his stomach brushing Buck’s, their cocks brushing through their jeans as Tommy kisses him deep enough to make Buck’s head spin and his lips feel deliciously bruised.
Tommy’s hips roll, and Buck gasps into the next kiss, his head spinning as his hands drop to Tommy’s waist, grip tight enough to bruise. “Fuck - “
He can feel Tommy’s smile against his throat, where Tommy had moved when Buck’s head had fallen back. Tommy presses a kiss over Buck’s pulse, making it jump, and when Buck gasps again, lifts his head just enough to meet Buck’s eye. “Good?” he checks, and Buck feels an immense fondness well up in his chest.
He manages to lift one hand, bring it up to cup Tommy’s cheek, thumb rasping against his stubble as he smiles. “Good,” he confirms, and then promptly loses his breath when Tommy turns his head and -
Jesus, takes Buck’s thumb into his mouth and bites, just hard enough to sting.
Buck might actually pass out, what with how fast all of the blood in his body is rushing south. He makes some sort of strangled, punched-out noise; Tommy’s eyes glint and then Buck feels his tongue against the pad of his thumb, and Tommy sucks.
“Christ,” Buck breathes, sounding vaguely strangled. “Holy shit, Tommy - “
Tommy lets his thumb go, but then he ducks down, his mouth brushing over Buck’s collarbone, and Buck’s breath catches in his chest. Tommy glances up at him without lifting himself up, and Buck feels caught, trapped in Tommy’s gaze, the soft edges of his smile as his hands drift over Buck’s sides, one sliding down until he can wrap a hand around the outside of Buck’s thigh, lifting his leg and encouraging it to wrap around Tommy’s hip, giving them a better angle, better friction that makes Buck whine.
“God, you sound gorgeous, Evan,” Tommy sighs, hips rolling in a lazy rhythm that Buck can’t help but follow, gasping when Tommy’s mouth finds his chest again, stubble dragging in a delicious burn over his nipple before being soothed by Tommy’s tongue.
Taylor had liked to play with his chest, too, but it never felt like this.
Buck clutches at Tommy’s shoulders, feeling a little bit like he’s just along for the ride, trying to keep up with Tommy and the sensations swarming over and through him. Sex has never felt this overwhelming, this intense before - and it’s not even really sex, not yet, even if Buck feels about ten seconds away from coming in his pants like a damn teenager.
Buck completely loses track of time then, too absorbed in the rhythm Tommy’s built, in getting his hands on as much of Tommy’s skin as possible, the kisses they trade growing messier and less coordinated with every thrust. He’s completely lost control of his vocal chords, making noises he wasn’t even aware he could make -
And then Tommy stops.
Buck groans, loud and frustrated, and the hand he has in Tommy’s hair tightens. “Why’d you stop?” he demands - not pouts. “I - “
“I can keep going,” Tommy says, sounding breathless and just a little uncertain, a little bit like when he’d asked if it was okay that he’d kissed Buck, that first time, “but I - You can say no, Evan, there’s no pressure, but I really want to get my mouth on you.”
Buck blinks. “Your mouth was on me.”
Tommy snorts, smiling in the way that makes his eyes crinkle, that makes Buck want to kiss him there. “Yeah, but I want to blow you.”
“You - “ The realization hits a moment later, and Buck stops with his mouth open. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh,” Tommy chuckles. “Gonna let me?”
Buck doesn’t recognize his own voice when he begs, “Please.”
Tommy’s smile is blinding, and he surges upward, every goddamn inch of his body pressed against Buck’s as he kisses Buck like he’s trying to steal the very breath from his lungs.
He just about succeeds; by the time the kiss ends, Buck is lightheaded, his hands clutching at Tommy’s shoulder and back like a drowning man to a lifeline. Tommy presses a kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth, to his jaw, then moves down, kissing as he goes until Buck’s knees are around his shoulders. Tommy’s hands are on his belt, and he pauses, looking up at Buck, a question in his eyes -
And Buck reaches for his buckle, undoing it without hesitation.
Tommy’s expression softens, and he makes quick work of Buck’s pants, tugging them off and tossing them onto the floor behind himself. In the process, Buck ends up sitting on the couch, Tommy on his knees between Buck and the coffee table, which squeaks against the wood floor when Tommy has to shove it out of the way to make room for himself.
Buck feels like he’s dreaming, looking down at Tommy, hands fluttering uncertainly until Tommy catches one, turning it so he can kiss the pulse in Buck’s wrist, a soft gesture that lets Buck breathe. He curls his fingers, lets them drag against Tommy’s cheek, earning himself a smile as Tommy’s hands slide up his thighs, over the fabric of his boxer-briefs -
And then Tommy’s hand - his big, calloused, broad hand - covers Buck’s dick, practically stroking him over the fabric, and Buck loses all ability to care about anything outside of this loft. The building could fall down around his ears, and he wouldn’t notice.
Tommy laughs, quiet and amused. “You should see your face right now,” he teases, grinning when Buck gives him a half-hearted glare.
“It’s the first time a guy’s touched my dick, it’s - different.”
“Yeah, it is,” Tommy agrees, and oh, fuck, that was definitely a stroke, long and slow, and Buck shudders, cramming his fist into his mouth to muffle the ungodly moan trying to claw it way out of his throat. Tommy reaches up with his other hand, fingers wrapping around Buck’s wrist, and tugs his hand away. “None of that, Evan,” he says, voice dropping into a husky timbre Buck’s never heard, but would like to for the rest of, oh, forever. “I want to hear you. Want to know what you like.”
“Fuck,” Buck swears, hands dropping to Tommy’s shoulders for lack of anything else to grab. “God, I - Do that again, please.” Tommy does, and this time Buck doesn’t fight the noise that elicits; he misses Tommy’s reaction, too busy watching Tommy’s hand move over his cock, the friction making sparks zing up Buck’s spine.
Tommy repeats the motion one more time, and then his hand moves up, fingers hooking in the elastic, and Buck’s already lifting his hips before Tommy can ask if Buck’s ready for this. Tommy chuckles, the sound settling warm in Buck’s chest, and takes the invitation, peeling Buck’s pants off. Buck would be a little embarrassed about the way his cock bobs, slapping against his stomach, except for the look on Tommy’s face. His eyes have widened, and he looks -
Hungry.
He doesn’t touch Buck’s cock again until his pants are completely gone - they could be hanging off of the lamp, for all Buck knows or cares right now - and Buck can spread his legs, make room for Tommy to press in closer. Tommy puts one hand on Buck’s thigh, his other coming up to curl around Buck’s cock. Buck hisses in a breath, nodding when Tommy looks at him questioningly; it’s good, but it’s -
Well. It’s Tommy, not Abby or Ali or Taylor, or anyone else Buck’s ever slept with.
Buck can’t get over that difference as Tommy strokes him slowly, rubbing his thumb over the head to gather the precome there. It’s… a lot, which Buck knows some people don’t like, but Tommy doesn’t seem to be one of them; he seems to find it really hot, actually, if the way he watches Buck leak precome all over his fist with an avid gaze is any indication. Buck’s really not sure he’s going to last long enough for Tommy to get his mouth on him if Tommy keeps teasing, and he opens his mouth to say just that -
And then Tommy does put his mouth on Buck, leaning in and taking the head of Buck’s cock into his mouth as his hand slides down the shaft.
Buck shouts, head practically slamming against the cushion behind him, his nails digging into Tommy’s shoulders. He can feel Tommy’s mouth curve, and then that’s Tommy’s tongue sweeping over the head of his cock, and Buck swears. “Fuck, fuck, God - Tommy - “
Tommy clearly knows what the hell he’s doing, because he doesn’t waste any time; he starts to bob his head, clearly getting a feel for how much of Buck he can take into his mouth, working the rest with his hand. Buck feels his other hand move from his thigh, drifting further in, and then -
Shit, that’s Tommy’s hand on his balls, gentle and stroking, and Buck chokes on his own tongue, unable to stop the way his hips jerk. Luckily, Tommy seems to have anticipated that, because he just moves with Buck, not letting Buck accidentally gag him, and then he -
He picks up the pace.
Buck tries to keep his movements under control, completely gives up on trying to stay quiet, and just - lets Tommy do what he clearly knows how to do really damn well. Buck would be embarrassed about how quickly this is going to be over, but he figures Tommy will cut him some slack when Buck pushes at his shoulders, gasping a warning just barely in time for Tommy to pull back, to stroke Buck through his orgasm, angling his cock so that most of the mess ends up on Buck’s stomach, where it can easily be wiped off with one of the paper towels they’d brought over for the - now long-forgotten - buttery popcorn.
Buck’s brain is still rebooting after that frankly earth-shattering orgasm when Tommy lifts his hand and licks his fingers clean.
Buck’s moving before he realizes, sliding off of the couch and into Tommy’s lap, Tommy grunting in surprise and the coffee table’s legs squealing in protest as it’s knocked further backwards to make room for him. He hauls Tommy in for a kiss, chasing the taste of himself on Tommy’s tongue so ardently that they end up tipping to the side, Tommy sprawled on the floor while Buck kisses him like a starving man.
Tommy’s grinning when the kiss finally breaks. “Guess you liked that, then?” he teases, chest heaving against Buck’s.
“I really liked it,” Buck confirms, rolling his hips just to hear the way Tommy’s breath hisses between his teeth when Buck’s spent cock drags against his still-hard one. “I - I want to try. Can I?”
Tommy’s eyes are dark as he nods, pulling Buck in for another kiss before Buck wriggles backward. It starts out almost-familiar, moving down his partner’s body, but he’s quickly reminded that this is new. He takes a moment to explore, to touch and tease with mouth and fingers, but he’s got a goal. It only takes a minute to unbuckle Tommy’s belt, and Buck hooks his fingers in pants and underwear alike, pulling both off in one go before he pauses, getting his first really good look at a cock that isn’t his, and isn’t in a porn video.
He knows what a dick looks like, obviously, but Buck’s never touched another one before. His hand moves almost of its own volition, wrapping around Tommy’s cock. The skin is warm and soft, heavy in Buck’s hand, and he strokes once, carefully, and glances up when Tommy makes a noise, one hand resting on Buck’s shoulder.
“Little firmer grasp,” he murmurs, smiling when Buck follows the direction without thinking about it. “Little more - that’s it. Long, slow strokes, baby; don’t want to come just yet.”
Buck nods, looking down as he strokes Tommy’s cock, a little fascinated with the way his foreskin moves over the head as Buck moves his hand. He varies the pace, keeps an ear out for Tommy’s reactions, and finally, he can’t stand it anymore -
He ducks his head, mouth open, and slides his lips over the head of Tommy’s cock.
Tommy lets out a shuddering breath above his head, but Buck can barely hear it for the rushing in his ears. He’s actually got his mouth on a cock, and it -
It’s different, really different, from eating out a woman, but Buck’s always enjoyed using his mouth. It only takes a moment to figure out how to tuck his teeth behind his lips, how to use his tongue to get things wet. Tommy’s making some really damn encouraging noises, and Buck pulls back, then pushes forward again, losing himself to the slide of Tommy’s cock on his tongue -
And then he moans when he feels Tommy’s hand in his hair, grip tight and pulling Buck off. Buck whines, disappointment and arousal both; Tommy’s grinning at him when Buck glares up at him. “What was that for?” he complains, shivering at the way his voice is already a little scratchy.
“Don’t want you to gag yourself,” Tommy says, the grip in Buck’s hair shifting, turning into a gentle caress. “We’ve got time, Evan.”
Buck’s eyes fall closed as he takes a breath, makes the tense line of his shoulders relax as he lets Tommy’s reassurance sink in; this isn’t a hookup in the engine or a bar bathroom, it isn’t squeezing sex in like it's one more chore to be done before they fall asleep. He can take his time, figure out how to do this right.
“Okay,” he says, opening his eyes to see Tommy watching him with a soft expression. “Alright, I’ll - go slow.”
“Good,” Tommy hums, fingers carding through Buck’s hair. Buck leans into the touch for a moment before turning his attention back to Tommy’s cock, spit-slick and shiny. His own mouth is watering, and he doesn’t waste time before getting his mouth back on Tommy’s cock, though he is mindful about how much he takes. He can feel the stretch in the corner of his mouth, can feel how Tommy’s hips twitch as Buck pulls back, trying to follow him.
Buck experiments with the rhythm, finding something that works for him, working the length of Tommy’s cock that doesn’t fit in his mouth with his hand instead, using his other to drag his nails over Tommy’s thigh, catching on the coarse hair there before he slides his hand in, following the soft skin of Tommy’s inner thigh until he can cup Tommy’s balls in his hand. Tommy swears above him, and Buck, encouraged, does what he likes; he rolls his hand, a careful massage, and Tommy’s swearing picks up a new urgency, the hand in Buck’s hair tightening, pulling.
Buck goes with the tug, and he’s barely gotten his mouth off of Tommy’s cock before Tommy comes, cock twitching in Buck’s hand as his hips work, thrusting into Buck’s fist as Tommy’s head falls back. The sound he makes when he comes is captivating, and Buck decides he wants to hear it a lot more as Tommy slumps against the floor, chest heaving as he catches his breath, hand falling from where he’d been gripping Buck’s shoulder.
He gives Buck a smile when Buck catches his eye, and Buck returns it - but then his attention is caught by his hand, by the string of come over his fingers. He eyes it thoughtfully, but - well. He’s always been curious, and that clearly still applies here, because he’s barely thought, I wonder - before he’s bringing his hand to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean.
It’s… odd, he decides. Not exactly unpleasant, but definitely a different taste than Buck was expecting.
He realizes Tommy’s propped himself up on his elbows and is watching Buck avidly after a moment, and offers Tommy a sheepish smile. “Sorry, got distracted.”
Tommy laughs, but it’s not mean; it’s warm, and curls around Buck’s heart like a scarf. “At least you didn’t get distracted in the middle of it,” he teases, sitting up properly and reaching out to pull Buck closer, ducking in to kiss Buck slow and heady. “So - thoughts?”
“I want to do that again,” Buck says, mouth moving without his permission or conscious input. “All of it.”
Tommy grins, one arm winding around Buck’s waist, his other hand moving to cup Buck’s chin, thumb resting in the dimple there. “I think that could be arranged.”