Chapter Text
The thing is, Tim likes Dale.
He knows not everyone does. His nervous energy and constant need to please tends to grate on people's nerves after a time, and he’s not exactly the most socially adept guy even he does get his anxiety under control.
But Tim likes him. Has ever since the very first day, when Dale had shaken his hand a little too enthusiastically before launching into a rapid spiel about the piece they had to film, and immediately followed it up with a panic attack.
It wasn’t exactly a meet-cute.
Still, something about Dale drew him in, and despite Tim’s promise to himself that he wasn’t going to mess around with straight boys anymore, his interest had quickly bloomed into a full-blown crush. Nothing that he ever planned on acting upon, just the kind that had him inviting Dale for a beer with the guys sometimes, or telling himself that he’d only put his hands on Dale’s broad shoulders to calm him down before a live cross.
Except then it became clear Dale wasn’t straight after all, and for one stupid, wonderful moment, high on adrenaline and the exhaustion of a long day, he’d let himself have what he wanted.
Which, unsurprisingly, ended with everything going to shit and Tim writing a resignation letter. His new job is confined entirely to a studio filming a particularly vacuous talk show. Safe and boring, just like the rest of his life.
Well, almost all of it.
People can say what they like about Dale, but the boy sure can kiss. It’s even better like this, tangled in the sheets of Tim’s bed with Dale’s shirt half open and his hips stuttering helplessly against Tim’s.
“Off, off-” Tim pants into his mouth, inelegantly shoving his shirt off his shoulders and leaving Dale to untangle himself as he rises on his knees to yank his own shirt over his head.
He immediately overbalances, which is fine, because it means he can get out of his jeans and underwear too, and he’s just kicking them away when he notices Dale has gone horribly still.
“Ah.” Dale says, eloquent as always.
So they’ve never actually gotten naked together before, and that’s a thing he probably should have remembered before stripping off. Come to think of it, he’s not totally sure Dale’s ever been naked with another man, and their history of a few quick handjobs when Dale turns up to his door and begs for his hands on his body don’t suddenly make that less of a big deal.
Tim’s fairly sure his usual move of teasing Dale about being a natural redhead will only work so many times, and this probably isn’t one of them.
“Dale? You still with me?”
He makes a strangled noise, looking up at Tim with a wide-eyed expression that has no right to be as sexy as it is. Then his gaze wanders, down the planes of his chest and stomach, and yep- Dale’s staring at his dick. Considering it’s one of the parts of Tim he has actually seen before, it’s a surprising choice, but then again, Dale has always been very goal-oriented.
“I want-” he starts, stopping to swallow and forcing his gaze back up to Tim’s face before the words spill out in a single rush of breath. “Iwantyouonme.”
Let it never be said that Tim isn’t a giving person. In fact, he’s all for this idea, and even more so when Dale reaches down to unbuckle his own belt and lets him yank his trousers and underwear off his hips.
“Oh fuck me.” Tim breathes. For one, Dale is stupidly, ridiculously well built, all broad shoulders and long lines down to a trim waist, and it’s an absolute tragedy all of this is hidden away under his shapeless suits. For another, he’s hard already, enough to be leaking where his dick is pressed against his abs, and it’s the prettiest damn thing Tim has ever seen.
The smear across his belly glints in the soft light of the lamp and Dale watches him warily, pupils blown so wide he can hardly see any of the blue left.
It’s a fucking terrible idea, but Tim can’t always be the responsible one, and before he’s even fully aware he’s decided to do it, he’s kneeling over Dale, and leaning in to drag his tongue through the mess.
“Oh my god.” Dale whimpers above him, accompanied by the soft thud of his head hitting the pillows, and he tastes like the early morning waves off Brighton Beach.
“You got tested right?” Tim asks somewhat hysterically, trying to think about anything besides how badly he wants to put his mouth back on Dale.
“Huh?”
“Tell me you got tested. You’re clean?” He’d been sure to have that conversation while they were both fully dressed and sober, and pressed its importance no less than four seperate times in the following days. If Dale says no he might just cry.
Dale nods quickly, back up on his elbows now with the stall in progress. “Yeah. Yes. I’m clean, I- ah-!”
The noise he makes as Tim licks a stripe up his cock is enough to send shivers down his spine. He wants more.
Getting it, it turns out, is ridiculously easy.
Dale is pliant under his hands, letting him manhandle him into position, legs slung over his shoulders. There’s just something about being squeezed tight between a man’s thighs as he works him over with his mouth, and Dale has such lovely toned thighs.
Dale whines as he laves attention on his dick, kissing from the base to the swollen head and humming happily as he sucks it between his lips. He tastes salt again, working his tongue against the slit and over the sensitive crown, and feeling a hand hover at the base of his skull, tentative.
The wet pop as Tim pulls off sounds obscene, and the look on Dale’s face is appropriately wrecked. “You can pull my hair if you want.” He grins, feeling his hand settling against the back of his neck, fingers twisting into the long strands. “Promise I’ll like it”
He works his way down slowly, letting Dale enjoy every last inch until he’s hovering on the knife’s edge of what his gag reflex will allow. The hand in his hair tightens, and he pauses a moment, waiting, hoping-
Gently, Dale’s hand pulls. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make an inch or so of cock slip from his mouth before Dale’s hips cant forward, already chasing the wet heat again. A ragged groan tears from his throat, and Tim hums in satisfaction, letting Dale use his mouth as he pleases.
It goes on like that for a good few minutes before he feels Dale shift, hears the sharp catch of his breath, and looks up to meet his wide, dark eyes.
He wonders how he looks to Dale, grinding against the mattress and drooling around his dick like it’s his favourite taste in the world. Maybe it is. Top ten at least.
He hopes Dale likes what he sees. And he must, because it’s barely thirty seconds before his eyes flutter closed, and Tim feels the muscle in his thighs tense, the gentle shudder that passes over him, and the low moan before-
His mouth floods with salt and he swallows eagerly, chasing the taste and sucking another spurt from Dale before he whimpers with over-sensitivity, pushing at his shoulders to make him stop.
Everything gets a little hazy after that. He looks up at Dale, takes in his mussed hair and flushed cheeks, the way his lips are bitten red and his eyes are so, so bright. He’s never seen him so undone before, it makes him feel feral.
He’s already painfully close, and once he crawls up Dale’s body and gets his cock aligned with the delicious hollow between his hip and belly, he knows it’ll be over fast.
“You are so fucking gorgeous-” He groans into Dale’s mouth, swallowing down the tremulous noise he makes upon tasting his own spend on Tim’s tongue. He feels his fingers dig into his back, an arm wrapping around one shoulder to hold him close. A knee bumping his ribs as he ruts against him and finally comes, shuddering, in long streaks up his belly to his chest.
It’s Dale’s hand, stroking a long line up his side, that brings him back to reality, warm and satisfied in the afterglow of truly excellent sex. He’s boneless, draped halfway across him, legs tangled together and his face buried in the sweaty crook of Dale’s neck.
“Was that… was it good?” He hears, and it’s endearingly innocent, coming from the guy who still has Tim’s come smeared across his abs.
Tim hasn’t been a virgin, in any sense of the word, for a long time. Not that it means anything, since virginity is a worthless heterosexual concept anyway, but he’s aware that for most people, first times mean something. Especially for someone like Dale.
“Perfect.” He says softly, running a hand across his flank, soothing him like one might a spooked horse. “This was great. You were great.”
“Yeah?” Dale asks, and when Tim shifts to look at him properly, His expression is unreadable, but he doesn’t have the familiar look of panic yet, and his breathing is still relatively even. He smiles shyly under the scrutiny, pulse picking up under Tim’s fingers.
“Yeah.” He whispers back, kissing him softly and feeling Dale’s hands slide up to experimentally tug at his hair again. Quick learner, that one.
They’re quiet for a long time, trading lazy kisses and a few giggles as Tim runs his fingers through the mess on Dale’s belly and accidentally discovers he’s ticklish. He’s just drifting on the edge of sleep when Dale shifts and makes a noise in his throat, something clearly on his mind.
“Tim?”
“Mmm?” He cracks an eye open, taking in the way Dale’s chewing his lip and feeling heavy inside at the knowledge that he doesn’t get to keep this. Soon enough Dale will run away again, consumed with shame until the next time the need overwhelms him. And Tim, idiot that he is, will keep letting him in. Dale may hate himself for needing it, but not enough to stop.
“Um. I was wondering-” He’s struggling out the words, and that more than anything wakes Tim up. How this man can so confidently sit at a desk and deliver the news in that voice that makes all the housewives of Victoria swoon, and still struggle with simple questions in the privacy of Tim’s bedroom, is a mystery.
“What is it?” He asks, hearing the slight raspiness to his voice, over-eager cock sucking finally catching up to him. Dale looks at him with wide eyes, licking his lips and swallowing, having apparently noticed the same.
“Did you- did you like it? Doing that?”
It’s a moment before it clicks into place, what exactly Dale’s asking.
“What, sucking your cock?” He asks, enjoying the way the crudeness makes Dale blush and squirm. He doesn’t seem to be able to respond, but the raw curiosity on his face is answer enough. “Course I liked it. Thought that was kind of obvious.” He gestures to the drying remains of his enjoyment on Dale’s skin.
Dale blinks in surprise. “Oh.”
Tim can tell where this is going. “You might like it too, if you ever wanted to try.” He says casually, noting that Dale somehow turns even redder.
“And you… would like that?” He answers slowly, voice thick with curiosity. Tim can practically see the gears turning in his head. He groans, shifting so he’s draped entirely over Dale’s body, the mess be damned. He’s not letting him get away from it.
“Dale, anything you want to try with me, I promise I’ll like it. Because you’re doing it.”
That earns a smile, a soft, shy thing that begs to be kissed, so he does. Dale is still very good at it, and Tim has no doubt at all those lips would be perfectly lovely put to other uses too, if he ever works his way up to it.
“I mean… maybe? Next time.” Dale murmurs against his lips, fingers curled in his hair. “Can’t promise it’d be any good, but…”
Tim wonders how often he’ll need to repeat himself, as if anything Dale could do would be any less than perfect. The poor thing doesn’t even seem to have realised the effect he has on Tim yet, that he couldn’t say no anymore even if he wanted to, that he’s probably more than a little bit in love with him. His head might explode if Tim told him that though.
Instead, he settles for a smaller truth. “I like you. No matter what you want to do, or not do.”
Dale smiles into his lips, and for now, he’s not running anywhere.