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stupidfuckingwindow · 1 year ago

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Three's company // Holland March, Jackson Healy.

Word count: 1.5k

Content/Warnings: NSFW, Holland cums a lot. Gets romantic real fast. Takes place after an upcoming fic. Slight crack in the beginning, emotional at the end.

Big thanks to @hoppingonjim for writing Jackson Healy fics. He just does something to my mind and I need him, I fear. I love their fics, go check them out. I reread their stuff to help me with writing my own version of Healy.

It's barely been thirty minutes and Holland's already cum twice, flecks of white splattered onto his chest. (And, by God, listen when I fucking tell you that it's an absurd amount of cum, Jesus CHRIST.) His suit- the blue and orange one you like so much- is nothing short of a disheveled mess, and his hair is in a similar state of disarray. At this point, it seems like Holland is having the most fun between you and his partner, despite the fact he's barely even been touched. Despite that fact, he's literally panting.

Going back to his made mess of cumming, he'd actually managed to get both you and Healy, who's a good enough distance away that you could almost consider Holland's unorthodox ability impressive. No matter how surprising that little idea seems to be, Jackson sure isn't impressed.

"We've barely even taken off your damn clothes," he tells Holland. He isn't given a response that's coherent, just a loud 'Fuck!' from March when his hips jolt upwards at the feeling of your hand wrapped around his cock. And, even with that, your grip is relatively light and Holland is doing all the work, fucking into your hand again like countless nights before this. The cigarette hanging from his mouth is on the verge of leaving him, just barely managing to stay between his lips.

Jackson mutters something under his breath along the lines of "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," before he's tugging off Holland's suit jacket for him and starting to peel clothes off the older man. Even though he seems annoyed at best and irritated at worst, the erection straining against his jeans tells you that he's anything but.

..Maybe a little annoyed, definitely frustrated- You know that for sure.

You're in a similar state of arousal, heat having simmered in your lower half. But you and Healy had simultaneously and wordlessly agreed that it'd be best if you dealt with Holland before helping one another out. The only problem now is that Holland is still hard, still going, and is making such a racket that you're sure someone'll be at your door to complain in the early hours.

In an attempt to start pulling off the rest of Holland's clothes, the P.I. starts to grind his cock against your still clothed hips, letting out a low moan. His head falls back, eyes squeezing shut and making the skin around his nose scrunch up when he accidentally hits the back of his head too hard.

It takes you a minute, but you finally slide his boxers and dress pants off of him, haphazardly tossing the articles of clothing to the floor. His hips shift a little, legs moving to trap you between his thighs and keep you there. You squeeze the base of his cock in a positive response, and another curse leaves Holland. His whole body jumps in its attempt to seek more pleasure out of your grasp.

There's already pre-cum starting to collect on the head of his dick, pooling down your knuckles and onto your thighs that rest beneath him. More leaks out and spreads over your fingers, and your thumb brushes over the sensitive tip.

But you've already paid enough attention to Holland, you think. Your grip loosens around him, but you keep it there. Still, your attention switches to Healy (who's much more patient than you'd given him credit for, in all honesty). His focus is on you, too. Interest in those blues of his that you find to be lighter than Holland's. It's a subtle detail, but one to still be noticed and kept in mind for whatever reason. It's not important, it shouldn't be, but it is, to you, and you don't know why.

With your free hand, you wipe away a little of Holland's ejaculate from his face and bring your lips to his. Something new pokes through his usual exterior, surprise at your movements. He doesn't make any move to pull away or resist or even hesitate, his tongue against yours. You doubt he's been touched in a while. You think he'd admitted it himself to you, once, but you can't exactly recall.

Not like this, with Holland fucking your hand and his enforcer of a partner kissing you. In your home, because Holland didn't have the patience to drive to his place. Because Holland had wanted this now, with you and Jackson and no one else.

And, now that you think about it, Holland hasn't been touched in a while either. He's pent up, has been for a while, ever since his wife passed.

But, even knowing that he could have picked someone else, he didn't. He knows you, he chose you. And, even if he's not yet ready to say 'I love you', yet, you know he does. Some part of him cares, bothers enough to still talk to you. And it makes you feel wanted, even if this is a somewhat unconventional pairing, you and Holland and Jackson.

Even Jackson seems to care, as you two finally part for air. He's paid to protect, but that's not what this is anymore. It's unconditional at this point.

There's a faint string of saliva still connecting you and him when your attention turns back to Holland. And you were so lost in thought and the feeling, that he'd cum again unnoticed, large cock finally going soft in your hand while he gasps for air. "Jesus," You hear him mutter, to himself, see his eyes flutter shut. You let him go, leave him to curl on his side and sleepily mumble to himself about indecipherable nonsense.

You and Jackson are on one another pretty quickly, still a little slower and shy with one another as you get a feel for what the two of you even want to do. The two of you are still covered in Holland's release, but it's not a problem. The most it gets in the way is in the form of a taste between the two of your tongues, adding a tang of salt.

Your clothes are off before his, warm hands embracing your hips to pull you further against him while you work on undressing him. Your hand slips into the front of his jeans, pumping slow strokes up the length of his cock. He groans into your lips, hands squeezing your hips a little at the feeling.

And, just as the attention had just been stuck on Holland, now it's on you.

Another set of hands join your hips from behind; Holland is up again, already. Jesus Christ. And he's already hard, grinding his erection against your ass while he whispers praise into your bare shoulder. Kisses trail the back of your neck, and you feel his hair tickle the side of your face. His breath is hot on your shoulder, naked body flush against yours. His scent is cigarettes and peppery cologne that he can't even smell.

"You're so good for us," He quietly tells you, nose buried in your shoulder while he rocks his hips against yours. The movement pushes you slightly against Healy, as well, pleasure shared between everyone involved. Thick fingers stroke at your hips soothingly, passion exchanged for a quiet, calm moment. It's less like the heavy, heated tension of arousal and more similar to the sweet focus of romance, only heightened by Holland's sweet kisses that are peppered across your skin.

Healy takes a second to remove the rest of his clothes, leaving you in his partner's embrace and care. But his presence is drawn close again, bringing back warmth to your front.

Holland shifts you and himself so that your legs will wrap around Jackson's waist, and his head moves to your other shoulder, chin resting in the crook of your neck. He kneads loving circles into your right thigh, keeping your legs open for his partner. Two of Healy's fingers slide into your cunt, thumb pressing against your clit. His eyes switch between your face to his fingers, watching how they move in and out of your wet centre.

As Healy fucks you on his fingers, Holland's free hand traces little shapes and patterns into your skin, his eyes fluttering shut. He's still tired, no doubt, but it doesn't matter more to him than this does.

Every side of you is warm, seen and touched and handled with care.

And when the tip of Healy's cock finally pushes past your folds, Holland's praise is just as unwavering. His kisses are slow and deliberate, matching in perfect timing with each drag of Jackson's hips against yours. Holland's arms wrap around your torso, practically radiating warmth into your skin that settles along your body.

"I love you," Holland finally admits, long after you and Healy have cummed together. Once the three of you had finally curled into bed together and Holland and Jackson held you. Long after the lights had turned off. And it's a confession that matters, to you. One telling the truth. He's fully sober as he says it. And even if Healy is asleep and no one but you can hear it, it's a step in the right direction.

#ryan gosling #n.sfw.#ryan gosling x reader #holland march #the nice guys 2016 #the nice guys #holland march smut #holland march x reader #russell crowe x reader #russell crowe #jackson healy smut #jackson healy #jackson healy x reader

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ken-dom · 1 year ago

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Forever

Holland March x Jackson Healy

500 words

A short, smutty, tender drabble in which Holland discovers he’s messy in yet another area.

Author’s notes: inspired by @hollandstrophyhusband giving Holland the cute pet name ‘Sir Cumsalot’

Warnings/content: nsfw, frotting, crying, Holland being klutzy and mildly panicking, smoking, a lot of cum

Holland thought Jackson was beautiful like this, or at least he would think so if his every thought hadn’t been clouded with that delicious haze of pleasure Jackson had brought on so unexpectedly easily.

They came at the same time, panting, red faced, foreheads pressed together, lengths squeezed close inside Jackson’s pumping fist.

After a drawn out, guttural cry that vibrated through Jackson’s entire being, Holland glanced down, eager to see the mess they’d made between them as it pooled, thick and hot, on his stomach.

‘You didn’t cum?’ Holland whined, voice high and shaky as though he might cry at the thought.

Jackson needed a moment before he could speak, chest heaving and mind still very much connected to his dick rather than his brain.

‘I came, Holland, Jesus Christ,’ he breathed gruffly, mouth pulling up into a smug grin as he too gazed down at their creamy seed combined on Holland’s perfect body. ‘See, I came a normal amount, you came… I don’t know, ten times that? Is it always like that when you… y’know?’ He gestured a crude motion with his fist.

‘What?!’ Holland exclaimed, head shooting up off the pillow to try and look closer, and head-butting Jackson in the process, who simply closed his eyes and waited for Holland to catch up.

‘You’re telling me it’s not like that for everyone?’

Jackson chuckled. ‘Alright, Sir Cumsalot, time to clean you up,’ he huffed, amused, and climbed off Holland to find a towel.

‘You’re telling me this is abnormal?’ Holland squeaked. ‘Shit. Do you think I need to see someone about it?’

‘And say what? I cum ten times more than my boyfr- than… than other guys?’

‘Well, shit, yeah I guess!’

Jackson took a steadying breath. Either Holland hadn’t noticed or didn’t mind. And any of the two options were fine by him.

‘No I don’t think you need to do that. But I do think I need to make it happen a lot more often because… wow.’

Holland relaxed back on the bed, running a trembling hand through his tousled golden locks, the other reaching for a cigarette.

Jackson returned to Holland's side and gently wiped up the evidence of their passion from Holland’s belly. His eyes were fixed on the downward direction of that gorgeous happy trail, only distracted by his deliciously sharp hip bones and how he’d like to feel them digging into his flesh.

Holland sighed and Jackson snapped his head back up.

‘Hey, does it feel good?’ he asked bluntly.

‘Yeah,’ Holland breathed, puffing out a long stream of smoke. ‘Lasts for almost too long, like it’s never gonna end, but it’s bliss so I kinda don’t want it to. And then after I feel so… so…’

‘Sated?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Wanna do it again?’

‘Yep!’

‘Insatiable. I knew you’d be fucking insatiable the moment I laid eyes on you,’ Jackson mumbled, shaking his head, his voice laced with a lust he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Holland hastily stubbed out the remainder of his cigarette on the bedside table and pulled Jackson back down on top of him for a bruising kiss, the damp towel dropping to the floor.

Healy’s cheek turned suspiciously wet but he didn’t break the kiss to see if Holland was really crying.

‘And again, and again, and again,’ Holland muttered against his partner’s curling lips, ‘forever.’

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messymortician · 6 months ago

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Until You Give It Up

Jackson Healy x Holland March

Description: Healy wants to hit it from behind, Holland is slightly apprehensive. Who would have guessed?

Content Warnings: NSFW 18+, brief angst, alcohol, smoking, anal fingering, anal sex, cum eating, established relationship

Word Count: 6,531

AO3

A/N: Title is inspired by a song!

For Jackson Healy loving never came easy, no matter how hard he tried or didn’t try. And to his surprise, it wasn’t just a problem with June. It turns out he simply wasn’t wired to love, let alone be loved. He was never all that great at remembering anniversaries or buying flowers, or remembering to switch the laundry over. He was never one to dish out affection or compromise in any situation—the typical relationship qualities—but that all came to a screeching halt when Holland came barreling into life. Or maybe it’s the other way around? Regardless, there are countless days when Healy thinks that all is doomed, that Holland and himself are destined to crash and burn, and sometimes he’s right. Sometimes.

Day in and day out, Healy’s patience is pushed to the limit, and yet he’s come to almost cherish it. Over the past couple of months, Holland has been reforming Jackson’s tendencies, with little to no resistance on the latter’s part. He’s learned how to strip Jackson’s wires down the shiny copper and remove the protective rubber coating, abandoning all caution in the tedious process. With more patience than is known to him, he’s taken those delicate wires and spliced them back together.

There have been a few cases where the wiring was faulty, unbeknownst to him, and resulted in him getting shocked. The most recent time though, Holland could hardly believe what he was witnessing. It started with an innocent eye-roll, and looking back on it, he doesn’t even recall doing it, let alone with an intending purpose. But in Jackson’s argument, it proved to be the pinnacle of the conflict. Well, not necessarily the rolling of the eyes but the lack of concern, if Holland remembers accurately. He wasn’t intentionally being harmful or careless, but then again, he’s never all that careful in the first place. It’s a predicament, really, one that he’s trying to work on.

Holly had stormed through the dimly lit kitchen, backpack and blonde waves swinging over her shoulder as she stomped down the hallway. Her door slammed shut with a thud that rattled the sparsely placed picture frames on the walls.

Holland had turned to his partner, an unimpressed grimace on his reddened face as he asked, “What the hell is her fucking problem?”

For a long moment, Jackson stood with his back to Holland, mulling over the appropriate way to go about this conversation. Or maybe it was a confrontation. Anyway, Healy eventually turned around, his solid hands curled into fists at his sides. He took a few shallow breaths, his hair falling into his icy blue eyes as he crowded into the other man's personal space, the tips of their shoes now brushing together.

"You. You're her goddamn problem, Holland," Healy spat. His hand connected with Holland's chest and shoved him back a few steps. For a split second, the blonde simply laughed, a nervous chuckle erupting from his sore throat. He stood frozen in place with his hands at his sides, shaking his head in disbelief. "What? This is funny to you?" Healy pressed further, irritation building under his normally relaxed surface.

And that's when Holland miscalculated his next move. The eye-roll. From there, it developed into a full-fledged screaming match, "one for the books," as Holly says. Since then, Holland has picked up Holly from every school event and every sleepover, even getting there ten minutes early if he can allow it.

Jackson prides himself on being a relatively levelheaded guy, only known to flip his lid on the odd occasion, but Holland has found any and every way to break through that barrier of patience, the same way he did that one night. He makes a conscious effort to ease up on him at times, knowing that it’s part of Holland’s nature. And he isn’t keen on the idea of changing that kind of wiring in his partner. Some things are better left alone, but he’s never been great at that. Every once in a blue moon, something does manage to get under his skin; it eats and tears away until he gets a grip, taking care of his problems like he normally does—a fist to a face or swinging an elbow at someone. This problem has him stumped though, through and through. He catches himself considering it during the day, and he lies awake at night next to a sound asleep Holland, wondering how he can bring it up in an unsuspecting manner.

—

“Yeah, so, I finally get close enough to peek through the dude’s window, and god bless me, he’s on the bed fucking that girl’s poor sister. And I mean, like, fucking, Jack. He was completely dogging her!” Holland exclaims, his eyes lighting up in that familiar way when he’s telling a good story. Healy has to suppress a laugh at the man’s choice of words, chewing and swallowing his bite of chicken before he takes a drink of his water.

“Wow, I bet that wasn’t on your bingo card for this year, huh?” He chuckles, his hands smoothing over the tabletop as he looks up at Holland. The other man shrugs and wipes his mouth with a napkin, shaking his head as he thinks for a moment.

“Well, you never know. There are some pros in this line of work..”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right in that sense. I’m not sure ‘dogging’ is the correct choice of words though, Holl.”

“What do you mean?” Holland asks, his fork lazily scraping around on the mostly empty plate.

“Well, I think dogging means like, stalking someone, right? So, you mean he was fucking her from behind, on all fours. I think it’s a bit different,” Healy explains, finishing his thoughts with a half-committed shrug. “Have you ever done it before?”

“Hmm, no. I don’t think I ever have, truthfully.”

“Really? That was always June’s favorite position—something about not having to look at me or whatever. It's been forever though,” Healy says feigning nonchalance in his tone. The notion had really bothered him in the past, but he’s grown to face it over a period of time. Mostly accept it, at least he thinks.

Holland winces at the thought of it, a quiet groan escaping his lips. He shakes his head once, his fingers releasing their hold on the tumbler of half-drank whiskey. For a moment, they lock eyes, both of their forks stilling as they stare at each other. It’s not necessarily a tense silence, but Jackson does let out a sigh of relief when the other man begins talking again.

“Alright, if it’s what you want. Y’know, I would prefer to look at you, watch you. It heightens the experience and all that,” Holland mumbles, his eyes cast downward at the wooden tabletop littered with light scratches from use.

Healy nods as he chews and swallows his last bite, pushing his plate a few inches towards the center of the table. His eyes flick up, taking in Holland’s slouched form at the other end of the table. How in the world did he come to that remark? Healy hadn't even suggested it outright; he just mentioned it. Well, Holland is always full of surprises, sometimes occupied with an abundance of them.

The blonde’s words hang in the air between them as Jackson scoots his chair from the table, standing and collecting his plate before gesturing out to the other man.

“Are you finished?” Healy asks, depositing his dirty dish in the sink and returning to grab Holland’s.

“Yeah, thanks,” Holland whispers quietly as he digs in his pocket for his lighter, an unreadable expression painted on his face.

Jackson doesn’t bring it up again for another week.

—

It’s a warm Friday night, nice enough to crack the patio door, letting in the breeze and the chirping of crickets. The rental is mostly quiet aside from the buzz of the TV, which makes Holly’s absence painfully evident. Generally, she brings about all of the noise and energy, but Holland welcomes the relaxation every once in a while, which is why he agreed to let her go to Jessica’s house for a sleepover. Upon returning home from dropping her off, Holland was welcomed with dinner. Healy insisted on cooking, not only because he enjoys it but because Holland doesn’t eat nearly as well as he should. So they ate, sharing a few notable moments from their day and also discussing the newest developments on their latest case, the weird-old-guy-fucking-that-girl's-sister-case. Anyway, the night progressed on as normal, the pair basking in their newfound privacy and enjoying one another's company.

At present, the two detectives find themselves nearly embedded into the cushions of the sage green sofa, their shoulders mere inches apart, knees knocking in moments of fleeting chuckles at the television. The show is neither too interesting nor boring, so Holland is filling the air with his usual commentary, something Healy has grown accustomed to over the past few months of their developing relationship.

A giggle comes from the right of Jackson, followed by, “That looks kinda fun, huh?”

And at that Healy balks, eyes wide and jaw dropped open, his gaze directed at Holland's unsuspecting grin. Did he hear what he thinks he just heard? He looks away to focus back on the TV, which is also a wrong move based on the events unfolding on screen. The lighting of the scene is a bit shotty, but not so much that he can't make out the two main characters entwined on the bed, the female lead rising to get on all fours.

Despite the cool air drafting through the house, he can feel blood rushing to his cheeks, the back of his neck beginning to prickle with a burning sensation. His eyes slip shut for a moment, but it does nothing to silence the progressive moaning that echoes from the speakers adjacent to them. He simply shrugs, the words tunneling from his brain getting caught in the dryness of his throat. Holland sneaks a glance at the man beside him before raising his glass to his lips. He downs the rest of the amber cognac, the burn soothing his throat. A few moments pass by as the pair tune back into the program broadcasting from the lit screen. Although neither one of them are truly watching it, both too absorbed in their own thoughts to process anything else.

Another minute ticks by until Jackson breaks the tense silence. “So..can I?”

Holland’s lighter clatters down to the floor with a thud, skidding and bouncing under the plush sofa. His head snaps up, eyes searching as his mind tries to catch up with what Jackson has brought to him for a second time now.

“What? Can you what?” He asks, his fingers trembling slightly as he inhales a slow drag from his now-lit cigarette. His back pops as he surges forward off the couch, his shirt rising up his back as his hand wildly pats under the furniture for his Zippo. The cool metal connects with his fingertips and he sighs, pocketing the item in his shirt before turning to look at the man beside him, his expression nearly indecipherable. Jackson shifts uncomfortably on the couch, stretching his legs out in front of him before glancing to his right. At the sight before him, he almost wishes he hadn’t mentioned it. But he can’t bring himself to feel that guilty, because why should he? He's allowed to have his own wants and desires, vices, if you could even call it that.

Healy nearly chokes, his left hand gesturing through the tense air as he wills his mind to work, say anything.

“Nothing, nothing.” He finally manages, his hands fumbling with the remote in his lap as he keeps his sight on the TV. And it ends with that, much to his relief and dismay. They remain on the couch for a little while longer until Holland’s head falls heavy on his shoulder. Healy struggles as he picks him up, his back crying in protest, but manages to stumble through the darkened hallway, trying his best to avoid any obstacles. They make it to the bedroom in one piece, thankfully, and Healy deposits Holland onto their neatly made bed, putting him and the night to rest. Next time, he thinks—next time for sure.

—

“So, what did you think of the ending?” Holland asks, his arm hanging limply over the edge of the bed as he flicks his burnt cigarette butt into the ashtray. He sits forward off the pillows, pulling at the hem of his orange-patterned shirt and lifting it over his head. It lands somewhere near the hamper—something to be dealt with in the morning.

“Yeah, I thought it was fine,” Healy says with a thoughtful nod. Truth be told, he couldn’t even remember the name of the film that they had gone to see earlier that night. He was reluctant to go, but Holland had insisted, 'date night.'

The blonde man nods in agreement, downing the rest of his whiskey before settling back onto the pillow propped against the headboard. He rubs the back of his hand over his eyes before looking up. His eyes track Jackson's movement as he climbs onto the bed next to him, a lock of hair falling out of place and onto his creased forehead.

Healy pauses, his hand slowly trailing down and over the sharp jut of Holland’s exposed hips, slightly pushing down the clothing that remains. He crowds closer over the smaller man, holding his weight up on his arms. An amused look crosses March’s face, a curious twinkle in his glassy blue eyes. His hand cups Healy’s stubbled chin, drawing him in for a slow kiss. It’s sweet at first, gentle and unrushed, their lips grazing one another repeatedly in a series of short pecks. Then, Jackson’s tongue slides across Holland’s lip, almost as a question. The response is a head tilt accompanied by a sly grin, typical of March.

Healy urges the man under him to lay on his side, breaking their connected lips. A thin strand of saliva hangs between them until Holland's tongue glides over his bottom lip, breaking the bond. Jackson pulls away slowly and is met with shiny blue orbs; although they're mostly black now, the cerulean color only a thin rim around Holland's pupils. He takes a deep, steadying breath, gazing over the red irritation that surrounds his partner's eyes. Holland whines softly, a frown forming on his kissed-out lips, shiny and full, a pretty shade of pink.

“What are you doing?” He inquires, Healy twisting him further until he’s chest down on the soft bedsheets, finally. A large, calloused hand comes down on Holland’s back, pressing just hard enough to prevent him from turning around. His struggles cease, but another whimper comes, louder this time, as he cants his hips into the bedding.

“Jack, come on. Don't you think we're a little too old for this?" Holland mumbles into the pillow, his hips falling into a pathetically slow rhythm as he grinds his half-hard dick into the bed. Healy ignores the stalling, his hands finding new purchase on the waistband of March's khakis.

"Aren't you a little old to be whining like a child?" Healy retorts with an eyeroll, but luckily it's out of Holland's peripherals. "Do you remember what we talked about the other day, hmm?" Healy asks, his hands dragging painfully slow over the smooth skin of Holland's lower back.

"Hmm, no. You should know better than to tell me anything relatively important after dinner, especially dessert," Holland says, half mocking the other man's condescending tone.

Jackson simply hums as his fingers trail down Holland’s neck, tracing the outline of a prominent vein. He leans down, his chest inching closer to the smaller man's shoulder blades. Another slow inhale, and he’s taking in the deep, rich smell of Holland's cologne while simultaneously calming his nerves. Maybe he should have accepted that glass of Jameson, he thinks. It’s a little late for that though; he’s fully committed to fulfilling that nagging desire in the back of his mind, hopefully.

Holland's next complaint brings the pair back to the scorching reality of their positioning. The larger man's thighs now bracket Holland's narrow hips, squeezing him just tight enough to keep him from arching his back or making a move to escape.

"This is borderline assault, man. Think about what you're doing." Holland sighs, visibly deflating as he realizes that this, what Healy is enforcing, isn't ending anytime soon.

"S'not assault if you like it, and I have thought about this. Thought about it all week, been thinking about you all week." Healy punctuates with a warm kiss to the nape of Holland's neck, pulling away only to place light, open-mouthed kisses down the outline of his stubbly jaw. The smaller man keens into the touch, a soft purr emanating from deep in his throat. Jackson’s fingers curl into Holland’s messy, golden waves, their lips connecting into a bruising kiss as he considers setting a faster pace for the night.

Quiet sighs float throughout the dimly lit room, the lazy atmosphere casting around them as they mouth at one another. It isn’t until Holland pulls away for air, breathless and eyes shot with lust, that Jackson begins groping at his clothing. The larger man slips his hands down between their bodies, undoing the button of Holland’s pants before hooking his thumbs under the waistband and shoving them down past his knees. He’s met with the smooth skin of Holland’s backside, boxer briefs nowhere in sight. At that he shakes his head, a chuckle slipping from his shiny lips.

“You never fail to surprise me, y’know that?” Jackson laughs, furrowing his brows as if trying to put on a serious front.

Holland simply shrugs, his freckled shoulders nudging into the pillows. “S’too hot for all that,” he groans, his back arching as much as he can manage, which isn’t a lot considering the weight that Healy is forcing on him. But the angle does allow for his ass to push further into Healy’s clothed bulge, an action they are both able to appreciate for the time being.

“Yeah, it is a little hot, huh?” Healy says with a nod as he clears his throat. His fingers work deftly at the small buttons on his shirt until he’s left in a simple white tank top. Next, he moves to the buckle of his belt, pulling left then right until it’s unclasped and he can get his pants off. “Alright, get comfortable.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll get right to it,” Holland sasses, throwing an unimpressed look over his shoulder, though he draws his legs up the bed so he’s able to reposition. Jackson leans over the side of the bed and reaches for the drawer of the nightstand, fumbling until it slides open. Holland averts his gaze as Healy settles back on the bed, his knees digging into the comforter as he rests back on his heels. Without another word, Holland finds himself on his knees, elbows propped against the soft sheets, fully exposed and waiting with burning anticipation. He can hear his heartbeat thrumming in his ears—a loud and steady pound. His hands feel like ice, cold and unsteady, but he manages to keep himself hovering in place.

"Y'know, last weekend would have been a great opportunity for this, s'not like Holly is right down the hallway or anything.."

"Fucking forgive me. You seemed a little repulsed the last time I mentioned it, or you mentioned it. Whatever," Healy says with an exasperated sigh.

The clicking and popping sound of the lube container jolts Holland back into real time, Jackson's words floating just above his head, out of reach. A reassuring hand lands on his hip and he has to make a conscious effort to keep his breathing in check. All the while, his cock hangs heavily between his spread thighs, red and painfully hard, slowly beginning to drip precum on the fabric below.

The first touch of Healy’s fingertips are welcome, warm and gentle on the back of Holland’s thighs. They trail over the curve of his ass, calloused palm and all, but he doesn’t mind. He prefers it actually, the gentle roughness of all that is his partner.

They settle into a comfortable silence as Healy works his slick fingers over Holland’s hole, a light feathery touch just to ease into things, which is fine. In a few minutes time, he’s easily slipped two fingers in, just beginning to scissor them open. He’s almost in disbelief at how far they’ve come since the first conversation, or whatever you could call it. Maybe not a conversation, a few brief comments. He barely remembers how it was even brought up in the first place, but he’s practically on his knees thanking whatever is watching him from up above.

For a moment he was beginning to think that he had it absolutely made, but that suddenly came crashing down as Holland urged forward, Jackson’s fingers slipping from the tight, wet heat of his ass. His eyes follow the other man as his knees clamor a few inches up the bed, his hands reaching for the wooden slats of their headboard. From somewhere behind Holland, a tutting noise is made. Jackson reaches a hand out to him, grasping firmly but gently onto his calf.

“Hey, c’mon. Where are you going? Lemme take care of you,” Healy utters just above a whisper, his eyebrows contorting a fraction. Holland, still facing the wall, shakes his head for a second, gathering himself with a slow breath, but it doesn’t entirely ease his nerves.

“Okay, okay. I’m fine,” Holland reassures, short of breath but still mostly convincing, at least he thinks.

“Alright..” Jackson starts, regaining touch with the blonde as he slips two fingers back in. "Well, act like it. I’m trying to do something here,” he finishes, rolling his eyes with more attitude than intended.

A choked-out moan falls from Holland’s lips, slick with spit and reddened from the teething assault he’s been inflicting on himself. His fingers flex against the sheets, scratching and clawing for purchase on the bed. He shifts his back and pushes his hips back a tad, angling Healy’s fingers until they graze against the spot buried deep in him. Shallow and breathy moans fall from his lips as his back contorts against the other man’s weight. The muscles in his legs twitch, his feet sliding across the bed restlessly.

“Holland,” Healy urges as he firmly plants a hand on the man’s lower back. “Quit squirming.”

An exasperated grunt comes from somewhere near the head of the bed, and Jackson has to bite his tongue for a second. Holland’s arms fold down, his upper body now fully resting on the bed. He groans again, his eyes falling shut and reopening slowly.

“My back hurts, let’s just-“

“Shut up, no it doesn’t,” Healy bites back, his right hand slowing down to a teasing pace. He contemplates removing his fingers but decides against it; he's not giving up this time, not easily at least.

“Jack-“

“It’s gonna hurt in a minute if you keep this up,” he warns, his hand sliding up the divots of Holland’s ribcage. They lock eyes for a moment, simply staring at one another. Holland grunts one more time, a pouty frown crossing over his reddened face. Healy runs his fingers along Holland’s jaw, tracing his chin softly. His thumb slows to a stop, digging into the smaller man’s stubble. March’s tongue flicks out between his lips, brushing over Healy’s fingertip. Holland catches his gaze and lets out a small grin.

Their breathing is the only audible sound aside from the rattle of the A.C. unit wedged in the window, which can't seem to keep up with cooling down the heated bedroom.

"You're doing good, hmm?" The gentle praise falls from Jackson's lips before he can think twice about it, but Holland seems to welcome it, his eyes softening at the words.

"Okay, yeah." Holland sighs into the air as he readjusts his elbows, his biceps burning from holding the weight of his torso. The room falls quiet around them as Jackson works his fingers into him, breaking the slow pace and thrusting his hand faster. A broken whine escapes Holland's lips and he turns to bury his face in Jackson's pillow, breathing in deeply but not receiving anything in return. He curses quietly in frustration, biting his tongue as he fights off the building heat that’s pooling in his stomach, he's not losing this time. Not again.

"Yeah, you're being so good for me, baby. Aren't you?" Healy asks, but he's not exactly looking for an answer, not in this moment. He takes in the sight of Holland, the prominent veins of his neck, the flush coloring from his cheeks to his hardened nipples, and he knows Holland can't think straight anymore. God, the alcohol definitely doesn't help his case either. "Hey, you okay?" He asks, his fingers curling slightly as he draws them out slowly. Holland nods but Healy must miss it because he withdraws his fingers all together, leaning down to place a few gentle kisses on the other man's lower back in an apology.

"Fuck," Holland curses, his back arching in disapproval at the overwhelming emptiness he feels. "Jackson, I'm-"

"I know, sweetheart. You're ready,” Healy acknowledges with a rare softness to his voice. He places another kiss on Holland, this time near the middle of his back, before moving to slide his damp boxers off. A sigh of relief fills the room as he gets a hand on his dick, stroking it several times before reaching to get the container of lube.

He reaches out to pull Holland closer, his solid arm wrapping around the man’s slender waist. He slides his hand down the warmth of his stomach, tracing the soft hair of his happy trail, before wrapping his thumb and forefinger around the base of Holland’s length. His other hand grips onto the bony curve of Holland’s hip, fingernails leaving crescent-shaped indentations on the milky skin.

A groan slips from Holland’s swollen lips, a pitiful cry for something more. More touching, more friction—anything. Jackson takes note of this, feels the heat burning in his hands and stomach, so it’s easy for him to give in. He’s been waiting long enough, has been finding himself daydreaming and getting lost in his head thinking about this very moment.

Holland’s feet gently rub up against the back of Jackson’s knees, a thrown-away movement in poor attempt to pull him closer. It’s no use, not when Jackson is in control of these ministrations. It was worth a shot anyway, Holland thinks.

“Stop teasing me,” Holland whimpers as he cranes his neck to glance at Healy over his shoulder. He’s pouting again, but this time it breaks something in his partner.

“Don’t act like you don’t fucking like it,” Healy grunts.

“Jack, please,” Holland whimpers into the damp pillow clutched between his arms, the sound muffling just enough so that it doesn't leave the room. His hips stutter as he thrusts wildly into the shallow grip, Healy’s thumb resting on his pointer finger, the hold mostly lax.

“Shh, none of that,” Healy warns with a low tone. A barely audible whine emits from below him, his hips briefly slowing as his fist gains a tighter grip on Holland’s dick. “This what you want?” He asks, his eyes flicking up to look at the other man. Holland’s head is turned to the side, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyebrows draw together tightly, the look bordering on painful.

They’ve been doing this long enough now, Holland knows. He has finally grown somewhat patient during these times, but everyone makes mistakes. Holland March, of all men, is guilty of many slip-ups. Which, in turn, Healy knows and acknowledges, hence the gentle warning.

A few beats of silence pass over them, Holland fighting to catch his breath while Jackson patiently waits for a response. Finally, a coherent thought spills from March’s mouth.

“Yeah, yeah. Just do it already, please?” He asks with an edge of desperation creeping into his tone.

Jackson lets out an innocent noise of surprise, his eyes crinkling as a smile forms on his lips. “Look at you, using manners and everything. You’re really starting to learn now. I appreciate that,” he says. Holland can't find the strength in himself to roll his eyes, so he settles for a little jostle of his hips, hoping to make his point clear without having to voice it a second time.

Healy seems to understand what he means, so he resumes his motions, his rough fingertips kneading into the soft skin of Holland's thighs as he lines himself up, this time slowly easing himself into the smaller man.

The feeling of relief when he finally slides home is nearly enough to make him lose control. He has to bite his lip to hold back a moan, making a show of keeping his composure instead of falling to pieces like his partner, or he’ll never hear the end of it.

“Jack, you’re so good to me,” Holland whines into the damp air, his words slurring as drool collects on his bottom lip. His hair flops on the pillowcase, damp with sweat and fluffy from the humidity of the room.

Jackson laughs to himself quietly, trying to mask his amusement, but to no avail. Holland is a bumbling mess in general, to no surprise, but add in any kind of physical contact to his state, and it’s dangerously heightened.

“Yeah? You like this? S’not so bad.” Healy grunts low in the back of his throat, despite valiant efforts to stay quiet. He rolls his hips gently, his length gliding in and out of Holland’s opening at a punishingly slow pace. The bed creaks in protest of the movement, the headboard grazing the drywall.

Holland shakes his head, trying to clear the clouded lust from his brain. He quickly shoves a pillow behind the furniture, silencing the repetitive knocking, but that only dissolves some of the noise. Lewd gasps fall from his parted lips, the knuckles shoved in his mouth doing next to nothing to quiet him.

A sharp, pointed thrust comes from Healy and another moan echoes off the mostly bare bedroom walls. Holland lets out a string of curses, planting his hands firmly on the bed and pushing back against Healy’s cock.

"Hey, you gotta be quiet. Can't go waking up Holly," Jackson reminds him in a low tone, curling closer to the blonde man so he can whisper into the hollow of his ear.

Just when Holland thinks he can manage to keep it to a dull roar, Jackson shoves him down onto his chest, angling his hips so he can fuck into him deeper. Holland hears a daunting chuckle from behind, almost mocking his inability to obey the command.

“Jack, Jack, fuck. Please-” Holland cries out as Jackson’s hand collides with the back of his neck, shoving his head further into the plush pillow. “Jesus Christ.”

“I don’t think he wants to hear this, Holland. And I’m positive Holly doesn’t want to either,” Healy tuts, his fingers clamping down on the muscles working in Holland’s throat. “Do you wanna cum?”

Holland shakes out an incredibly enthusiastic nod, his hair tossing around again. The light catches on his face and Healy swears there’s tears gathering in his bloodshot eyes, but that only feeds the energy between them. His hand slides up to Holland’s mouth, his thick fingers covering it completely as his other hand finds a home near his upper thigh. He snaps his hips in earnest, gliding into the smaller man with ease, aiming to hit his prostate and doing so successfully.

A litany of muffled mewls reverberate around the room as the pair simultaneously chase their releases. Jackson knows he can’t cum first, he just can’t, it has to be Holland.

“Please, Jackson, I need...” Holland pleads out, his head bowed between his forearms. He loses his train of thought as Jackson grabs his wrists, pining them above his head, stretching him out enough to restrict his movement.

“You have to be quiet. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, yes, I know!” Holland bites back, his hips bucking wildly against Healy’s body.

Jackson watches the flex of Holland’s muscles, knows he’s close, and he’d be selfish to delay his release any longer. He reaches around Holland’s middle and firmly grasps his dick, his thumb swiping roughly over the glistening tip. The movement elicits a grunt followed by a quieter moan, Holland making a nearly failed attempt to stay quiet. His hips thrust into the grip, Healy stroking him faster but with an element of softness to the touch.

Holland’s orgasm comes fast and hot, moans muffled once again by Jackson’s hand, cum splattering on the bedspread below. Healy has to shush him repeatedly, even though he wants nothing more than to hear his partner shout his name, obscene curses strung throughout, as he convulses as a response to the overstimulating contact.

“Holy shit. Fuck me,” Holland wheezes with a shortness of breath. He reaches for the headboard for a second time, grasping onto it tightly in an effort to stabilize himself. Healy doesn’t let up, his hips snapping in time with Holland’s countermovement.

“Yeah, I am fucking you. And look, you’re taking me so well. Jesus, Holland,” Healy responds, his knuckles going white with a bruising grip on Holland’s hipbones.

They lock eyes, March’s sparkling blue meeting Healy’s steel-ish grey.

“Fuck, I’m so full, Jack.” Holland’s eyes flutter shut, his muscles flexing and relaxing all the way from his toes to his eyebrows. The only thing he can hear is the sound of his heartbeat in his ears and the heavy breathing coming from behind him.

Jackson cums with a heavy sigh, his hips briefly slowing but continuing to roll into Holland. He lets go of the other man, rubbing his hand over the red finger-shaped marks before slowly pulling out of him. He stays still for a moment, his eyes trailing over Holland until he’s met with his ass. A few droplets of cum dribble out slowly, glistening in the light.

Healy shakes his head, regaining his train of thought and ushering Holland to lay down on his back.

“Hmmm,” Holland sighs quietly and lets his hands fall to his sides, palms facing the ceiling as he takes a shallow, shaky breath.

“Hey, are you still with me?” Healy asks, his hand coming to rest firmly on Holland’s chest. The tacky warmth of his large palm brings the smaller man back to the quiet realm of their bedroom.

“Hmmph,” Holland groans again as he shifts his head to lean on Jackson’s shoulder. His eyes are still tightly shut, but it doesn’t matter because he knows that face. The face. Jackson, above him, his eyes crystal clear and loaded with admiration. He can feel the stare that’s aimed at him, his cheeks heating up further despite the reoccurring nature of it all.

“I don’t know that that’s an acceptable answer, Holl. You might wanna work on that.” Healy exhales into the damp, blonde hair tickling his chin and throat. His arm shifts slowly, his fingertips grazing the side of Holland’s shoulders as they trail down the expanse of his back. He entertwines their fingers, bringing them to rest on his chest where he can get a better look at the ring on Holland's pinky. It twitches slightly, his hand moving with a slight tremble the way it normally does.

Holland shuffles his bent knees a fraction and he’s met with a disapproving hum. Healy’s hand falls to his hip, keeping him steady as his other hand dips to collect the leaking release from Holland’s hole.

“Open..” Jackson breathes out, his fingertips now brushing over Holland’s bottom lip. The cum smears messily over his mouth but it’s gone in a split second, Holland’s tongue deftly swiping the sticky texture away. He giggles quietly and cards a hand through his blonde hair, observing the serious look on Healy’s face.

“Wow, that was...wow,” Holland sighs as he snags a cigarette and his lighter from the nightstand.

“Five stars? Would do it again?” Healy asks, only joking a little bit with the question. He reaches an arm around Holland’s shoulders and pulls him close to his side. With his other hand, he traces his fingertips over the freckles littering Holland's arm, willing him to relax further into the bed, but to no avail.

Holland is far too anxious to sleep, even after their laboring activities. In a perfect world, sex would be enough to put him to sleep, but his world is beyond that. He needs a drink, a few cigarettes wouldn’t hurt either.

“Fuck, yeah. I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on that my whole life,” Holland answers after a moment, the back of his hand rubbing over his eyes.

Healy lets out a quiet laugh as Holland shifts to get up from their bed. A heavy hand falls on his bare shoulder, holding him back a bit.

“Hey, I can go get it. Just lay down,” Healy offers as he rises to his feet.

“No, I..” Holland shakes the empty glass tumbler at Healy, and it clicks. No, he wasn’t getting a towel, he wants another drink.

“Holland, it’s late.”

“Uh..” He shrugs, only slightly considering Healy’s words before continuing his empty thought. “Yeah, well, time is just a custom,” he finishes.

They’re facing each other now, eyes locked in an unspoken dispute. Holland rolls his head back and forth, willing the kink in his neck to dissolve, before he breaks the staring contest.

“Lay down,” Healy urges, a pleading edge bleeding into his tone.

Holland sighs heavily through his nose, his hands raised in an irritated surrender. He drops back down onto the bed, his legs crossing at his ankles.

“Don’t move,” Healy orders as he backs into the en-suite bathroom, his finger pointed at the other man accusingly.

Holland rolls his eyes and taps the end of his cigarette onto the ashtray, the gray ash falling into dust on the marbled glass.

Jackson returns to the room, a damp towel clutched in his right hand.

“I’m never gonna fall asleep now,” Holland grouses. His hands are folded over on his lower stomach, gaze fixed on the ceiling.

The careful movements from Healy distract his eyes and he watches as the man wipes his thighs down, seemingly engrossed with the task. Holland lets out a loud sigh, tapping his foot against the bed to get Jackson’s attention. It works.

“What, Holland?” Jackson mutters as he runs the cloth over the smaller man’s pelvis.

“How’m I gonna go to bed now?” Holland wonders out loud.

Healy’s arm slows to a stop, his hands folding the towel into a neat square as he looks at the other man’s face. He cocks an eyebrow, his lips curving into a small, lazy grin.

“Wanna go again?”

#the nice guys (2016)#the nice guys fanfic #holland march #jackson healy #holland march x jackson healy #smut #not sfw #ryan gosling #russell crowe #vallie writes #mine

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drivinmeinsane · 11 months ago

Text

Don't Go Breaking My Heart

※Chapter Two ※ Holland March x Jackson Healy ※

{ masterlist } ※ { ao3 } ※ { previous chapter }

※ Summary: Even during the most wonderful time of the year, Holland March can't help but be clumsy. A stressful hospital trip to set the detective's re-fractured arm leads an unfortunate revelation about his relationship with Jackson Healy.

Part of the Butterfly Effect collection. Can be read as a standalone.

※ Rating: 18+ for mature content.

※ Content/Tags: Fluff and Angst, Smut, Established Relationship, Period-Typical Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Injury, Canon-Typical Alchohol Consumption, reference to religion, Typical Idiot Holland March, Insecure Jackson Healy, Collaboration, first time anal sex, lotion as lube,(Seriously do not use lotion as a personal lubricant), Holly just wants her dads to get their shit together, mention of Christmas

※ Word count: 3,474

※ Status: Complete/Multichapter, Chapter 2 of 2.

※ Author's Notes: Second chapter of the collaboration I did with @danime25. It's always a pleasure to cook with someone else. <3

It’s the harsh beam of sunlight boring through his eyelids that wakes Holland up. Without opening his eyes, he rolls over in the bed and reaches out for his partner. His hand makes contact with nothing but slightly cool air. It’s so jarring that he’s instantly awake, staring at the space Jackson Healy that has been occupying every single night without fail for the past few months.

Scenes from the night before flash in his mind and he can’t quite suppress a groan. He can only hope that the other man is still in the house and not in his crappy apartment above the comedy club that had turned into an office space rather than a place to live. Surely they can fix whatever the hell went wrong between them.

The detective awkwardly scrambles out of bed, all too aware of his injured arm. He goes through his minimal morning routine feeling as though he’d been run over and left for dead in the street. He hasn’t felt this battered since the Amelia case that had brought Jack into his life to start with. Roughly wiping his damp face off with a towel, he finally steps foot into the living room.

His knees want to buckle in relief when he spots the other man standing in front of the coffee machine. Holland has to rein himself in to keep from rushing over and wrapping his arms around him, seeking reassurance that everything is all right between the two of them. Instead, he takes a seat at the breakfast bar. His cast makes a heavy thudding noise against the counter-top. Healy doesn’t so much as twitch at the sound.

Pulling a cigarette out of the pack resting on the counter, Holland observes the shorter man. He puts it between his lips and lights it. While he contemplatively takes a drag, he watches Jack take two mugs out of the cupboard and pour them both coffee. Despite last night, the other man is careful to leave Holland’s black, doctoring his own with a heaping spoon of sugar and way too much creamer. Healy picks up both mugs and places the PI’s down in front of him before taking a seat at his side.

“Holly left a note. She’s at Jessica’s. Wants us to figure our shit out,” the other man says as a greeting. Holland just nods, tired.

“So, my head is a little hazy from last night,” he says around the dangling cigarette, “but did we break up or something?”

His partner’s hold noticeably tightens on his coffee cup, almost enough to shatter the ceramic, before he relaxes his hand. When he speaks, his tone is bitter. “What was there to break up? Two men can’t be in a relationship, March. Last night at the hospital sure proved that.”

“C’mon Healy, you don’t mean that,” his voice catches in the back of his throat.

If Jackson says another hurtful thing like he just did, Holland is going to have to show him the door. He knows how he feels about the other man. Society be damned, if loving Healy is wrong, he sure as hell didn’t want to be right. He knows they’re doing to face vitriol over their relationship, but he knows there are other people like them. Hell, there is that politician in San Francisco… what was it…? Narancia? It was some kind of drink. Thinking out loud, Holland mumbles, “Juice?”

“It doesn’t matter what I mean. I can feel however I wanna about you, and it still doesn’t change things,” the other man responds while Holland thinks. After a lengthy pause he looks at him, confused. “What the hell does juice have to do with this?”

“Huh? Oh, there’s this politician. His name is some kind of drink…”

Healy puts his face in his hands and lets out a hopeless little chuckle. “Jesus, March… What do you want from me?”

That is enough to snap him back onto the topic at hand. “I just want us to go back to what we had… even twelve hours ago. When I could kiss you and you wouldn’t flinch away like I was trying to kill you. Shit, I just want us to be together without all of this .” He waves a hand in the air, his cigarette tucked between his fingers.

“I don’t want you to wake up down the line and realize you wasted your time on someone who doesn't legally matter. I can’t be there for you and Holly like a woman could. I’m the worst possible option for you.”

“And how many times do I have to tell you? That doesn’t fucking matter. I love you regardless,” he snaps back, hackles up. For a heartbeat, he doesn’t realize he said the thing that he’s been struggling to say for weeks. It dawns on him and he winces. It’s too late to suck the words back into his mouth.

Healy is deadly still. So still that Holland would even take a slap across the face if it meant that the other man had heard him. His cigarette burns to the end of the filter and he snubs it out in the nearby ashtray. He doesn’t look at his partner

Finally, the silence is broken by the bruiser's audible swallow. “You don’t mean that, March. You can’t waste that on me.”

“No, I do mean it!” He shouts, getting up from his seat to pace. Holland gets more worked up with every step he takes. “Damn it, Jack, I love you.”

Much to his trepidation, his partner also gets to his feet and approaches him. Jack stops short and clenches his hands, self-soothing. The grizzled man looks unsure, very much unlike the image of himself that he presents to the world. “I want what’s best for you and your daughter.”

“You’re what’s best for us. Look at everything positive that has come out of this. Holly thinks of you as another parent. I think of you as a partner. What I want is you .”

Jesus, he could use a little liquid courage. Even without, he still bridges the gap between the both of them and kisses the shorter man, arms firmly around his neck to keep him close. Holland meant every single word of his outburst. He breaks the kiss, anxious. “I love you so much, Jackson Healy.”

His words are finally enough to get Healy to turn the affection. Holland can’t help but sag with relief as the other man’s arms wrap around his waist and hold him tightly. They’re forehead to forehead, breath intermingling. “I… I love you too, March.”

“You better,” he quips before ducking in for another kiss. This time it’s eagerly returned. He smiles into it, nipping lightly at his partner’s mouth. He pulls away, trailing his fingers from the nape of Healy’s neck to his stomach. He toys with the hem of the other man’s shirt. “You know… there was something we were going to do last night.”

“Right, and then you went and broke your arm,” Jackson says, carefully deadpan.

“Well, yeah… But we can make up for that now.”

He’s pleased when he receives a low sound of agreement and a squeeze on the hip from his partner before the man sets off in the direction of the bedroom. He might be hopelessly needy for Jackson Healy, but at least the other man was equally as infatuated with him when he wasn’t having a crisis. If anyone was going to be panicking, it should be March. It’s his role in this ragtag little family.

On the way to the bedroom, Holland starts working to strip himself of his clothing. With his daughter out of the house, he doesn’t have to be nearly as modest. He lets his pants fall the moment the door is closed behind him. Healy is immediately crowding him against the wood. The other man’s hands with their scarred knuckles slide underneath his shirt and pull it off his head to reveal his soft body. The detective feels something tender well up in him at the careful way his partner extracts his re-fractured arm from the sleeve. Soon, he’s left in just his underwear and socks.

Healy is panting in his ear, sloppy kisses laid in the crook of his neck. He groans at the feeling of the other man’s facial hair scraping along his sensitive skin. The knee that the shorter man just wedged between his thighs is going to speed things up more than Holland would like He feels like a live wire, ready to spark at any moment. Reluctantly, he pushes at his partner’s chest with his good arm, shoving him backwards until he nearly falls on top of him when the backs of Jack’s knees make contact with the bed and he goes down onto the mattress.

With a clumsy hand, Holland strips the prone man of his sweater and his undershirt. His dick twitches with an almost painful throb in his underwear the minute the other man’s upper body is exposed. Holland desperately wants to grab hold of his shoulder and rut against his partner’s stomach until his cum is matted in the dense trail of hair adorning it, but there’s something he wants more. He clamors up onto Jack’s jean-clad thighs, legs spread wide to accommodate the girth. He presses his forehead against the man’s broad shoulder so they don’t have to make eye contact while they discuss what he wants.

“Uhh…” he starts, not very eloquently.

“Yeah, March?” Healy's newly placed hand is a soothing weight on his back.

“I know we usually give each other handies or blowjobs…” he trails off, scouring his mind for the words he needs. He fails. “Maybe we can do something more?”

“… Like using my chest?” He questions, referencing one of Holland’s earlier requests. The first one he’d ever made.

“Actually… more inside than that,” he clears his throat, thankful that the other man cannot see his flushing face. Holland has seen enough porno content while on cases. They both have holes, surely his partner can pick what he’s implying here.

“March…” Healy trails off, sounding strangled, “you want me to take it up the ass?”

“ No! I want you to stick it in me. Have me take you up the ass.”

“Oh… Yeah, yeah, we can try that, but… I haven’t y’know.”

“Well, neither have I.” Holland shrugs a little bit, not too concerned. He trusts his partner enough to not hurt him.

Finally, he peels himself off of the other man. He scrambles to find a comfortable spot on his back beside him before stripping off his boxers and throwing them onto the floor. Jesus, what he’d give for a drink right now, but Healy doesn’t fuck around with him unless they’re on equal footing when it comes to being sober.

With less confidence than he’d like, he mimics the position he’d seen once playing on a television screen at one of the more questionable places he’d questioned someone at. His legs are spread, inviting Healy to kneel between them. The other man does. Through half-lidded eyes, Holland watches him swallow and run a nervous tongue over his lips. He leaves his arms at his side, wanting him to take the lead. He’s willing to be moved around like a Ken doll by Jackson’s hands

Holland is not disappointed by the other man’s initiative. He can’t contain a moan at the feeling at the warm hand wrapping itself around his soft cock, stroking it into hardness. His pleased noises get swallowed up by Healy leaning over him to press his mouth to his. Both men are wedged together with hardly enough space for the bruiser’s hand to work at him. Holland is the one who has to break it off to draw in heaving breaths, he’s already leaking copious amounts of precum over Healy’s knuckles.

Without pausing the steady movements of his wrist, his partner checks in with him. “You doin’ alright? You’re never this quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Holland responds, staring up at him. He feels his face flush again. Healy looks better than he has any right to after a night of presumably sleeping on the couch, but this was his guy. His partner. Of course he’s going to look good to the PI.

“Let’s do this already. We need lube…” He glances around the room for something to use before spotting a bottle of lotion on their bedside table. “The lotion is probably the best we’re gonna get.”

Without preamble, the other man leans over just enough to pick it up. Holland’s teeth end up worrying at his bottom lip as he watches Jack slick the fingers of his right hand until they’re pale and streaked. They two of them are as ready as they’re ever going to be for this.

His hole easily accepts the intrusion of Healy’s finger. He moans, throwing his head back into the pillow and arching his body. “Yeah, that feels good. Feels really good. Fuck .”

That finger feels even better when the other man pumps it in and out of him. He can’t keep himself still. The second only heightens the sensations he’s feeling, finally giving him enough of a stretch that foreshadows what’s to come. The detective nearly leaps off the bed when Healy’s otherwise unoccupied hand reclaims it’s place around his dick. That touch is all the warning he gets before the other man leans down and takes the head of it into the wet plushness of his mouth.

“Jesus!” He yelps. His hands are gripping the sheets, clinging onto the fabric like it’s a lifeline.

In response, his partner takes his cock further, almost deep enough to gag on it. Holland swears he’s seeing stars as he feels the bruiser’s tongue trace along the underside of his shaft. He’s still fucking into him with his fingers, daring to add a third. The lotion is just barely doing its job. The detective feels almost full.

“I’m not going to last long,” he admits, panting. It’s taking everything in him to not sink into the arms of his building orgasm.

At his warning, Healy pulls off. He stills his hands and looks up at his face. “Do you want me to stop? I can finish getting you off like this. Don’t have to go all the way.”

“No, I'm fine. Just hurry.” Holland's voice catches in the back of his throat, giving his words a whimpering quality. Something hungry flickers over his partner’s face.

“Okay, let me just…” Healy trails off, sliding his fingers free of the tight heat of Holland’s body. He unbuttons his jeans and unzips them. His dick looks engorged and flushed, twitching and tapping against his ample stomach. He slicks it down with copious amounts of lotion and takes himself in hand. He pauses with the tip of his cock just slightly pressing into Holland. “You ready?”

“Yes .”

Slowly, with a series of pauses, Healy eases his thick cock into him. Despite opening Holland up with three of his large fingers, it’s still a tight fit. The other man bottoms out, snugly seated inside of him. The sensation of his stomach brushing against his still very interested dick has him smothering a whine. He feels full, pleasantly so.

“Are you doing okay?” His partner asks, concern lacing his voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he responds, “Jesus, I never realized how big you were until now.” The sentence slips out of him without his permission. He tenses up as he realizes what a weird thing it was for him to say. He could slap himself right now.

Healy doesn’t look upset, though, merely flustered. The other man clears his throat and offers him an unusual compliment in return. “You feel really good, March.”

Holland relaxes when his partner rubs a soothing circle over his hip. Perhaps sensing that he’s starting to get impatient, Healy starts to move, a slow drag of his cock nearly all the way out and bottoming out back in. He settles in to a relaxed pace. Instinctively, the detective’s back arches ever so slightly, angling so that the other man’s thrusts plunge deeper. He’s still hanging onto the sheets.

Lightning strikes him when he feels the head of the Jackson’s dick graze over his prostate. Before he’s fully aware, he’s cumming in messy spurts over the bruiser’s stomach. The resulting clench of his hole around his partner serves to drag him over the edge right along with him. Both men are shaking and muttering broken words as they empty themselves.

Shuddering from the stimulation as Healy pulls his softening cock free with a wet sound and extracts himself from their tangled position, Holland can’t help but fumble for the bedside table. His hand manages to hand on a loose, half smoked cigarette still sitting in the ashtray. Good enough. He lights it and gets it between his lips the moment he finds the lighter he keeps next to the table lamp.

“Fuck, March,” the other man groans.

The detective just nods in agreement, stricken silent for once. He had liked that, liked that way more than he probably should. He wonders if his partner would be willing to let him ride him next time.

“Didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, it felt fantastic actually,” he says. Despite feeling fucked out and limp, he leans over and kisses the other man’s stubbled cheek.

His reassurance must sooth the other man because Healy hauls himself off the bed with a groan, back popping. He heads into the en-suite bathroom to clean himself up before returning to the bed with a damp cloth. He carefully wipes Holland down much to his appreciation. It saves him the hassle of moving his cast-bound arm more than strictly necessary.

“Thanks,” he says softly and snubs out the cigarette.

He sits up enough to pull the other man into the bed beside him once they’re both clean. It’s the most natural thing in the world to tuck himself against the broad man, to feel him wrap an arm around his back and hold him close. Holland is on the cusp of telling him that he loves him again when his partner speaks.

“So… I wanna apologize,” the other half of the Nice Guys Detective Agency starts.

“What do you mean?” He asks. He thought they were squared up, that they were good again. Sure, he wasn’t upset at getting an apology, but it felt worrisome. Healy won’t meet his eyes, instead choosing to focus his gaze on the ceiling tiles.

“I was an ass after the hospital. I was a pansy and didn’t handle it like I should’ve.”

“Yeah, you were… I know you said some of the things that were bothering you when we were fighting, but what got you so worried about us?” Holland follows his line of sight up to the ceiling.

“The nurse reminded me about how I can’t be there for you when it matters, y’know? You broke your fuckin’ arm and I just had to sit in the waiting room. ‘Sides, I don’t know how to be a good partner. I did so badly with my wife she left me for my old man.”

Oh , Holland thinks. His partner had felt helpless. That would explain a lot actually.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, patting the other man’s shoulder. “I’m not very good at it either. Hell, I still don’t know how I managed to get Holly’s mom in the first place.”

“She must’ve been a very patient woman,” Healy jokes dryly..

“Like a saint.” Holland responds in kind, mildly miffed at the implication that he’s a difficult person to be with. He hovers his hand over Healy’s hair before combing through it.

The other man lets out a groan and shifts enough to sling a thick arm over his stomach, settling against him more comfortably. “It’s a good thing you didn’t get the catholic school treatment too. We’d be even more cataclysmic.”

“You’re excused?” Holland makes a face as he tries to decipher what fucking word just came out of Healy’s mouth. This feels like their ‘eunuch’ schtick all over again. He tries to quietly mouth the word ‘cataclysmic’ and make sense of the word before his partner starts to talk. Again.

“It’s like ruination,” he supplies, not bothering to open his eyes. He’s dozing off.

“Maybe Holly can buy me a dictionary next year, and I’ll be able to understand you for once.” Holland grumbles. Jackson fucking Healy everyone. He shakes his head. “We’re getting off track… you were apologizing?”

The only response he gets is a loud snore from Healy. He’s actually asleep. Out like a damn light.

“Love you too, pal,” he grumbles, feeling more fond of the man using him as a pillow than he’d ought to be.

{ previous chapter }

#the nice guys (2016)#the nice guys #the nice guys fanfic #holland march #jackson healy #ryan gosling #russel crowe #ryan gosling fanfiction #russel crowe fanfiction #holland march x jackson healy #healland #.my posts #.my work #.collab with danime25 #.my collabs

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speak-softly-love · 4 years ago

Text

Writing/RP Muse List

Maximus from Gladiator

Jack Aubrey from Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World

Robin Longstride from Robin Hood

SID 6.7 from Virtuosity

Inspector Javert from Les Misérables

Jim Braddock from Cinderella Man

John Nash from A Beautiful Mind

Richie Roberts from American Gangster

Bud White from L.A. Confidential

Jackson Healy from The Nice Guys

Russell Crowe (respectful asks only, please. No smut)

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the-woman-upstairs · 6 years ago

Text

Yuletide Letter 2018

Dear Author,

Hello and thank you so much for giving me the gift of fic! Listed below are all the relevant details that should help you in your writing, but if you have any questions, feel free to send me an anonymous message.

Here are some of my general likes and dislikes that should give you some guidelines for writing.

General Likes: Fluff, sexual tension, romantic tension, mutual pining, friends turned lovers, family bonding, protective family/friends/significant others, fake dating, holding hands, zombie apocalypse au, cuddling, happy endings, emotional hurt/comfort, emotional support, snowed-in, public declarations of love, soulmate au, relaxing/adventuring together, rebuilding trust, kidfic, high school au, non-sexual romantic gestures

General DNWs: Rape/non-con, BDSM, gore, extreme violence, torture, unhappy endings, character deaths, watersports, emotional/mental/physical abuse (parental/domestic), humiliation, incest, pedophilia, slurs of any kind, somnophilia, A/B/O dynamics, scat, emetophilia, bloodplay, breathplay, hate crimes, misogyny, homophobia, racism, first person POV, Dom/sub, ageplay, underage, vote, food kink, mommy/daddy kink, character bashing

Here are all my fandoms including characters and a few prompts if you’d like to use them.

Mission Impossible (Movies)

Characters: Benji Dunn, Ilsa Faust, Ethan Hunt

I absolutely adore all three of these characters and believe they have the most interesting dynamics with each other, especially after Fallout. What I’m really interested in is some OT3 goodness; there is just so much polyamory potential between them with their personal shared history, relatable traumas, and relationship growth from Rogue Nation to Fallout.

Prompts:

- The three of them are stranded together during a mission and through their teamwork + stressful situation realize their feelings for each other

- One is injured and the other two fret over them. Can be during or after a mission

- Benji and Ilsa rescue Ethan together and while they both know they have feelings for him, realize they’re in love with each other too

- Figuring out how to live together and enjoying domesticity with each other

- Post Fallout vacation where they help each other to heal from Lane’s attacks and fall in love in the process

The Miseducation of Cameron Post

Characters: Cameron Post, Jane Fonda, Adam Red Eagle

What really struck me about this movie were the touching and realistic bonds of friendship between the three queer teens. Conversion therapy is horrendous, but the support and love they had for one another made me emotional (not enough films that focus on queer teens being friends with each other). I’m strictly looking for gen, not interested in any romance between the three of them, but if you want to introduce an OC love interest for one or each of them that’s totally fine.

Prompts:

- What happened now that they escaped God’s Promise? Where do they end up, how do they travel together, what places do they visit, who do they meet? (Please nothing from book canon as I haven’t read it yet)

- Zombie apocalypse au and would prefer it set during the canon era. Give me some 90s culture, queer teens, and a zombie filled road trip

- Time skip where it’s been about ten years and they’ve gone on to live separate lives but are brought back together and catch up/reminisce

- Three queer teens and a baby! Somehow in their travels they find a baby and despite the obvious hardships, work together to take care of them and give them better love and support than the three of them received

- Musician au where the three of them play completely different instruments and genres but manage to cobble together an awesome band as a means of openly queer artistic expression

Searching

Characters: David Kim, Margo Kim

The father-daughter relationship in this movie really tore me up in how raw and real it was and I just want to see more of it, either post-movie or in a kind of au

Prompts:

- These two would be interesting to see in a zombie apocalypse au. Surviving together, David doing anything to protect Margo while she proves skilled at surviving herself

- Father daughter road trip post-movie! What’s their destination? Any cool or weird sight-seeing? Would like to see them enjoying the time together but also openly grieving over Pam together about how she can’t be there with them

- David meeting someone new and the two of them dealing with him dating again and the possibility of another long term paternal presence in Margo’s life

- Father daughter detective agency. Can either be an au on its own or post-movie canon. Cases they take on, uncovering corruption, reuniting families, working together to help others like them

- Margo’s first year in college documented through her e-mail, Skype, texts, misc digital messaging with her father

Blockers

Characters: Angelica, Sam, Julie, Kayla

The emphasis on positive female friendships was such a wonderful part of this film and I really would like that to be the focus of any fic for this fandom. I included Angelica because I’d also be very interested in having Angelica/Sam be a background relationship with the focus being on the friendships or the central relationship that the other friends help/support Sam with.

Prompts:

- The girls helping get Sam and Angelica together, whether it’s through flirting tips or setting up dates or

- Sam (with Angelica) goes to pride for the first time and Julie and Kayla come to support (maybe they also explore their own queer identities? Feel free to experiment with that concept)

- Future fic where Sam and Angelica are getting married and the friends go through all the cliches (bachelorette party, family getting together, panic/stress in general) together while also reminiscing and strengthening their friendship

- Future fic where the three of them become moms and help each other deal with parenting

- Any exploration of their friendship before senior year. Include all the cliches you’d like: homecoming games, sports or academic competitions, bonding over love or hatred of school subjects, etc

Baby Driver

Characters: Darling/Monica, Debora

I adore the movie as is but I would also 100% love it more as a lesbian car chase/heist film.

Prompts:

- Events of the film but Deb is the driver and she falls in love with darling

- Post movie where darling survives and seeks out deb

- Deb takes that cross country drive with darling instead of baby

- Supernatural creature au darling as a vampire, deb as a werewolf

- Initially, darling just hooks up with deb (smut is highly appreciated) but then falls in love with her

The Nice Guys

Characters: Jackson Healy, Holland March, Holly March

This movie is already great but would have been improved by 100% if Holland and Jackson had kissed at the end. The co-parenting dynamic they adopted towards the end of the film was so sweet and I’m an absolute sucker for queer family dynamics. Add the time period to that and there’s loads of great fic possibilities.

Prompts:

- Holly accidentally calls Jackson “dad” and Holland freaks out like he does but realizes he wants Jackson around, in both a “dad to holly” way and “I’m in love with you” way

- Family road trip vacation with plenty of pining between Jackson and Holland, realization of feelings, and Holly setting her dads up

- Beach vacation where Holland and Jackson can appreciate each other’s dad bods in bathing suits

- Case fic where one of the guys ends up in danger or kidnapped and feelings are realized/revealed

- Holland gets a lot of attention from women AND men (oblivious to it naturally) and Jackson finds himself feeling jealous and Holly helps him woo her dad

Thank you so much for writing my Yuletide fic, I can’t wait to read it!

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hoppingonjim · 10 months ago

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I just love how much you love Jackson Healy too! I had a fun little idea if you wanted to explore it for him. On an unexpectedly rainy day in LA, Jackson pulls over to give the reader a ride so she decides to thank him by riding him too 🤭

RIDING DIRTY- healy !

note: he's my fav, ever. i'm so uggggh in love w him. #jacksonarmy . i'm more in love w this idea though omg but so sorry for the wait on this! if it sucks, lmk and i'll rewrite ofc

cw warnings: riding, afab!reader, sex as payment, car sex, dad bods, pet names, unprotected sex (dont be silly, cover your willie), fat cocks, jackson healy and his stupid little rants, p in v, nipple suckling, brief spanking cause jackson loves ass, mentions of aftercare, horny fucks.

the forecast forgot to mention the abundance of moody clouds that doomed the sky. their tears hammering down on your head. you didn't prepare for this, you were overjoyed in the morning with the proposal of a jog. you didn't need your car to get to work, you didn't need your car to get back from work. the day was supposed to bloom with hues of blue and green, bubbling from every surface.

except the meteorologists must've not predicted anything right. read all of the signs wrong. here you were, sidewalk, thumb up, begging in the persistent rain for a stranger's commitment to kindness.

a 66 healy pulls up. the cream color molding in with the rain. you vigorously raise your thumb, bobbing it upwards repeatedly. just to catch his attention. it's a miracle when he pulls over, opening the door for you.

"thank you, thank you-" you're stammering over your own grattiude as you hop into shotgun. then you get a full view of the man. he's tall, you can tell that by his posture- he's bigger, scruffy, looks almost like the danger that follows you home on an empty street, but those eyes are soft. the smile is gentle and almost like grandma's homemade treats. though despite the bigger figure of the man, there's strength in his grip. his knuckles clutching tightly onto the wheel, his triceps peeping through only slightly through the tropical shirt he wore.

a deep laugh bellows from the man once he resumes driving, "no problem, where you headed?" like his laugh, his voice is even low. deep. like his facial hair, his voice is scruffy.

you smile, "home. two rights, then a left.. i didn't expect it to be raining today."

"don't think anyone did honestly, damn meteorologists. y'know- i always wanted that job. can be wrong every damn day and still make a good living. i'm just not good with.. science and that- crap."

his own vernacular slips from his curved lips in a homely fashion and it's clear to you that it embarrasses him. there's a flush on his cheeks, he wants to seem more proper to you. as if you should feel completely fine about being in the car, on a rainy night, with a stranger. a man, for that matter.

though his eyes widened slightly when you laugh, the flushed color on his cheeks wisping away, "my dad used to always say that!"

"dad's a smart fella then." he nods, his wipers squeaking just slightly. clearly the beaut of a ride isn't so creamy wheeling as the colors leads you to believe, "names jackson, jackson healy- and yours?"

you smile as you tell him your name before perking an eyebrow upwards, "healy? is.. that a reason why you bought this car then? an austin-healy?"

a small shrug complements another chuckle, "i guess so, yeah. jimmy-rigged it a bit though, had to for days like today. but i mainly bought it because of the look. it's classic- don't find many classics today, and this new generation wants to keep up with the minimalist colors. i wish people could still appreciate the beauty in color." with passion he drives more cautiously, eyes flickering over towards you. taking in the sight he didn't observe before.

though his rants translates into something more poetic for you. you've known the man, jackson, for nearly five minutes- or was it ten? in such a short time he was sharing concerns with you, leveling a conversation. it was magnetic. sure his outward appearance pulled you in, you liked the dad bod type, but now his words kept you there. this stranger had a force you just couldn't seem to halt.

"i like the classics too, a lot prettier. mustangs, my dad had one.. always my favorite. a green one too, i like that color."

"green is a nice color."

the car ride goes slightly silent. he's concentrated on the slippery road, not wanting to danger either one of you. the directions you provided him repeat in his mind. his turns are graceful, he slows down, he checks every which way, you see it through the stare in his eyes that safety is the most important thing to him. it only fuels your attraction.

it wasn't like the sun was out moments before, the rain dulled it away. though now it only seemed to be a memory, the dark sky implanted with foreign light screeching from posts down the street. flickering in their neglect.

"tell me which one it is, then i'll be on my way." the gentle air of his voice never deserts him, it sweeps you closer.

nodding, you wait till he reaches the small, narrow box you call home. his tires slip just a tad when he pulls into your driveway, he expects you'll be rushing out the door- eager to get away from the stranger.

"well, here's your place i guess."

a chuckle rumbles his body, you undo your seatbelt, but your door hasn't even been opened yet, "you really helped me out jackson.." you begin, voice almost sultry as you shift your body in order to face him better.

the words you hum force the flushed red color to return to his cheeks. there's an incantation in your tone, he's sure of it, "well it's not problem-"

you're biting your lip now, in that sex icon type way. a bombshell needing to show thanks, "still, you didn't have to do it.. i can pay you back-"

"no." he cuts you off instantly, his breath stuck in his own windpipe. his throat choked out by the thick atmosphere suddenly gassing his car, "you're sweet honey, but i don't need money, i like helping people out.."

it's your turn to cut him off, not with words, but just with a laugh, "who said i would pay you back in money?"

a gulp flushes out his entire flustered demeanor. it's a different man now, one in the driver seat for this conversation. a smirk plays out on his lips, the click of his seatbelt whisking away, "what thought have you got going on in that pretty mind of yours then, huh? you really gonna pay a stranger back, in sex? you don't know me, you barely know me." a predatorial gaze falls onto you, he sees you squirming in your seat. his words driving you mad. your breathing fills up the void, until he pats his thigh.

crawling over the armrest, you situate yourself into his lap. those big hands flock to your waist, already beginning to guide you into the rhythm of grinding, ensuring you feel the affects of your words.

"you're so hard," and you're already letting the man slide down your pants, fingers teasing the dampness slowly ruining your panties.

"my words get you all wet?"

only a stiff nod is given before his thumb drags over your bottom lips. when lips part, his thumb drags down the bottom one, all delicate. though his eyes find more amusement in watching the way yours so intently focus on each move of his. the way he then orders you to kiss him, through a migration of his thumb- down to your chin.

his lips are refreshing. they don't taste of casual smoke or a bottle of whisky. there's no pungent taste, only the refreshment of wannabe crooners and style. he's hungry, he's pulling you closer and a hand is already tugging down your panties. the taste of your tongue is leaving gold in his senses and he feels he needs more. gripping and groping every last inch of you. raising and lowering you. slipping a hand downwards just to feel what he's really done to you- index finger swiping your slick.

"you're so beautiful."

into your lips he mutters more compliments about your scent, your sweetness, he way you turn him on. your beauty, never calls you sexy however. never calls you hot.

with extreme reluctance you pull away, needing every breath you can get, "i need you, let me pay you back-" "fuck yeah, okay, okay.. okay princess." he's finding something to do in the means of lifting off your shirt, unhooking your bra. it's impressive, how swift he is with it. meanwhile you're undoing his jeans, unbuttoning that beach kissed shirt. you attempt to slip the shirt completely off of him, though he shakes his head. if there is a later- you'll ask him about that.

his cock is hard, needy. his tip engorged and dripping with precum. ready for you to rock him properly for payment, "c'mon princess." his encouraging words leave you sliding on top of him. letting his thick cock fill you out.

a groan flees from him in shock at how you didn't even ease into it. his hands migrate to your hips, nails digging into the supple skin, "good girl, such a good girl." after he bucks his own hips upwards, you begin to rock on him.

you start off slow, this time you're easing into it. moans already falling from your throat- begging. begging for yourself to go just a little faster, grow more accustomed to this heavenly sensation. groans fill the car, bouncing off of your pretty sounds. the ones he can't get enough of.

"you're already so good, you know that? so good, so good already?"

the encouragement prompts you to pick up the pace. careful rocks quickly turning reckless. you're attempting to feel every inch of him, squeezing his cock with pleasure. a hand lands a blow onto your ass, but it doesn't sting. it only accelerates the thrill. those moans raise in a pitch, stumbling over one another. a new sound emerges in the car, tangoing with the sinful audio from your mouth and his- the sound of skin slapping, hard. it's as if this will never happen again. every rock, the eventual bounces, they're all desperate. your nails dig into his broad shoulders, feeling his strength. adoring his strength. you want to speak to him, the words won't barge through.

similarly he tries speaking to you, but the low grunts and groans barricade any praises. the most he can do is continue to squeeze your ass cheek, sprinkling in a spank when he deems it necessary.

the sound of rain is drowned out by the payment of sex. with your back arched, jackson realizes he has a better view of your nipples. just to throw you increasingly off the edge, he leans in, suckling on one. swirling his tongue around the hardened bud, groaning against the sensitive skin. begging to feel you release your serendipity onto him.

"holy shit- holy shit what're you- what're you-" it's becoming too much. your hands leave his shoulders and find solace in gripping on tightly to his slicked hair. the premediated waves crashing from your unwavering grasp. victims to the way you pull whenever your bouncing forces his cock to hit a special, sweet spot of yours.

he's twitching now, you can feel it. it sends you into a flight, working overtime to feel every inch of him. losing yourself on his lap. it's hectic and he finds it amazing, heavy breathing and gasps bombarding his conscious.

"gonna cum- gonna cum, oh fuck.."

you do. it's heaven. the gates are in front of you when you are embraced by the enchanting kiss of an orgasm. cum coating his cock, remnants of the way you worked so hard.

"me too, princess, gonna- gonna give it to you-"

the severity of his own forces him to pull away from your suckled, swollen nipples. a string of saliva breaking down onto your breast. with force he takes brief, very brief control, and slams you down upon him. the biggest motivator for him to shoot his load inside of you was feeling you cum. that was enough for him. and an extreme turn on.

it feels otherworldly when you feel him unload inside of you. a stranger. filling you up with his hot cum. decorating your insides with arousing moments.

while trying to catch your breath, you two stare at each other. eyes looking for disapproval in each other. you don't find any. just satisfaction, and hints of longing.

amidst the gasps and beckons for air. helpless pants. the rain peeps through the windows, shattering every sense of urgency. tapping along the hood.

fingers trace circles on your back, gingerly grazing, "stay here for a moment."

#jackson healy smut #jackson healy #the nice guys smut #the nice guys fic #the nice guys 2016 #the nice guys #nice guys smut #jackson healy x reader #jackson healy fic #russell crowe smut #holland march #holland march smut

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hoppingonjim · 1 year ago

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Thinking about a threesome with March and Healy where Healy is the gentler, nicer one. Praising the reader and making sure she feels good and then March is the meaner one. Mocking and teasing and just being a dick. idk man I’m a slut and I want both

TLDR: requesting good cop/bad cop (good detective/bad detective?) threesome with March and Healy content 🙏🙏🙏

INVESTIGATE ! - jackson healy + holland march

note: so sorry for how long this took! kept rewriting it lmaoo. i love this request since i too, am a slut for both. (jackson more but sssshhh) hope this is good!

cw: afab! reader. dom!holland. soft dom!jackson. sub!reader. degrading, impact play, slight throat fucking, creampie, unprotected sex, p in v, oral male receiving, praising, 2/3 holes filled (my dream). reader is cuffed and set a building on fire, so arson i suppose.

“only such a fucking slut would be turned on by fucking cuffs. say it, say you're a fucking slut.”

“ease up there march, don't you think that's a little rude? she's still a lady.”

“she's a fucking slut.”

the mustache man is pounding into you. hard, aggressive. another blow is landed on your ass cheek, the supple skin stinging with every aggressive smack. you've got your hands behind your back, bound by the chilled metal cuffs. another smack on your ass and holland settles his hand onto the gradual vanishing print, his nails digging into the flesh in greed. all the while you were crying out, whimpers filling your tongue and air around you in pleasure as you continued to press your reddened ass against his hand. begging for more.

the bigger man is settled in front of you, his cock hard. his tip engorged, red, leaking with pre cum the more he continues to watch the porno unfolding in front of his own eyes. licking his lips, his eyes stalk your every move. every heave, every wavering motion, every gasp. a hand combs through your hair as a means to settle you, his lips in a mix of stern and pouty, “doing so good for him, princess. bet you're nice and tight- but i can't stop looking at these pretty lips of yours. you mind putting them to use?” for a brief moment his large finger grazes over every imprint, line and dent molded into your bottom lip, coating the tip in your spit for a brief moment. hungry eyes meet your cock drunk ones - you've barely been fucked- and you both realize he should've been in your mouth a while ago.

all he needs from you is a nod, and his tip is suddenly suctioned with your lips. the pressure already forcing a groan from his parted lips, his mouth surrendering to the grunts of pleasure. holland rolls his eyes at his, digging his nails harsher into your bruised ass. the feeling of your tight pussy clenching him is heavenly, even holland can't deny that.

jackson's groans begin to intertwine with your whimpers as praises fall droplet by droplet from his parted lips, “you're already doing so good, take a little more for me baby, c'mon.”

a scoff flees from holland's lips until he spanks you several times in a row, “fuck, you like having a fucking cock in your mouth? i thought sluts like you only existed in pornos- you should feel how fucking soaked she is healy-” his own hand begins to slightly sting as he revels in the way you arch your back, your whimpers vibrating against jackson's cock- pulling harsher groans from the man. thick fingers run through your hair as the enforcers hips begin to introduce a sensation of grinding.

“fuck march, shut up, she's doing so good for me, already doing so perfect, huh baby?” those rough fingers trace gentle patterns onto your cheek. you begin to bob your head along the thickness of his cock, drool slipping off your lips. collecting around your chin, falling onto the girth of his pre cum dressed cock. his lips are surrendering to helpless groans as he encourages your cheeks to grow hollow, his thumb pressing the dent carefully onto the full skin.

the hand on your cheek migrates to your flowing tresses once again. the sweat building up is greeted by his fingers, combing and treating your strands to comfort. pushing the orphaned locks away from your face, “give me those pretty little eyes, c'mon princess,” always obedient, you wear an innocent gaze as your doll eyes gaze up at him, doe-like, “fuck yes, you listen so good princess.” and he's already falling to his pleasure.

the man's tepid grinds morph into desperate bucks. you've barely scarfed his cock down the depth of your throat and he swears he's already seeing stars. to amp up his desperation, he gingerly brought his pelvis closer towards your nose, introducing your throat to the fullness of his cock. immediately you gagged, the soul patch clad man behind you, ruining you, smirking so broadly.

“i know you can take it, you're doing so good for me.. fuck princess, that's it, such a good girl.” all because you're eagerly deepthroating the muscle man, the sound of your choking delighting him twistedly above all.

meanwhile holland's ramming his cock ruthlessly into your soaked cunt.

every time. he's holding your hips, slamming your ass against his pelvis so you can feel him penetrate you deeper. all while displaying a perverted grin at the sound of slapping skin, “fucking whore- mouth full of one man's cock while you let the other fuck you. you gonna let me cum inside you? pump you full of my cum?”

and shockingly enough you nod. all holland needed was the green light. but before he finally gave into those twitching sensations, he tugged on a fistful of your hair, forcing you to just barely look back at him, “you look like such a fucking whore- fucking hell..” and with those words he slapped your cheek before releasing you. minutes before releasing his hot cum into you, biting his bottom lip harshly as he soaked up the wonderous feeling. his high feeling more serendipitous.

jackson doesn't go to your unneeded aid when holland slaps your cheek, mainly because his own cock is twitching relentlessly and he so badly needs to fill your throat with his cum. an uncharacteristic whine slips out from the crevices of his lips. his balls are heavy- god the man needs to cum, you can just see it. and he does after one subtle ram into your mouth, coating your throat in his seed.

“oh god, oh god.. swallow for me baby, swallow all of it. i know you can, you were so good.” his eyes remain soft as his finger slips down to venture the curvature of your jawline. his fingertip kissing every arising goosebump.

your obedience shines once more as you merrily swallow all of his cum, leaving his cock with a pretty pop of your lips. licking your lips afterwards, still yearning for any leftovers.

abruptly holland hugs you off of all fours and onto his lap, the new angle forcing you to cry out his name, “mr march! holy shit!”

a smirk remains on his lips but only seems to broaden as he raises your hips up before plummeting them back onto his cock, delighting in every scream that ran from your tongue.

“you're gonna cum on my cock you whore, c'mon, i know a desperate whore like you is just begging to fucking cum..”

jackson feels an impetus to lean in, his thumb crafting delicate circles onto your clit whilst he leans in, “c'mon darling, cum for him, you know you can do it. i know you can do it,” he whispers, his thumb kissing your sensitive, needy bud, coated in arousal.

words don't leave your lips, only moans and whines. a few screams entangled in the bunch. you can feel yourself clench around holland, your hips and thighs beginning to quiver with anticipation as your high comes knocking on the door of your mind. and you give in, letting the sweet release bombard you. holland can feel the intensity, he's groaning so loudly in pleasure. feeling pleased with your submissiveness towards every single one of his requests. jackson doesn't let up however, he assists you in riding out the high with palming your clit. his rough palm, the aged lines, adding onto the experience. the texture toying with your abused clit.

“oh, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh god- oh mr march- oh mr healy.” everything is chopped however, leaving your mouth at different moments.

holland doesn't feel like sitting up anymore, and the man flops down. jackson meticulously brushes your hair once more, making your stunning face the focal point, “you were amazing darling, so so perfect.”

in all his sinful breathiness, with his cock still inside of you, holland speaks up, panting for anything that can relieve the lack of air in his system, his eyes still sinisterly sensual.

“don't think you'll get this cock though every time you light a building on fire.”

"mr march, can you take the cuffs off now?"

#holland march #the nice guys #holland march smut #jackson healy #holland march x reader #nice guys #ryan gosling smut #russell crowe #ryan gosling x reader #holland march fic #request managed📬#jackson healy smut #the nice guys smut #the nice guys fic #nice guys x reader #russell crowe smut

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hoppingonjim · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! Can you write a smut about Jackson getting a blowjob from reader in return to him beating up her stalker? Thank you!

summary: jackson helped you out, you've paid, but you know another way to show him appreciation cw: touch starved jackson, oral (m!recieving) afab!reader. sex in exchange (somewhat) for something else. dom!jackson healy. gagging & choking, swallowing, face fucking, readers a throat goat, jackson needs control.

note: i am so sorry if this didn't turn out how you wanted it to, i'm not the best at writing blow jobs although i do try.. if you want it redone i can certainly do that.

he was supposed to be on his way. the door was meant to be shut. his car was meant to no longer occupy the narrow driveway that belonged to you.

“you really helped me out mr healy, he couldn't stop bothering me.. now he is- i really do appreciate it. i want.. can i just-" you need to take a breath to fix up the right words, "i just .. i figured i could do something, maybe, to show you how much you helped me out.”

a saccharine tone is ringing in his ears now. it breathed curiosity into his lips, "you've paid me already." the ignorant man would laugh in your direction, a teasing shake of the head being gifted to you.

"let me suck your dick, mr healy."

the way he needs you is so much more than want. it's the way no hands have graced him since his ex wife. it's the way he cannot look at the collection of two playboys anymore due to boredom. and still the way he will never step foot into a store and ask for porn.

need is the only label he feels right with. you've backed him up against the wall. glossed wooden floors scrape your knees. he's finally about to feel need again, the pain is worth.

thick fingers interrupt the streams of tresses falling from your head. every wind delicate, intimate. licking his lips is the glass box for his nerves. the centerfold for worries, “you sure you want to do this? i haven't.. i might - cum - too soon. are you sure?”

the rasp registers sweetly in your ears, gravels a fine melody “that means i'm doing something right, mr healy. let me take care of you. let me repay you.”

for that moment he can only provide you a stiff nod. the soft stroking of your hair is put on pause for cautious grips of strand filled handfuls. nothing too hard, he doesn't want to hurt you. never before had he poured delicacy into his fists.

it isn't difficult for you to remove his jeans. the zipper isn't moody. collecting around his ankles, his baggy run jeans bunch in unison with his boxers. a deep breath as he comes to face the fact that he's exposed in front of you. your smile staring directly at his hard cock.

“darling,” he starts off, his voice hesitant but only slightly, “i.. can't take teasing. so you've gotta give mr healy something.”

that's enough for you. cherry stained lips wrap his tip gently. tightening carefully as one hand finds stability on his strong thigh while the other finds enjoyment in massaging his balls. the soft pink insides of your cheek envelope around his tip. ten years without affection towards his dick, and here you were, offering it up as an added bonus payment. like it was just nothing. his breathing no longer can uphold a smooth pace. by the milliseconds it grew bumpy. hitches lodging words in the barrel of his throat. the warmth of your lips deserts his tip for a brief moment until your tongue fills the void. swirling itself teasingly over his tip, brushing over the spilling precum.

where your mouth hasn't ventured your hands soon explore, he wouldn't whine about the loss of touch on his full balls. one hand begins to pump him with an increasingly tight grip. the strong man above you feels helpless against the wall, his head already tilting back as he battles with irises to stay applauding you. you've barely even touched him, you still have so much more to show him. pumping soon conjures into twists. each one abrupt before it becomes consistent. as much as you want to stay focused on his desperate cock, you'd rather flutter your eyelashes at the man above. the rugged man who's shaken hands with death too many times. brass and bruised. he swears to himself he can cum just by the exuberance of youth dashing around your pupils. the glint of mischief.

soon you made a show of swallowing the spit pooling in your mouth, opening wide to show off the glistening cock resting on your tongue to jackson, before your tongue wraps around and licks again, your eyes close for a moment to savor the taste, only to open again. eager as always. with your lips suctioned around his weeping tip you warm his thick cock. the very tightness leaves again, you're aching to just get the man a little wound up. again. you hold the suction till you leave his cock with a pop, returning back to the head to place a gentle kiss. a taunting one, nonetheless.

a low growl flees from his throat at the scene of you. his cock all red, head engorged in unfulfilled need. he doesn't want to be mean, but it's only slightly in his nature. and he falls victim again, “c'mon, don't tease me princess. just- just suck my dick. c'mon.”

how could a man go from warning you to begging?

with lips a sticky mess of spit and precum, you soon are smiling with half his cock stuffed in your mouth. where your mouth doesn't reach again you resume your pumping. each pump slow and wanting. your cheeks hollow as you begin to bob your head. a line of spit hanging recklessly from the bottom of your lip. jackson knows he can't be picky, but he needs more. he's got to have more. but your pumping quickens, the thought of his cum embellishing your taste buds an exciting one. the bobs quicken too, although you grow messier and less organized with each bob.

a scruff decorated jaw would fall leaving his mouth gaping. low groans are soaked up by the thin walls, surprising. the delicacy swimming in his hands dries up as desperation forces him to grasp. the gentle giant seems to be fading. a face etched with lines of fists displays a glare. inadvertently with his newfound tight grasp he pushes your head further down. the room jumps with the chorus of gags from you that follow, eyes already welcoming subtle ponds around the waterline.

but it feels so good. eagerly, you show him how fast you can suck him. beggarly you tighten your lips around his girth. jackson isn't a man of patience, he needs control. whines transcend into constant groans as he drags your head off his cock, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he witnessed your spit smeared lips growing puffier. then with no warning he shoves your head back down the length of his cock. all the way. you're unable to do anything but choke and welcome the lack of room in your throat. even his hips began to join in, savagely bucking themselves against you, introducing your throat rudely to his cock. it became a struggle to even breath, your nostrils flared wide.

he watched as your eyes became floods. mascara all ruined. slamming his cock into you over and over, the enforcer cradles your cheek in his palm. a thumb shakily casting aside stray hands of hair that fall from your disheveled ponytail. as your mouth lets his cock abuse your lips and throat, his thighs grow weak, trembling. as much as he hates it, he throws his head back. it doesn't take long before he's shooting his cum down your throat- but the thrusting halts. instead he uses a hand to strongly keep your head at the base of his cock, your gags and struggle to get some air in arousing him beyond belief, “that's it, be a good girl, take my cum. fuck yeah, take this damn cum. so good.. so fucking good to me.”

you're a good girl, and you swallow. his profanities fondling you as you take in all his release. throat coated in his cum. with gasps for any air you can get, you pull away. wetness painted on the inside of your thighs.

it takes him a moment for him to end his panting. the groans and growls waving goodbye to him once your mouth leaves his cock. softly, he adorns your cheek with his other hand, thumb grazing over the apple.

“you did so good for me.. so good. looked so pretty just now, choking on my cock. you like that? choking on mr healy's cock?”

the name you so often referred to him as haunts you, though you greet it with open arms, “i loved tasting you, mr healy.” collecting the mess of yourself, you stand up, still feeling like something close to prey beside him.

in a movement perhaps guised as loving, he pulls you in and houses your body within his arms, thick and brawny, ready to keep you by his heaving chest.

“no ones given me that in ten years.. maybe more- thank you holy fuck thank you.”

#jackson healy smut #jackson healy #the nice guys #the nice guys smut #russell crowe smut #jackson healy x reader #request managed📬#holland march #the nice guys 2016

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ken-dom · 1 year ago

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Accidental Innuendo

Holland March x Jackson Healy

Summary: During a disagreement, Jackson is level headed. Holland is insane with lust

Author’s notes: As usual, I have my pals on the Goosecord to blame for this one, and to thank, too, because they’re endlessly supportive 🩷

Warnings/content: nsfw, masturbation, making out, a lot of cum (you know the Holland March drill)

‘I’m gonna need you to sit on it tonight, March.’

That was all it took. An innocent phrase that tipped Holland over the edge from Healy’s looking handsome today and I can’t let him know it felt a bit too good when he grabbed my arm to I need him right fucking now Jesus Christ-

Jackson was simply referring to a theory they’d been discussing (or, more accurately, bickering over) on their current case. They’d been going around in circles for half an hour, so, being the more level headed of the two, he had intended to send Holland off to think things through, clear his mind and come back to the matter fresh in the morning.

He was blissfully unaware that what he’d actually done was overwhelm his partner with a haze of desire so strong, Holland could barely wait for the car to stop before he jumped out.

‘Alright, see you tomorrow!’ Holland called, stumbling over himself as he made his way hurriedly down the path, swinging an arm into the air as a hasty goodbye salute.

‘Night-’

Jackson furrowed his brow, watching Holland scurry into his house, half worried he’d upset his partner, and half concerned Holland might do something unintentionally insane to prove his point.

Holland, however, had completely forgotten all about their disagreement. His mind was occupied with what Jackson had said last, regardless of the intention behind it. It really had been the final straw.

The second he was inside, he slammed the door shut, turned the lock, and freed his leaking cock from the uncomfortably tight confines of his trousers, wrapping his hand around his achingly hard length and stroking fast with a relieved sigh, precum dripping onto the floor.

There was no time to undress. No time for a build up, to get comfortable or tease himself or really even enjoy the journey. He just needed to cum. Right. Now.

‘Fuck- shit-’ he spat as he furiously pumped his cock, forehead pressed to the door with his free hand braced beside it to keep him upright as his hips stuttered and his legs rapidly grew weak beneath him.

Jackson was very much at the forefront of Holland’s lust-addled mind the whole time. The low, calm, even tone with which he’d asked Holland to sit on it, and the way it might feel if Holland did just that. He whined at the thought of being filled with his partner, those big strong hands gripping his hips, guiding him and bruising him and-

‘H-Healy- ah!- oh, Jesus-’

Jackson was still outside in the car, turning over Holland’s lighter in his hand. He’d left it behind in his quick exit, and while it wasn’t unusual for Holland to lose things and be generally forgetful, Jackson had noticed he’d been acting skittish around him all day. He was also sure Holland would have an infinite number of lighters around the house, but this one? The silver one engraved with a message from his wife was one he never left behind.

‘Fuck, I’m gonna have to go after him,’ Jackson reasoned quietly, climbing out of the car and strolling down the driveway to Holland’s front door.

Holland remained pressed against the other side of it, hand still wrapped around his cock as it softened in his grip. He was panting for breath, heart steadily slowing after his climax, shirt and jacket and tie covered in splatters of his thick ejaculate — and an extra offering of it dripping down the door and pooled on the floor between his feet, too.

He recognised Jackson’s unmistakable knock from the other side immediately, head snapping up as the sound vibrated through his body. Jackson had such big, meaty hands, and as Holland’s mind briefly wandered to them again, he felt a new stir of arousal in his soft cock and moaned far too loudly.

‘March?’ Jackson called, slightly muffled from outside. ‘You alright in there?’

‘Yeah,’ Holland squeaked weakly.

‘You left something in the car, could you let me in?’

‘Uh-’

‘Holland March, if you don’t open this door and show me you’re ok I’m gonna kick it down and see for myself.’

‘Shit shit shit-’

‘March, do you hear me?’

‘Argh, alright!’ Holland groaned, peeling himself fully away from the door and raising his arms in surrender. He hastily tucked his cock back into his damp underwear and fastened up his trousers, his whole body trembling as he reached for the lock and creaked the door open a crack, poking his face through the thin gap.

‘What is it?’ he drawled as casually as he could muster.

Jackson immediately noticed the disarray of Holland’s hair, the dazed, glossy look in his eyes, the flushed cheeks.

Something wasn’t right.

‘Open the door,’ he instructed.

‘No.’

‘Open it.’

‘No!’

‘Now, March!’

‘No! No no no no-’

Jackson pushed the door open with ease, sliding Holland out of the way with it.

Once inside, Jackson held out the lighter, which, with an almost undetectable sob, Holland took and slid into a pocket inside the breast of his jacket.

‘Thank you,’ he muttered, patting his chest where the lighter sat safe again, ‘now you’ve seen that I’m alive and returned my things could you please get out-’

Jackson wasn’t listening. His eyes had trained on where Holland had patted his jacket. ‘What is that?’

‘What?’

‘That shit all over your jacket-’ Jackson reached forward and collected some of the substance with two fingers, sliding his glasses down over his eyes and bringing it up to his face to inspect.

Holland froze to the spot, trembling uncontrollably.

Jackson didn’t say a word as his eyes narrowed and he pushed his glasses back up into his hair, rubbing the substance delicately between his thumb and forefinger. His expression was unreadable and made Holland feel extremely uneasy.

‘If you were so horny you could barely wait to get through the door, why didn’t you just say?’ Jackson said softly.

Holland grimaced. ‘Why the fuck would I tell you I needed to jerk off? I jerked off last night, you wanna know about that too, huh?’

‘Last night? Jesus Christ. And because I could have helped you out with it, you idiot.’

Holland’s eyes widened. Had he been so obvious that even Jackson knew? And he felt the same?!

Of course, he had been obvious, and all the pieces clicked into place so easily for Jackson once he realised what Holland had been up to behind that door.

‘Fuck,’ Holland breathed, still shaking, his senstive cock hardening again. He shifted uncomfortably, wishing he hadn’t zipped his trousers back up; it was a tight enough squeeze when he was soft.

‘Jesus Christ, March,’ Jackson shook his head, ‘come here.’

Holland stepped forward to where Jackson was leaning against the back of his couch, and then Jackson was holding him, their lips sliding together, a hand snaking between their flush bodies to feel Holland’s straining length.

It felt so safe, so heavenly, so exciting that, still in a post-orgasm haze, Holland turned dizzy and had to pull back for breath.

Jackson smiled, caressing his partners back lovingly, giving him time to ground himself.

He happened to glance over Holland’s shoulder while Holland was busy steadying himself against Jackson’s.

‘Jesus, March!’

‘What?’ Holland mumbled into Jackson’s neck.

‘You only jerked off once, right? You must have done, it can’t have been more than a couple of minutes…’

‘Look there’s no need to shame me, I’ve been worked up all day and then you told me to sit on you! I lasted last night alright? I went for-’

‘No, no, I don’t give a fuck how quick you came, March, and I told you to sit on it — the issue of our case, remember? But I’m more concerned about the puddle on the floor over there. And you’re hard again? How much you got in there?’

Holland, still dazed, straightened (with a little wince at the sensitivity of Jackson’s palm still pressed to his cock over his trousers) and glanced back. ‘Yeah,’ he shrugged, ‘that’s what it’s like.’

‘Fuck. I gotta see this for myself.’

And then Healy was all over him again, standing from his perched position on the back of the sofa to envelop Holland completely, shuffling them both toward the bedroom where he planned to lay his partner down, strip him bare and find out just how much he had to give.

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ken-dom · 1 year ago

Text

Dare To Dream

Holland March x Jackson Healy

2k words

Summary: There’s only one bed!

Author’s notes: Inspired by @ken-f-cker’s idea, sanity checked by @heresthestorymorningglory and @hollandstrophyhusband — thank you all 🩷

Warnings/content: nsfw, wet dream, frottage, smoking, somnophilia mention

‘There’s only one bed,’ Jackson muttered, unceremoniously dropping his overnight bag onto the dresser and folding his arms. ‘Last available room and theres only one fuckin’ bed!’

Holland, who had darted past Jackson the second the motel door clicked open, emerged from the bathroom, frazzled and blissfully unaware of Jackson’s concerns, for he had his own.

‘There’s no bath!’ he exclaimed, dramatically throwing his arms up in the air and propping them on his hips as he paced. ‘What am I gonna- fuck.’

Jackson’s eyes slid shut as he realised what he’d overlooked; the bed didn’t matter. Or at least it wouldn’t have, if there’d been a bath, because Holland rarely slept in a bed for fear of lighting himself, whoever was beside him or the whole building, on fire.

With a pang of guilt, Jackson took a steadying breath and stepped forward, gently plucking the cigarette out from between Holland’s trembling lips, carefully stubbing it out in an ashtray. Holland looked as though he might protest, but he calmed when Jackson slid a hand into his trouser pocket to find the lighter he kept there and dropped it into the pocket over his own chest instead.

‘There, see? You’ll be fine. And since it looks like we’re sharing tonight, I’ll be right next to you, alright? I won’t let anything bad happen, March. I promise.’

Holland’s eyes had turned wide during Jackson’s speech and by the end of it he all but stopped breathing. Holland was not at all phased by the lack of a second bed, and was no longer plagued with the thought of setting the both of them alight if he didn’t sleep in a bathtub.

No, Holland’s concern was now entirely focussed on the thrill he had felt when Jackson’s thick fingers pulled at the cigarette hanging from his lips and then grazed his cock when he slipped his big meaty hand into the tight confines of Holland’s trouser pocket.

Jackson didn’t know he’d done that, of course; it was an entirely innocent move, designed to take care of Holland in a way only he knew how.

Even just the way Jackson made him feel safe so easily was enough to set his heart racing.

‘Which side do you want?’

Jackson’s simple question snapped Holland back to the present, and he stuttered out a vague, ‘Uh- th-that side,’ pointing to the side of the bed closest to where he stood.

He didn’t actually care which side he slept at, he just wanted the unfortunately timed pull of arousal he felt between his legs to stop before he got hard enough for it to be obvious — which would be a bit of a task in these trousers. He’d never been able to fight off a boner with sheer will power alone, and he supposed this would be no different.

Shit.

Holland dived onto the mattress, hurrying beneath the covers with a scuffle, as Jackson watched the commotion with a raised eyebrow.

‘Nothing I haven’t seen before, March,’ Jackson huffed to himself, amused, as the ruckus died down and Holland had stripped down to his vest and underwear, his clothes now in a pile on the floor beside the bed.

Shaking his head, Jackson joined Holland at the other side of the bed, carefully undressing and folding his clothes on the nightstand before slipping under the covers himself.

‘Night, March,’ he yawned, turning out the light and attempting to get comfortable with the single lumpy pillow.

‘...Night, Healy,’ came a weak voice from within the dark beside him.

****

‘H-Healy- oh, Hea- ha- ohh-mmh-’

Jackson shot up, flicking on the lamp and scanning the room before he even realised he was conscious.

‘March? March what’s wrong? What’s-’

He gradually became aware that the bed was rocking, the creaking mattress springs bringing him fully into the present

Holland’s breath was fast and heavy, knuckles white as his fingers gripped the pillow he was face-down on, head turned away just enough for it not to muffle his desperate moans.

Jacksons heart still hammered in his chest, the instinct to act fast in the face of a threat fresh in his veins, but he was glad the unsettling sound had woken him now that he had been greeted with the sight of Holland humping the mattress and moaning his name.

Relief flooded Jackson, whilst heat simultaneously rushed to his core, his cock swelling faster at the sight of this display than any fantasy he played out in his mind. Even the ones about Holland.

Probably because, as sexy as they were, deep down he thought they’d never amount to anything real and that dulled the thrill significantly. But this? This was very real.

‘Hey, March? March I’m awake.’ Jackson spoke softly, placing a gentle hand on Holland’s shoulder.

No response. Jesus. This was a wet dream? Jackson’s cock twitched. If Holland was this eager and needy in his sleep, imagine him awake… imagine him riding Jackson’s cock…

‘Oh boy,’ Jackson breathed, desperately fighting the urge to push his hand into his boxers and get off to his partner getting off to a dream of him.

This was seriously fucked up.

Jackson shook his head, forcing his thoughts into his brain and away from his dick.

Holland’s hips stuttered then, and he rolled onto his back, still bucking his hips as his torso lifted from the mattress, the sheer force of his orgasm causing his body to jolt upward, and just as he spilled his release, thick and hot, inside his already soaked underwear with a low, relieved groan, his eyes popped open and he screamed.

Turning to see that the object of desire from his dream was actually beside him made him scream again.

‘Jesus!’ Holland screeched, trembling and sweating and flopping back onto the pillow.

‘Before you say a word, March, it was a dream. Yes, I did witness it all, and I… I know what it was about. Just… don’t be embarrassed, ok?’

Holland’s huge hands came up to cover his red, sweaty face as he processed Jackson’s words whilst still in a post orgasm haze, his seed pooling uncomfortably between his spread thighs.

‘Hey, hey, it’s alright, we all have them. Wet dreams. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.’

Jackson’s voice was so tender, and Holland was processing so much, that he felt tears slipping from his eyes, wetting his palms.

‘And, March… I actually don’t mind that you think of me that way.’

‘You don’t?’ Holland squeaked, peeking from between two of the fingers covering his eyes.

‘Not at all.’

‘But I didn’t mean to! Shit, I’m so sorry, Healy.’

‘Don’t be.’

Holland dropped his hands by his side, wincing at the way the covers pulled over his twitching, softening cock.

‘You’ll never wanna share a room with me again now.’

‘Oh I think I will. And a bed, too, in fact.’

Slowly, Hollands turned to Jackson, revealing a very wet, very flushed face, his hair still sticking to his forehead and his blue eyes sparklingly wet.

‘You- you mean?’

Jackson slid closer to Holland and cupped his damp face in a big soft palm.

‘Do you trust me?’

‘Huh?’ Holland gazed at Jackson like a lost puppy.

‘I said, do you trust-’

‘Yeah, yeah I trust you. More than anyone.’

‘Give me your hand.’

Holland darted back, eyes wide. ‘You’re not gonna- you’re not breaking my other arm for this?’

Jackson chuckled softly, shaking his head.

‘No, March. Here-’

Cautiously, Holland offered his hand, and Jackson took it, so tenderly that butterflies exploded in his stomach.

Holland trembled as Jackson guided his hand beneath the covers, straight to his cock, still hard and straining against his underwear.

‘See? You did that.’

‘Jesus…’ Holland breathed, feeling heat spread down to his core again already.

‘Come here,’ Jackson breathed, and Holland pushed forward, his lips closing over Jackson’s, soft and needy.

Jackson rolled his hips, sliding his cock up against Hollands, both of shuddering with excitement at the sensation, Holland’s untouched yet overstimulated length swelling again.

‘Jesus, March, you’re wet,’ Jackson breathed, ‘you got anything left?’

‘Oh, there’ll be plenty,’ Holland smirked, as Jackson’s thick fingers slipped under the elastic of Holland’s underwear to pull it down. ‘This ok?’

Holland nodded desperately and Jackson dragged his palm up his sensitive length.

‘Ah!’

‘Mmh, Jesus, you’re big-’

‘I am?’

‘What, you didn’t know? You’re huge, March.’

Holland didn’t answer again, he just smirked, the smug grin knocked clean off his face when Jackson pressed his own cock against Hollands and started stroking them both.

‘How do you like it, huh? Hard? Soft? Fast?’

Holland’s eyes were half closed, and all that came out of his mouth was an incomprehensible string of moans and gasps.

Jackson rolled his eyes despite the way Holland’s moans made his cock twitch, a smile pulling at his lips as he leant in to suck at Holland’s neck. He’d just have to feel his way through to learn Holland’s body.

The way Holland was whimpering and bucking his hips, Jackson knew he was somehow close again already, and his own cock was desperately throbbing for release inside his grip, slippery with their combined precum.

‘Mmh, fuck, March, y-you feel so fucking good,’ he rasped into Holland’s ear, pulling back to admire his pleasure contorted face, pretty mouth dropped open and eyes squeezed shut. Jesus, he really was beautiful.

And the sounds he was making?! They were nothing short of lewd. While Jackson huffed and grunted a perfectly reasonable amount, a thrill shot to his core each time Holland moaned like a porn star in almost every exhale.

Jackson finally tipped over the edge with Holland rutting desperately into his fist, the underside of their slick cocks brushing together wildly within his firmly pumping grip the friction of that alone would have sufficed.

He spilled his seed with a low growl, and Holland, who had needed a little extra time after his recent orgasm-disguised-as-a-wake-up-call, followed, filling the room (and potentially the neighbouring ones) with an obscenely loud and strangled yell, humming and gasping his way down from his second high with a litany of, ‘Fuck, Jesus, fuck, Jesus- fuck!!!’ between each ragged breath.

‘You good, March?, Jackson smirked, propping himself up on an elbow to watch Holland, who had rolled onto his back and was struggling to form a single coherent thought.

‘What the fuck was that?!’ Holland squeaked. ‘Why did that feel so goddamn good? Never- I’ve never- Jesus!’

Jackson laid down beside him, quite happy with that result, and watched him as his breath settled and his thoughts returned to his usual level of chaos (as opposed to sexed up chaos).

‘What you’ve never been with a guy?’

‘Not that, Jesus- well, I haven’t actually, but I meant- I’ve never cum so fucking hard in my life!’

Jackson laughed heartily, flopping back onto his pillow. ‘You seemed to be doing alright in your sleep,’ he smirked. ‘You wanna cigarette? I’ll stay awake for you until you’re done.’

‘Fuck. Yes. Jesus. Need a cigarette, please and thank you.’

‘You know, I don’t mind sharing beds from now on if that’s the kinda night we’ll have,’ Jackson mused as he rummaged for Holland’s lighter and a cigarette from the discarded packet on the nightstand.

‘Really? You’d wanna… wanna do it again? With me?’

‘Hey don’t be so surprised. You’re not the only one who has wet dreams about us.’

‘Why? Who else does?’ Holland frowned, deep in thought as Healy popped a cigarette between his lips and flicked on the lighter, holding it out for him.

He waited until he saw the lightbulb switch on behind Holland’s eyes.

‘You mean you- you?!’

‘Yeah, I wanted that as much as you did, March.’

‘Fuck. Jesus.’

‘Now get your fix and get some sleep, we have an early morning tomorrow.’

‘Shit.’

‘I’ll wake you up. I can wake you up even earlier if you want me to…’ Jackson breathed, licking his lips, his seductive tone making Holland whine around his cigarette.

He stubbed it out, threw himself onto his pillow and closed his eyes.

‘I’ll take that as a yes?’ Jackson drawled.

Holland nodded eagerly, and seconds later he was snoring, having fallen into a much more peaceful, restful sleep.

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