Word Count: 2,400
Pairing: Cobb/Nash, established relationship
Rating: R for sexytimes and Nash's filthy mouth
Summary: Office AU, sort of. Written for this kinkmeme prompt: "Nash loves Cobb in spite of his erectile dysfunction."
Enticements: barebacking, power play
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Author's Note: I think I may be a little cracked in the head, honestly. I mean, I wrote Cobb/Nash without angst. How does that even happen?
ETA: This story now has podfic, courtesy of the lovely koushi, who is tireless in her encouragement of my porn endeavors. ♥
It was easy enough for Nash to let it slide the first time it happened. There were a lot of firsts that night. First real job after his unemployment benefits ran out, the first Friday he let himself go out and get fantastically, boot-sloshingly drunk, and the first time he’d dragged his boss-turned-boyfriend back to his shitty first-floor apartment. Quickies in the break room just weren’t cutting it anymore.
Cobb was tearing at his clothes and biting his lips bloody, the two of them fumbling around in the dark. Nash didn’t know where Cobb was going, only that he was trying to find the switch. They stumbled into a low table and sent one of his lamps crashing to the floor at roughly the same moment light flooded into the room.
“Slow down a little, tiger,” Nash laughed. “I won’t break but that don’t mean the rest of my shit won’t.”
“Fuck it, we’ll get you another,” Cobb said dismissively, hands palming his ass hard enough to bruise. Possessive—Nash liked that. “Bed, now.”
They made it in there after some more stumbling. Nash wriggled out of his jeans and t-shirt so Cobb, whose tugs had been well-meaning but done fuck all, could get at him.
“Gonna fuck you so hard,” Cobb breathed against his throat, rutting into the hollow of his hip and jerking him clumsily. Nash smiled, probably more amused than he should have been, and worked on giving himself a quick lube-job. Just enough to slick the way. He wanted to feel a bit of a stretch tonight.
“Think you can make me beg for it?”
“Oh, you’ll beg,” Cobb said, alternating between licks and bites and kisses to his shoulder. “You’ll scream and plead for more. You’ll never let anyone else fuck you when I’m done with you.”
He pushed Nash’s fingers out of the way and replaced them with two of his own, fucking him with quick, short jabs that made him arch up off the bed with a sound somewhere between a moan and a laugh.
“Less talking, more fucking. Let’s go, Cobb.”
He tugged on the man’s cock and lined them up. Cobb pushed and Nash moaned, gloriously, achingly full—for all of ten seconds. Suddenly what was turning out to be the greatest bonus of his career slipped right through his fingers. Cobb mumbled something into his shoulder, unintelligible and oddly still.
There weren’t a lot of tactful ways to ask and Nash, honestly, didn’t really care about tact.
“Did you just come?” He did care about getting fucked beyond tonight, however. He cared a lot. “I mean, it’s cool, you can just finish me off however—”
“I lost, you know...” Cobb gestured awkwardly, rolled off of him and onto his side. “I—fuck, I’m sorry.”
“You’re fine, man, just—how about you let me suck you?” Nash ran a hand over his back, Cobb’s spine tense under his palm. “I’ll get you back up, baby. You nervous or something?”
Cobb shrugged him off. “I don’t drink this much usually, you know. I think I just had one too many or something.”
“Probably the alcohol, then. Don’t worry about it.” Nash curled an arm around his middle. “We’ll try again some other time.”
‘Some other time’ worked out to be a couple of days into the work week when Nash was sure Cobb wouldn’t have anything but caffeine in his system. Nash caught him with his pants down—literally, as it happened—shaking himself dry at the urinal. He slid a hand around Cobb’s hip.
“Miss me, baby?”
Nash narrowly missed getting elbowed when Cobb started. He laughed. “You creep. Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to sneak up on a guy when he’s taking a piss?”
“Sure, but you know me. I don’t always do what I’m told.” He took Cobb in hand and started to pull. “Anyway, you looked pretty finished to me.”
Cobb went tense immediately. “Not at work, Nash. We’ve got things to do today.”
Nash murmured around his earlobe. “Come on, five minutes. It’ll get done. Don’t be such a prude. You were perfectly fine fucking at work when you sucked my dick in the copy room two weeks ago.”
Best Monday ever.
“Paperwork doesn’t do itself,” Cobb said.
Nash snorted. “Like you give a rat’s ass. You’ve got plenty of lackeys that ain’t doing shit back there. Let them handle it.” Cobb was starting to waver, anyway. Paperwork? That was his best excuse? Nash sped up his hand, jerking a moan out of Cobb. “Fuck the paperwork.”
“Jesus, Nash,” Cobb deadpanned, “who could argue with that logic?”
“Oh, fuck you,” Nash laughed. “Shut up and come already.”
Nash was used to saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, but it still surprised him when, instead of finishing, Cobb went soft in his fist. Just like that. Well, fuck. Talk about taking things too personally.
Even Cobb’s dick was getting passive-aggressive lately.
He let go and Cobb turned. “Nash, look—”
“Hey, man, it’s cool. Work’s a boner kill, I get it.” He washed his hands and dried them while Cobb did up his fly again. He grinned. “Just know that come quarter, I’m gonna hit you on that performance review.”
Cobb smacked his arm. “Get back to work before I fire you, you little shit.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
So, fucking your boss (okay, getting fucked by your boss) wasn’t exactly the greatest idea mankind had ever had, but it was definitely on Nash’s personal top ten, if you set aside the fact that, for every time he got Cobb off, there were two or three other occasions where it just… didn’t happen. Cobb always had some excuse. He was too drunk, too stressed, too tired—which was fine, but between Nash and his needs, it was information he could use before straining his jaw with a forty-five minute blow job.
And the fact that he wasn’t getting consistently fucked through the mattress was starting to effect his work.
Cobb called Nash into his office on a Thursday and handed him a piece of paper. “Tell me what this is, Nash.”
“Interoffice memo?” He shrugged. “The coffeepot’s busted, I thought people should know.”
Cobb folded his hands together on the desk. “Read the last line for me, will you?”
“ ‘Thanks for your patience and understanding and if you have any idea as to who pissed in Cobb’s cornflakes this morning, let me—’” Nash stopped abruptly and read it over again to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “Did I really write that?”
“Yeah, asshole, you did.” Cobb leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “What the hell is the matter with you? You know this relationship is predicated on people not knowing, right? Because it could get us both fired if HR found out.”
The matter with him, seriously? That was it. He’d been a nice guy and Cobb was just being a dick, now, and not at all in the way he wanted.
“You wanna know? Listen up, then, ‘cause I’m about to tell you. Every time we try to fuck, you’ve got some new excuse. I mean, whatever, man,” Nash shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “If you’re not into it, fine, but at least have the balls to tell me. I got better things to do than deal with your straight panic or whatever the fuck this is.”
Cobb gaped at him, clearly surprised. Or maybe just confused. Nash was panting a little—he hadn’t really stopped to breathe and most of it had come out at a shout. Still, he stood his ground and gave Cobb his best expectant stare.
Cobb blinked. “What?”
“Say something, you—”
“I’ve got ED,” Cobb blurted out. He immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, like it would erase what had already been said. He mumbled something else Nash didn’t catch.
“Well, that… that explains a lot, actually. But you should’ve just said something.”
Cobb was aimlessly shuffling papers around on his desk, gaze very pointedly directed elsewhere. “It’s embarrassing. And I didn’t think you’d want to, if you knew.”
“Instead you just let me deal with the effects without any explanation. Gotcha. That makes sense, Cobb. Way to go.” Nash sighed. “You really thought I’d toss you for that?”
Cobb’s squint told him everything he needed to know and Nash did his best not to roll his eyes out of his skull. Why the fuck did guys have to be so stupid about this stuff? It happened, you dealt with it, and you moved on. If the sensitive types didn’t bother him so much when it came to sex, Nash would have considered giving up his mostly-assholes-only policy on dating.
“You’re right,” Cobb said finally. “I should have been upfront with you.”
“Damn straight you should’ve.”
“Are we still on for tomorrow night, my place?”
“Sure.” He paused. “But buy a new fucking coffee pot before you have a full-scale riot on your hands. That shit’s pissing everyone off.”
“Well, this is fucking awkward,” Nash said, around the second time Cobb had tried to offer him something he was allergic to. They were side by side on the leather sofa. Picturesque, wasn’t it? “I feel fifteen all over again.”
“I hope you weren’t sleeping with your boss at fifteen.”
“Just one of the many perks to working in the old man’s garage.”
Cobb laughed, finally. “You’re fucked up in the head, Nash.”
“I’m just doing what I can to get you to relax. You’re really, really tense tonight. To be honest, it’s kind of freaking me out.” Nash tugged Cobb up from the couch by his hand. “Come on, I’ll give you a massage. Loosen you up.”
They ended up on the bed naked, Cobb leaning back between his legs while Nash rubbed the knots out of his neck and shoulders. Guy needed to fire his secretary and get a chiropractor on staff, stat. Nash kissed his neck.
“Why don’t you try jerking off for me?” He passed Cobb the bottle of oil. “Don’t worry about coming or anything, just let’s try it.”
If Cobb thought it was a dumb idea, he didn’t say anything. Nash went back to rubbing his muscles, chin propped on Cobb’s shoulder so he could sneak the occasional peek.
“That feel good?”
“Don’t nag me. You know it does.”
Nash laughed. “Why you gotta be so difficult? Cut me some slack, I’m trying to talk dirty to you here. Jesus. Just go with it, why don’t you?” Cobb grumbled, but his hand started up again. “Okay, asshole, I’ll ask you one more time. Does it feel good?”
“Really good,” Cobb answered after a beat. His dick was starting to swell, thick and flushed. Nash smiled to himself.
“Good. That’s great, baby. Thumb over the head, I know how you like that.”
And if it brought him a little glimmer of satisfaction that he finally got to be the one giving orders? Well, there was nothing wrong with that. Sex was all about finding the right power balance. Not that he was exactly averse to letting Cobb lord it over him most of the time. There was a time and a place for that—after everyone else in the office had left and it was just the two of them. Getting fucked in Cobb’s cushy office chair had been his favorite Wednesday.
Nash brought a hand around to stroke over Cobb’s stomach, feeling the muscles flex and relax in rhythm under his fingers as his eyes drank in the sight of Cobb dragging his thumb through the slick fluid leaking from the head of his cock. It was getting him hot, too, and he couldn’t keep from rubbing off a little onto Cobb’s back. Just enough to relieve the pressure for now.
His fingers brushed through the wiry curls around the base of Cobb’s cock, red and fat with arousal, fingertips skirting around it. Nash liked the way Cobb jumped at it, mouth open in a moan. Nash loved that sound, loved men who made noise when they sucked and fucked and fooled around. Nothing turned him off quicker than bringing a guy home only to find out he was going to bite everything back, muffle it into his pillow, or worse—act like he wasn’t into it because he thought it made him more of a man.
Fuck, but he hated guys like that. But Cobb, Cobb wasn’t like that at all. He was jerking himself off frantically now, moving and sagging back into Nash’s hold, hips moving toward his slippery fist as he moaned and cried out.
Nash couldn’t wait any longer. “Stop that now. You gotta fuck me, baby. Come on, I need you in me.”
He moved back on the bed and settled on his back. Cobb was on him in an instant, pressing inside him with a harsh groan. He rucked one of Nash’s legs up over his shoulder and bent down to kiss him. They’d forgotten the condom, Nash realized, but he wasn’t about to complain, especially not when he was finally getting to scratch the most maddening itch. He bucked his hips up and squeezed around Cobb, who groaned and stilled.
“Fuck,” he panted, “you’re going to make me come.”
“That’s the plan,” Nash agreed. He did it again and flashed a lazy grin when Cobb’s fingers squeezed hard on his hips. He pushed up for more and moaned, hazy with the feelgood of it all. He kissed Cobb, licking at his mouth and murmuring, “Come on, baby. Come for me. Fill me up. Cobb, come on, come on.”
Nash felt him shudder and still and then Cobb was slumping bonelessly on top of him, hips still rocking intermittently before he slipped out entirely and flopped next to him.
“That was fucking incredible.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but we’re not done yet.” He hadn’t come, for one, and the night was still young. Nash gave him a smack and let his thighs fall apart. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to clean up the messes you make?”
Cobb smiled. “Apparently I never learned.”
“Yeah, well, there’s no time like the present. Start licking, dickhead.”