Work Text:
Healy walking in on him wasn’t planned- not that day at least- and it was at probably the worst time he could’ve chosen. March had already been three fingers deep in his ass, moaning in the sheets and bucking into his hand. And then Healy ruined it.
They were supposed to be leaving to track down a possible witness. Healy had told him they needed to leave on time because they only knew one place he’d be today at a specific time. He hadn’t stayed the night and Holly had made March drive her to school early, so there was a short period where March was alone.
He’d decided he could get off before Healy arrived.
Evidently, he was wrong.
“The fuck are you doing?”
March screeched, falling off his bed in a heap of limbs and sweat, somehow avoiding injury in the process. He glared at Healy as the orgasm he’d been working towards tumbled away from him. “What the hell does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re jerkin’ off when I specifically told you to be ready.” Healy growled.
March threw his hands up. He wasn’t as embarrassed as he probably should be, but it’s not like Healy hadn’t seen all this before. “Exactly. That was me trying to get ready.”
The older man scoffed, shaking his head and glaring down at March. “You’re a real piece of work. Get your pants on, we’re gonna miss him.”
“At least let me finish.” March made a shoo-ing motion. “Now either help me out or leave.”
“No, put your damn pants on before I drag you out of here without them.” Healy looked at him, disbelieving and angry. He didn’t even leave the room, instead deciding to stand over March with his arms crossed as he watched him get ready to leave, making warning noises if March so much as hesitated. When asked why he simply responded that March clearly couldn't be trusted.
It was offensive. March was a grown man; if he wanted to jerk off in his own bed then he damn well would. And he told Healy as much, multiple times, purposefully ignoring the tension in Healy’s shoulders. He was going to get off one way or another and from his experience, that tension meant one of two things: Healy would be annoyed enough that he dropped March off and fuck off for the night to his apartment, or- and this is what March was really gunning for- he would be so worked up that he fucked March rough and hard into the mattress, leaving him sore for days. So he sprinkled in a few salacious comments here and there, whining in a way he knew turned Healy on. It seemed to be working, if the heated looks Healy was giving him were worth anything (March ignored that it could also be Healy fighting the urge to break his nose). They did end up missing the guy, and had to spend the rest of the day tracking him through the city. It was a fruitless search and it only served to make Healy more irritated. When they called it a day and got back to the rental, Healy got out of the car with him. March’s mouth started watering.
“You’re coming in?” March feigned indifference, even as he felt the stirrings of arousal in his gut.
Healy grunted an affirmative and his hand clamped down on the back of March’s neck, practically shoving him inside and towards the bedroom. He pushed March hard into the room, making him stumble and have to bite back a small moan. The click of the door behind him sent blood rushing south and he turned with a smirk, a quip already on the tip of his tongue. Unfortunately, he’d have to save it for another day because Healy was on him in seconds, shoving his tongue down March’s throat and pushing them back until March hit the bed. The top layer of his clothing was shucked off as he was shoved and pulled into whatever position Healy wanted.
He ended up flat on his back, his wrists being held above his head and Healy bit mercilessly at his neck. March was moaning, he could feel Healy was just as affected as him and the thick thigh between his legs was proving to be the perfect place for him to rut his clothed cock. March was so lost in it that he didn’t even realize Healy had gathered his wrists and handcuffed him to the headboard until he felt the metal biting into the sensitive skin. March froze.
“What’s the matter, March?” A mean laugh filled his ear and March felt the hot breath against his neck.
“Healy- Jack- what are you doing?” The laugh that spilled from him was more a nervous chitter than anything and it only served to make Healy laugh harder.
The bigger man sat back, raising an eyebrow at March as he tugged against the restraints. “Well, you wanted to get off so bad, I thought I’d give you the chance.”
“I thought we were already doing that. What’s with the handcuffs?”
“You’ll see.” Healy slammed their lips together, nipping at March’s bottom lip, and shoved his thigh between his legs.
March couldn’t help but grind against it, whimpering and pulling at the handcuffs. Just as he started getting close, Healy pulled away completely, leaving March breathless and thrusting into the air. March whined, looking at Healy with betrayal in his eyes. “Healy, c’mon, I was close.”
“Oh were you? I couldn’t tell.” Healy gave him a blank stare, waiting a minute before shoving his leg back. “Go on.”
He kept doing that until March was a crying, whimpering mess, making him edge himself. Guiding his hips when March stopped in protest. After what felt like hours, he finally let March cum. He was shaking, over sensitive, his voice wrecked from crying out.
Healy leaned in close, waves of pleasure still wracking March’s body. “Next time, you won’t cum at all.”
