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He used to struggle, a lot more, in the beginning. Back when he was, maybe not significantly younger , but more naive, thought if he just had the willpower, he could make it work for him. 

Used to scratch and elbow, do everything he could to avoid ending up on his back. He's strong, but he's no trained CIA officer, so this time, and every time before that, Teddy gets the condom, and Saint gets to lie there and take it. 

It's good, it's always good. Saint himself has to know how he looks, he's. Pretty. For lack of a better word. If not cute. Couldn't really say that about him anymore. The sweat on his back looks artistic on his skin, compared to on Teddy. 

Made him look damp, like a wet dog, J- his ex-wife used to say. When Saint heaved, and he got to watch it roll down his neck, fighting the temptation to lick it off was a battle in and of itself, and victory just made the sex more sweet. 

Never kissed him, never bit him, never did anything that would have freaked him. He remembers the first time his lips went near his neck, Franklin jumped back like a spooked animal, pulled his pants back up. 

"I-I don't know what you think this is, Reed ." He spat the name like it was nasty.  "Fuck! Fuck-Shit!" Damn near fled. 

Now he holds back, which is fine. It's great. Sweat rolls down his face, and with one hand he sweeps the damp hair from his forehead, the other he plants square between Saint's shoulder-bladed holding him firm as he fucks into him, gets a gratifying huff in return. 

 

Another thing- the kid is quiet. Can't get more than a low groan out of him, and that's if he's really trying to make it hurt. 

Not that- he likes it, obviously he likes it. Jesus, he's not raping him. He'd stop if Franklin didn't want to. He'd just have to say no, once, and he'd never do it again, obviously. 

Franklin reaches out to grab the arm of the sofa to steady himself, and he can hear his breathing getting heavier. 

"You like that? Huh?" Teddy struggles to get out, bending over him, going harder. 

"Gonna come?"

He does, sometimes. At least most of the times that Teddy reaches down to touch him, since the kid won't do it himself. Franklin doesn't say anything, never does, choosing to focus on himself but Teddy keeps talking because it gets him off. 

"Wanna come? Fuck your hand, Saint. Fuck your hand like I'm fucking you. Come on."

And as always Franklin doesn't move a muscle. 

"Do it, Saint."

The hand on Franklin's back moves up to his neck, and just that-, he squeezes slightly and jesus, he might come, right now. 

He pulls out, pushes him harsh, twice on the shoulder. 

"Turn over."

Franklin makes a noise of surprise and does as he's told, watching him steadily. He's only half hard. 

See, this is why he doesn't do it like this. He doesn't know why Franklin feels the need to stare. He used to find it hot, actually, wanted to watch Franklin watch him with his cock in his mouth, but he point blank refused to blow him then or ever, and the staring started to feel weird. Deflate his boners. 

"What you want?" He says, cool as you like, even though the motherfucker's out of breath. 

Teddy grabs him by under the knees, parts his legs like a whore's and penetrates him again, watches his breathing stop for a second, then resume. 

"I want you to touch yourself, Saint," he pants. "Now. I want you to make yourself come while I'm fucking you."

His chest stutters as he gets to see Franklin's shoulder move to obey him, and he's barely got his hand on his cock when Teddy feels himself working past the point he was at just a minute ago. 

"Faster- oh fuck, match my pace, Saint. Faster, ugh- come, Saint, I want you to come-"

He keeps fucking him, even as he comes in him,  (into the condom), as he begins to soften, but Franklin doesn't, even though he's fully hard now, so quickly, quickly, he ties off the condom on his cock and bends his head down, takes him into his mouth without bothering to warn him. 

He can't get him all the way down, so he grabs Saint's wrist, makes the hand stay, do the rest of the work for him.

      A minute later, Franklin tries to pull his head off of him, and for that, he swallows it all. It's his first time doing that ever, for anyone, but he doesn't let it show, instead choosing to crawl up his body, fists sinking slightly into the material on either side of Franklin's head as he stares down. 

He wants to kiss him, make him taste his own come in his mouth. That would probably be too far. And no matter… no matter what type of person he-he is, he cares about things like that. 

"Good?"

Franklin closes his eyes momentarily. 

"Sure, man. Yeah." A second passes, and he begins to shimmy out from under him, reaching for his pants on the floor, and Teddy watches intently, watches him step into the legs of both his boxers and jeans, pull them over his hips and pull his colour block sweater over his head. Watches him tuck it into the pants and thread the belt through the loops,  then scan the room for his sneakers. 

There's a yawning gap in Teddy's belly. He wants already wants to do it again, fuck him again, until it not only feels good, but feels, feels right. Perfect. Sex with Franklin is always perfect, until he does it. Next time, next time. 

Watches Franklin pat his pocket for his keys, then slip on the second shoe he finds by a crate.

"Gonna go now, Reed. Moms wanting me home for dinner, running late, you know how it is." 

At that, Teddy's eyes widen and he starts to mutely panic, as always, and it's a very, very low sort of hum in the back of his mind that warns him that he's an old man whose just had sex with a twenty one year old, a disadvantaged twenty one year old no less, that he's a CIA officer selling cocaine by the kilo to a disadvantaged twenty one year old, who's about to go have dinner with his mom, and he's just had sex with him. He's had sex with a twenty one year old, and he's sending him home to dinner with his mom with cocaine in his car.

He wants to grab him by the shoulders and beg him to tell him with his own words that he really does want it, that he likes it, that he enjoys it, that Teddy's not a-a-

"10 keys, same time next week?"

"Same time, next week."