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It really shouldn't surprise Damon, knowing him, but it does. He had always assumed that sex was a kind of psychological oasis where you could unleash your alter ego, the person you weren't forced to be when others were looking. Especially when sex was with your best friend.
That's what it has always been. Damon was allowed to give up all control and let himself be manhandled and overpowered by Graham. Graham, on the other hand, allowed himself a little bit of bossing around and became all hard edges and strict tone, enjoying the way Damon would listen to nothing but his commands and would always, always comply.
Damon guesses that's why it surprises him when Graham suggests it. His voice had been small, higher than usual, his face so red that Damon had worried he was feeling ill. Graham hadn't dared to look him in the eye as he had mumbled the words, and Damon, much to his own distress, had had to ask him to repeat them.
“I can’t hear you, Gra.” He had explained, still straddling his hips.
They had been discussing conceptual ideas for the new album in Damon’s flat, a few beers in their system already. They were both in a good mood, which was rare these days. One witty remark had led to Graham kicking Damon in the head, and Damon, of course, hadn't resisted the urge to get even at him. One thing had led to the other, and soon enough they were both rolling all over the ground in a childish play fight, one on top of the other, wrestling and kicking and struggling to win.
Damon had finally settled on top of Graham, pinning both his wrists to the floor, and that was when he had felt how hard his friend was. Damon hadn't been able to resist the urge to comment on it.
Graham had looked at him like he wanted to murder him, but had eventually repeated the words, confessed his little fantasy to Damon. And honestly, who could blame Damon for his surprise? Graham had never asked for anything remotely similar when it came to sex. He was ashamed of being anything other than the dominant one, the active one, so Damon thinks that he is allowed to be startled by his request.
Not that it stops him from feeling dizzy from how turned on he is right now.
Damon has to admit that he has fantasised about this before. Graham isn't shy with him, not really, but Damon guiltily enjoys watching him stumble over his words or picking on his fingers with his mouth when they're in an interview, or when he has fans gushing over him in a way that makes him feel anxious. Flashing images of him fucking his best friend in quick, hard thrusts against a wall in a quick, desperate shag cross his mind in those moments more than he’s willing to admit, but this, what Graham has in mind, how he is now, is much better than his mind could've ever imagined for him.
Damon shifts where he’s seated in the foot of his own bed, his socked feet digging in the carpet for some sense of balance. His mouth is dry with how turned on he is, and he feels physically unable to tear his eyes off his best friend as he looks down on him.
Graham is kneeling on the carpet, right in front of Damon, still fully clothed. Glasses on, Damon had insisted on that. He’s resting his bum on the heels of his feet, both hands on his lap, where he can't stop fidgeting with his fingers, as he always does when he’s feeling self-conscious. His shoulders are hunched over himself in an attempt to make himself smaller, his chin slightly down as he looks at Damon through his lashes and over his glasses, eyes wide open in embarrassment. He’s still flushed bright red, and his hair is disheveled from their early fight.
Right there under Damon, looking perpetually embarrassed and eyes filled with need, he’s the very image of submission.
“Is this how you pictured it?” Damon asks him, his voice low and a notch deeper than usual, a voice that he only uses when everything’s intimate enough that he doesn't need to be his loud self.
Graham whines, blushing a shade darker, and shuffles nervously on his knees.
“Damon…” he pleads. He doesn't want to say it, it's obvious. But that's why they're here, and Damon is determined.
“Say it.” His tone is strict, and he’s afraid of sounding angry, because he’s never been like this during sex, much less with Graham, so he’s just doing what feels right and hoping that it's okay.
Graham purses his lips, holding Damon’s gaze in silent imploration, but when he sees that Damon isn't going to back off, he finally admits, eyes still on him:
“Yeah.”
His voice is small, and Damon is grateful when he looks away because he has the opportunity to take a deep breath, audibly shuddering. This is already way more intense than what he had expected, and they haven't done anything. Damon feels hot all over.
“Come here,” he orders, opening his legs on the bed. “I want you closer.”
Graham gulps, and it takes him a second to move, still unsure in this new position and testing the waters of his comfort, but eventually he gets on his hands and knees and crawls over Damon until he’s right between his legs, face inches away from Damon’s crotch.
Graham sits back down on his knees, getting comfortable there. He has to crook his neck to look at Damon now , but he does so nevertheless, eyes full of submission, lips parting as his tongue darts out sinfully. Damon feels dizzy.
He lifts one hand off the bed and pets Graham’s hair softly. Graham closes his eyes and purrs, head chasing the touch. Damon looks at him, hypnotized, and doesn't even register when he speaks.
“Such a good puppy.” At that, Graham opens his eyes instantly, searching Damon’s face. Damon is afraid that he’s said something wrong, but this is what Graham has asked of him. When Graham sees nothing but lust in Damon’s eyes, he visibly relaxes, letting himself be pet, a slight haze in his eyes. “You’re going to listen to me, right?”
Graham nods against his head, nervously biting his lips and fluttering his lashes at him. He’s going to be the death of him.
“Good,” he praises, watching as the blush spreads down Graham’s neck. “How about you take my pants off? Let’s begin with something easy for you.”
Graham nods again, more eagerly this time, as his eyes go down to Damon’s belt immediately.
“Okay,” he mumbles shyly. Damon knows that part of him is playing a part, but he also knows his best friend well enough to know that he’s probably feeling incredibly self-conscious and embarrassed for what they’re doing. It only makes Damon want to give it to him even more.
Graham’s nimble fingers make quick work of Damon’s belt, and it's a matter of seconds before he’s got his jeans unbuttoned and with the fly down. Graham licks his lips as Damon lifts his hips off the bed to help him get rid of the pants, dutifully getting them down his knees and getting them off one leg and then the other. He doesn't miss the opportunity to run his hands up Damon’s thigh, feeling the skin there and stopping right where the boxes covered Damon’s upper thigh. Graham lifts his eyes, a question on them.
Damon tuts his tongue, shaking his head.
“Now, that's not what I’ve asked you to do, is it?” Graham just looks at him, biting his lips and not moving his hands as he plays with the hem of Damon’s boxers. “You’ll get my cock when I give it to you. Don’t start getting greedy now.”
Graham whines high in his throat, but when Damon gives him a strict look, he quickly takes his hands off him and returns them to his lap. Damon is about to praise him again, getting the hang of it, when he sees Graham palming himself through his jeans, the heel of his hand pressing down his dick in a way that makes his eyes flutter close for an instant.
“Stop that.” He sharply admonishes. Graham quickly takes his hands off himself, clasping his hands together in an attempt to remain still. It's too late now, and Damon can actually feel himself getting bothered. “Not so good, after all. What am I going to do with you, if you don't know how to behave?”
Graham inhales sharply and shakes his head desperately, brows furrowed as he pouts.
“No, I’m sorry, I-”
“I don’t care. You’ve promised you were going to be good. To behave for me, yeah? Why are you being bad?”
Graham looks at him helplessly, shifting in his place between Damon’s legs. Damon can see the struggle in his eyes as he looks down on him, can see how hard he is from the tent in his jeans, the way he’s flushed, and his eyes shine.
Graham turns his head to rub his face against Damon’s bare thigh, closing his eyes as he nuzzles his nose on the skin there. Damon feels drunk on power as he rests a possessive hand on top of his hair.
“I… I’ll try, I’m sorry, Day-”
But his words are cut off by a high whine when Damon closes his fist on his hair and tugs, forcing Graham to lift his head off Damon’s leg and follow Damon’s tug until his neck is straining and he’s looking directly into Damon's eyes, mouth open in pain.
“I think you oughta try harder. I have to do something about it, don’t you think? I can't have a bad puppy.”
At that, Graham closes his mouth, though his eyes are still wide open and begging Damon for mercy. Damon holds his gaze a second longer, making sure his words are clear and have sunk down into Graham’s brain, and finally lets his hair go.
Graham deflates, head falling down as he pants in effort, trying to recover. Damon gives him a couple of seconds before he gets his boxers down his legs and throws them off the other side of the room.
Damon being naked gets Graham’s attention again. He lifts his head just enough to look at him through his glasses when Damon takes himself in his hand and begins jerking off lazily.
He’s already hard, harder than he usually is without someone touching him, and he wants to close his eyes in pleasure as a groan of relief leaves his throat, but he doesn't dare to miss one second of the way Graham’s hungry stare is following his every movement as he shamelessly licks his lips.
“You’re so needy.” Damon comments matter-of-factly, only to get a reaction from Graham, who squirms in his place and moans at Damon’s comment. Graham’s so responsive like this, it’s messing a bit with Damon’s head, who only wants to take more and more. “Open your mouth.”
Graham complies immediately, letting his jaw fall slack, and his tongue dart out, waiting there for Damon to do as he wants, looking way too pleased with himself. Damon returns the hand that was on Graham’s hair there, not missing the way he instinctively flinches, but this time he doesn't pull; he simply guides Graham to his cock, not being able to hold down the moan that escapes his mouth when he feels Graham dutifully engulfing him with his mouth.
“There you go,” Damon exhales, closing his eyes as he slowly guides Graham’s head over his cock, not really forcing any strength on him but simply directing his movements.
Damon forgets how good Graham is with his mouth because he’s usually the one on his knees, but he could swear he’s close already, with the way Graham swirled his tongue around the head of his cock before getting him halfway down his mouth, cheeks hollowing around him.
Damon builds a slow rhythm, still experimenting with his dominance, his hand never leaving Graham's hair. Graham's eyes are closed behind his glasses, which are somehow still perfectly positioned on the bridge of his nose, and he looks focused in his movements as he plants his hands on Damon’s thighs to find a balance, but lets Damon do all the work.
“Fuck, you’re so good at that,” Damon moans, feeling hot all over as waves of pleasure wash over him every time Graham goes down on him and gets a little bit more of his cock inside. “Making it up to me so good.”
That makes Graham moan, the vibration making Damon twitch inside his mouth. Graham gets excited and tries to go faster, hollowing his cheeks harder and letting Damon’s cock hit the back of his throat until he’s spluttering around him.
“Easy there,” Damon warns him, tone a bit gentler. “We don't want you to get hurt.”
But Graham doesn't stop, doesn't get off when Damon hits the back of his throat again, and he has to cough, tears swelling in his eyes. What's more, he speeds up, letting some spit trickle down his chin as he continues to abuse his own mouth, eyes close tightly, and brows furrowed in concentration. It takes Damon a couple of seconds to understand it, and when he does, he has to close his eyes in order not to come on the spot.
“Oh. You want it to hurt, don’t you?” Graham doesn't answer, but opens his eyes in embarrassment and whimpers low in his throat, not stopping his movements. It's all the answer Damon needs. “You’re filthy, Gra.”
Damon considers it for a second, but when he sees the way Graham is rutting against the heel of his hand pathetically, there on the floor with his jeans still on, he closes his hand on Graham's hair again, tugging harshly and forcing him to stop his movements,only to lift his hips off the bed and into Graham’s mouth.
He does it one time only, experimentally, not really knowing if it’s what Graham wants from him, but the effect is immediate. Graham moans high in his throat, a noise that Damon has never heard out of him, and locks eyes with Damon as he lets his jaw hang completely slack. His eyes are glazed over in pure submission and look at Damon with desperation and need, silently begging him as the hand down his pants doesn't stop for a second.
And something snaps inside of Damon, something small and hidden that even he didn't know he had in him. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to completely take over Graham, to ravish him and make him beg and scream in pleasure, make him cry and have him completely at his mercy.
Without breaking eye contact, Damon lifts his hips off the bed again, this time more sure of himself, and slides into Graham's mouth until his cock hits the back of his throat. He begins fucking Graham’s mouth like that, in hard and deep thrusts that keep him gagging as Damon holds his head in place. He watches as Graham is focused on relaxing his throat so Damon can enter it as tears swell in his eyes until they eventually start rolling down his face, which by now is a wet mess, between the spit and now that.
“Open your jeans. But don't take your boxers off.” Damon commands, not really caring anymore how harsh he sounds, or how desperate the strain in his voice makes him. He’s already close to his orgasm, and by the way Graham’s furious blush extends all the way down his neck, and under his shirt, and the little sounds he seems unable to stop making, Damon guesses he isn't that far off either.
Graham listens immediately, unbuttoning his jeans and wiggling his hips as best he can so he can get them down his hips just enough that he can freely rub his cock against his palm, only the thin, wet-by-now fabric of his boxers in between.
Graham becomes louder, his brows furrowing as Damon speeds up his thrusts, downright fucking his throat as he holds Graham’s head right where he wants it. His eyes lower to watch Graham touch himself over his boxers, hips lifting up the floor in embarrassingly desperate little thrusts that Damon finds unbearably hot.
“That's right, baby. Get yourself off like that, rutting against your hand.” He doesn't even register his words as he feels himself get closer to his orgasm, becoming a bit of a babbling mess, voice still somehow dripping with control. “You think you can come like that? Be a good pup and come in your boxers for me?”
Graham tries to nod, his eyes wide open in desperation as his hand speeds up and he moans around Damon’s cock. Damon can't stop talking.
“Yeah? You close?” Graham just looks at him, but he can't stop whining now, little high mewls that drive Damon right to the edge. “Gonna make a mess out of yourself? Get all dirty for me, love?”
It's these final words that are too much for Graham, and he comes as he desperately rubs the heel of his palm against his cock as spurts of cum stain the fabric of his boxers.
Damon holds his head, stopping his movements until he’s only lazily rocking his hips back and forth, letting Graham ride his orgasm as his eyes roll back and his whole face relaxes. Damon watches him in awe, his own orgasm impending at the beautiful sight that Graham is in front of him as he feels him shiver and tremble between his legs, his body spasming with how hard he’s coming.
With one final roll of his hips, Graham’s whole body deflates, and Damon swears he’s only upright still by the tight grip he still has on his hair. Graham opens his eyes, but he seems a bit out of it, probably still in the haze of his orgasm.
Damon is about to pull off and finish himself off with a quick walk -it would only take a couple of seconds of him just looking at Graham- when Graham begins working his tongue against Damon's shaft, slow but determined.
Damon moans in surprise, his hips involuntarily lifting off the bed, chasing the warm wetness of Graham's mouth. Graham lets him, repositioning his glasses as he can and looking at Damon patiently, so obedient.
“Fuck, Gra, I’m gonna come.” He doesn't have it in him to play any sort of role anymore, no matter how much he’s enjoyed it, simply chasing his orgasm as he fucks his best friend’s mouth is fast and shallow thrusts. “So good…”
Damon closes his eyes when he comes, unable to bear the overwhelming pleasure he feels as he pushes Graham’s head all the way down his cock and comes down his throat. The hand on his head tightens impossibly so, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he registers Graham’s whimper, but all he’s able to actually be aware of is Graham lapping at him as best as he can as he lets Damon come on his mouth.
Damon finally lets go of Graham, completely spent, and Graham lets his cock drop out of his mouth, immediately collapsing his head against Damon’s thigh. He feels his friend’s breath tickling the sensitive skin there, but is too endeared by him and too spent to do anything other than try to control his own breathing.
When he finally opens his eyes, Damon finds Graham bent over himself and looking exhausted, his chest heaving with how hard he's breathing, and his mouth open against Damon’s leg. His face is a mess, cheeks still red and wet with tears, mouth and chin shiny with tears. Damon feels the sudden urge to coddle him, to get him in his arms and whisper sweet nothings into his ear until both of them fall asleep. Which huh. It's definitely a new feeling towards Graham.
Before he can give it much thought, Damon bends over and brings his hand to caress Graham’s hair fringe that's sticking to his sweaty forehead.
“Hey,” he tries, his voice coarse but soft. Graham only acknowledges it by grunting. Damon smiles at that. “Come here, c'mon. You’re going to be sore tomorrow.”
When Graham doesn't make any attempt to move, Damon sighs, amused, and resorts to getting both his hands under Graham’s armpits and helping him to get up himself. Graham, finally, makes the effort and puts his legs to work, but just enough so he gets off the floor and collapses on top of Damon, making them both fall against the bed.
“Graham, come on,” Damon complains, though his tone is light as he manages to roll Graham off himself enough to be able to breathe, but still having most of his friend on top of him, Graham’s face nuzzled against Damon’s neck. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Graham sighs. He drapes a hand over Damon’s stomach, getting it underneath his shirt and caressing the skin of his belly.
“Was that…” Damon tries, but feels himself blush. “Was that what you had in mind?”
Damon feels Graham’s body stiffen next to him, his fingers pausing for a moment before resuming his caresses. Damon brings one of his hands to Graham’s waist and squeezes reassuringly.
“Yeah… did you, erm, like it?”
“Yes, I did.” Damon answers quickly. “I liked it quite a lot, actually.” He admits also to himself. He’s grateful that Graham is hiding his blushing face against his neck, cause that means that he’s not going to see Damon blushing as well.
“Thank you,” Graham says after a few moments of silence.
“It's nothing, Gra. Told you I liked it, too.”
Graham nods against him and sighs, his body relaxing once more.
“I’m so tired…”
“Same. You’re sticky, though.” Damon brings his hand to the hem of Graham’s boxers, his jeans still mid-thigh, to prove his point.
“And whose fault is that?” Graham complains, but it's only half-heartedly.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn't know I was the one coming in your boxers.”
“No, you were the one coming down my throat. Pretty clean, that.”
Damon chuckles.
“Shut up, you love it.”
“You have no proof of that.” Graham accuses him, lips moving against Damon’s neck when he talks.
“You’ll find that I actually do.” And with that, he brings his hand to the front of Graham's boxes, palming the sticky fabric there. Graham winces, still sensitive.
“You’re gross,” Graham complains, swatting his hand away and scrunching up his nose.
“You’re the one who wants to sleep with his cum-filled boxers on.”
“Yeah, well. I’m tired.” Graham deadpans.
Damon is about to say something, but figures the battle is lost already as Graham repositions himself, getting his glasses off and leaving them on the bed beside him, and throwing a leg over Damon. Damon sighs, finally giving up, and squeezes Graham against him.
“I’ll let you be right this one time.” He complies before closing his eyes, being aware of the small smile that doesn't leave his mouth until he finally drifts off to sleep, holding Graham next to him.