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Tim/Tyra, #12 
19th-Aug-2008 12:58 am
S Doll eye.
Title: With Tired Eyes, Tired Minds, Tired Souls, We Slept.
Character(s) or Pairing: Tim/Tyra
Prompt: #12, Leather
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Tyra ties Tim up. They have sex.
Disclaimer: FNL belongs to Peter Berg and NBC. I'm just playing with their people, because lo, they are pretty and angst-ridden.
A/N: Takes place in the summer before the first season. A warning--if you have a dub-con squick, you might want to stay away. This is also my first attempt at het. It was a lot of fun to write, I hope you enjoy reading it! The title is taken from a song of the same name by Explosions in the Sky.


It arrives in a plain cardboard box on July 13th. It’s small enough to fit in the mailbox and then into Tyra's purse, where it bumps against her hip with every step. Tim blushes and goes silent and nods. Still, they have to wait until the 18th when Billy finally leaves for a three-day weekend golfing in Woodway and they get the house to themselves. They've done a lot of fucking with Billy one door down but Tim wanted privacy for this and she agreed.

They almost do it in Billy's room on the bed that used to belong to their parents and still smells like urine and Southern Comfort with metal posts on each corner, but Tyra says no to that. Tim rustles up some longer pieces of rope and ties some shoelaces together and by the time she's wrapped them around his wrists and ankles, and then around the four feet of the bed, he can barely move. She almost secretly hopes that he'll struggle. That he'll pull against the bonds so hard that he'll carry bruises into the locker room, wear her marks under his uniform on Friday night.

His eyes followed her as she tied him up but he's kept silent. She straddles his chest and calls him a good boy. His eyes get comically wide and almost pathetically hopeful and she has to remind herself that at six-foot-plus of pure muscle her fullback is hardly broken.

She picks up the box and opens it, feeling Tim’s ribs shake between her knees. The ball gag looks cruel. In her hands it seems too big and black and hard--harder than she thought it'd be--and the straps are thick and wide. She weighs it in her hand, fondles the leather, dangles it in front of Tim’s eyes. He can say no until she puts it on, and then he won’t be able to speak at all.

He swallows and nods before she can even ask him if he's ready. His eyes are still wide and he’s looking at her the way he sometimes does in the mornings, full of wonder, like Tyra Collette is something wonderful. She thinks this is probably how Tim looks at Jason, his hero worship and trust and loyalty all mixed up in Tim’s head. It’s close enough to love, she thinks, for now.

She fits the ball between his lips and her cunt clenches tight when she sees him struggle to hold it and not gag, his lips strained white as she pushes it further in. She lifts his head to buckle the leather straps, and strokes a hand through his hair to make sure she didn't catch any of it. He closes his eyes and relaxes, the strain in his face fading.

She didn't think he'd look prettier all messed up, but he looks better clean and begging than he ever has on the football field. There's nothing he can do anymore. She waits until he opens his eyes and looks at her, wants to make sure he knows. Nothing he can do.

She moves down his body to straddle his hips and rides him as he begins to thrust against her, his cock naked against her underwear (the lace pair Mindy bought her when she was 14), and she feels strong. She pinches her nipples, runs her hands over her breasts, and moves slower. She wishes they had a mirror so she could see herself, Tyra Collette on a Wednesday evening, her chest thrust high and her mouth half open.
 
Such a good boy, she says. So desperate. You already want to come, don't you? He moans and a bit of drool escapes past the black rubber stretching out his lips. She bends forward and licks at his mouth, lapping up the foreign taste of rubber and sweat as he whimpers.

She smiles and shuffles back until she's in between his legs. If she knelt down, she could take his cock in her mouth--all the way down, because she's had a lot of practice, and Tim's cock--like it is now--hard and dripping and thick--is just so fucking pretty. She takes the head into her mouth and sucks and hears the first cry choking out of his mouth. His stomach writhes and she calls him a whore.

Look at you. Big Tim Riggins. I could take pictures of you. I bet Smash would pay a pretty penny to see you all tied up and ready to beg. You'd beg for me, wouldn't you? I wonder if he'd jack off. Looking your cock and your nipples--I wonder what Jason would think. Tim's eyes flash at her and she grins. He can't stop her talking now.

She calls him a bitch, her bitch, and slaps his cock. Hard. Back and forth, side to side, against his stomach and away so that it bounces back--by the time she moves to his balls he's trying to yell or scream or cry, but her hands are covered with pre-cum and his cock is hotter than it's ever been, a flushed red, she feels like she owns it. She doesn't stop.

If I were a guy, Tim, I'd fuck you. If I were Jason I'd fuck you. You'd like that, wouldn't you? If I had a cock and shoved it in you. You'd just take it, you'd open up real pretty for me, wouldn't you? She sees wet tracks on his face, tears and saliva, and she reaches up to push hard at the ball gag. Maybe next time I'll wear a strap-on. Your mouth looks like a picture, all stretched out--I'll fuck your mouth so hard you won't be able to breathe, baby. She slaps his cock one last time and licks the pre-cum off her hands.

His whole body's trying to get away from her. The skin around the rope and shoelaces is a sharp white color, the rest of his body red and wet. Tyra strips off her underwear and settles down on his cock ad slides back and forth, rubbing it against her clit. His cock is hot, hotter than it's ever felt before, and she's dripping all over him.

Fu--fuck. Tim. He turns his head away when his hips push up at her as hard as he can, and she moans. I'm gonna fuck you, Tim. Gonna take my time and ride real slow and if you come too soon I'll leave you here. Swear to god I'll suck you hard again and leave you crying for--he thrusts again--hours, oh god, Tim...

She lifts herself and moves until she's kneeling right above his cock, on hand holding him while she pinches her nipple with the other. Slowly, slow enough that her thighs burn and Tim's whimpering against the gag again, his fists clenching and unclenching, she lowers herself onto him. She feels every inch of him, burning hot, and she didn't work herself open and she's still tight around his thick cock. It's perfect.

Oh, god, Tim, you feel so good. So good for me. She rocks forward and nearly cries as his cock rubs in all the right places. She feels powerful, watching his nails cut into his palms as he tries not to come, the muscles in his stomach straining to push into her, hard, to take her. But she ignores him and keeps on moving slow, just like she likes it, rocking in circles.

Words spill out of her mouth, like they don't when Tim's on top or his hands are working inside of her. She call him a slut and pretty and a fag, says he should be grateful she's fucking him and calls him trash, says he's beautiful tied up. She rakes her fingernails down his chest three times and just keeps moving as slow as she can manage, his cock as far inside of her as it's ever been.

When they're both close to coming, she leans forward, pressing her breasts against his chest, forehead to forehead. Her fingers are clumsy at the clasp of the gag, and it takes her almost too long to undo it.

Wanna hear you, baby, wanna hear you when you come--

She kisses his neck, leaving the gag unbuckled but still in his mouth, and when he moves his head to push it out she bites hard and feels his cock jump inside of her, his cry almost too real after he'd been quiet for so long.

The words out of his mouth are almost too strained to understand, but she hears please and god and Tyra before she pinches his nipple and starts fucking herself on his cock, as fast as her legs will let her. Her juices have dripped all over them and her thighs smack against him with each thrust, wet and obscene. She rubs her clit roughly with one hand and picks up the gag with the other, shoving it back into his mouth.

One of his lips is bleeding when they're finally wrapped white around the rubber again, and then--waves. Waves of pleasure, shoving through her body, over and over and over. She thinks she can feel him come inside the condom, calls him pretty and a slut and hers and then cries while her cunt drives pleasure through her until her shoulders tense and her calves cramp and she can't see anything but red.

Her cunt aches. She comes back into her body slowly, first her cunt throbbing with each heartbeat and then, slowly, she opens her eyes. Tim? His eyes are closed, and they don't open when she lifts off his cock. She ties the condom and drops it in the trash beside the bed. There's semen on his cock and her cum around it.

He stays quiet, almost perfectly still, as she licks it off, salty and familiar. She massages his thighs as she sucks his cock, and holds on tight when he starts thrusting into her mouth. She bobs her head and keeps her lips loose, giving him the kind of messy blowjobs he likes best. Her jaw aches by the time he comes, and she thinks idly about spilling it back into his mouth when she looks up and realizes he hasn't spit out the gag.

She rubs his stomach as she climbs over him to get scissors, and carefully cuts off each of his bonds. The shoelaces around his ankles have left angry red lines. The ropes have rubbed raw circles around his wrists and she kisses each one as she carefully moves his arms to rest against his torso.

Finally, she moves to his mouth and takes out the gag. She picks up a tissue and cleans his face as best she can. When he moves his jaw a little she watches a bit of blood and saliva drip down his cheek. He grins crookedly at her and she doesn't wipe it away.

She feels shy, suddenly. Ashamed. Like she went overboard or enjoyed it too much or took it too far. Or not far enough? She covers her breasts with one arm and sits on the bed next to him.

You fucked me unconscious, he says slowly. That's a first. His voice is rough and uneven, and she remembers how loudly he was screaming. Next time, he says, it's my turn. She smiles and nods, then lies down beside him. His moves his arm slowly and she rests her head on it. You can explain to Coach why I'm not going to be coming to practice for about a month, though. I think I shot all my muscles out through my dick.

She rubs her fingers slowly against her clit and listens to him breathe. And next time that it's your turn, he says, let's try that thing with the fake dick. Her cunt clenches and she moans at how deep inside herself she aches.

Tim rolls over, slowly, and kisses her. His closed lips taste like rubber, and she thinks about fucking past them with ridges of black rubber cock, or dark purple, big enough to make him gag. Thanks, he says, minutes later, and if his mouth hadn't been right by her ear she wouldn't have heard him.

Soon he's asleep, his breath whispering against her neck, leaving it cold on every inhale and she wonders if she's just the poor man's version of penance. Of confession. She thinks about the things she'd scream if no one could hear her and about the raw skin around Tim's strong wrists and falls asleep.


I've been watching the show for a while now, but I'm fairly new to fandom, so please free to friend and say hello! Thanks for reading, any advice or feedback you have is welcome.
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