Approach

Part One of the Fall Series
by Tiriel
Rating: NC-17, m/m

Takes place mid-first season. Ever wonder why Dale is in such a good mood that certain morning at breakfast with Albert when he talks about the "Happy Generations" and learns of Earle's escape? Here's your answer. Mild spoilerish hints, but nothing explicit.

Disclaimer:The characters of this story don't belong to me...they came from the twisted minds of David Lynch and Mark Frost (and I mean that respectfully)-I'll put them back when I'm done. Please don't sue me, all I have are student loans...also, this is not beta'd, errors are entirely my fault.

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He asked me to give him a leg up--I agreed without thinking twice. I lifted him up, and realized two things that shocked me to the core. His groin was right there, next to my face. And I wanted nothing more than to turn my face, smell him, nuzzle him through his slacks, feel him harden, hear him gasp, see the look in his eyes as I took him into my mouth, taste his essence.

I don't think he noticed, but with him, it's hard to be sure. He notices so many things, makes deductive leaps of reasoning and observation that would put Sherlock Holmes to shame. The second his feet were back on the floor, he was off on one of those trips into wherever he gets his conclusions from. Tibet, maybe. I did my best to forget my arousal and keep up with his mental gymnastics. It had been years since I noticed a man in that way. I pushed my feelings aside, remembering the consequences of the last time.

I succeeded fairly well at the task of putting him out of my mind until the night he went to One-Eyed Jack's. First there was the way he looked in that tuxedo, then there was the shooting. We both could have died that night.

Even that didn't convince me to speak. It was when Josie left without a word for Seattle, when so many odd things had happened all at once. Perhaps I suspected, just a little, even then, what she was. But I didn't want to see her, really see her. I chose blindness with Josie, to the very end.

Josie left, and I was confused and alone and I had a moment of weakness. I really believed I was going there to talk about the case.

"Hello, Harry," he said when he opened the door, "it's you. For a moment I thought the giant had taken up knocking."

Those silly 1950s pajamas, buttoned up to the very top, that's what I blame it on.

"There was a giant here?" In sharp contrast to the rationality of my words, my hand had taken on a life of its own. I saw it reach out, stroke his cheek.

"Yes, Harry. But not for the same reason you are." He caught my hand in his and pulled me through the doorway. I pushed the door shut behind me and then I was pressed against it, his lips on mine. His hips ground against mine, the loose pajama bottoms allowing his erection room to move, allowing my hand room to find it, the smoothness of his hard flesh, the wet spot on the fabric against the back of my hand.

I found myself acting on the impulse I'd had a few days before. I turned him so that he was the one with his back against the door, remembering his injuries as my hands drifted over his bandaged ribs. I knelt and treasured the soft noise of pleasure he made when I nuzzled his hard cock through the fabric, breathing in the scent of him. I put a hand on each of his hips and marveled at his intake of breath when I yanked the pajama bottoms down to his ankles and took him fully into my mouth. I pulled my head back and looked up. His eyes were wide and dark, and he was looking down at me, his mouth open in a way that made me even harder.

I returned my attention to the bobbing, dripping erection that was in front of me. Licking and sucking my way along the underside of his cock, I ran my hands up and down his legs, then up over his ass. As I again took him completely into my mouth, I allowed a finger to drift casually between his cheeks, down, down. He twitched as my finger passed over his opening, continuing all the way down to the underside of his balls. He made a sound that was almost a purr, and I think he breathed my name as I picked up the pace with my mouth, dragging my finger back upwards. This time I didn't just pass over his opening, though. I pressed my finger into the tight heat of his body and was rewarded by the pulsing of the organ in my mouth. I swallowed every drop, and sucked gently on his cock as it softened.

I heard his ragged breathing above me, and after a moment, he placed his hands on my shoulders and pulled me up. He kissed me, and I knew he could taste himself in my mouth. His hand reached down to my belt. He skillfully unbuckled it and unfastened my pants, his lips never leaving mine. He ran a finger along the waistband of my underwear. His lips moved from my mouth to my jawline, then my neck.

"My ribs," he whispered in my ear. "I want you...but there is only so much pain that mind-body control techniques can suppress. Can I watch you?"

The sound of his voice when he said that almost sent me over the edge. I nodded, my head resting against his shoulder now, and let him walk me backwards until I felt the bed against the backs of my legs. A part of my brain noted my hat sitting next to his pajama bottoms, near the door. I had no idea when it had fallen off. He pushed my pants and underwear off of my hips, and I sat, then lay down, my hand moving to my erection.

He stood and watched, those dark eyes cataloging me, as I moved my hand over my cock, faster and faster, and when I came, he reached out and brought my hand to his mouth. He licked my hand clean, and if I were a few years younger, I think I would have been hard again from the sensuality of that act, from knowing that he wanted to taste me.

He stood and looked at me for a moment, then walked to the bathroom, andwith a washcloth. I cleaned off in silence, then handed the washcloth back to him. I stood and pulled my pants and underwear back up, then retrieved my hat and his pajama bottoms from the doorway.

I opened my mouth to speak.

"It's okay, Harry. We'll talk later. Help me back into bed?" He smiled at me, the same smile as always.

"Sure," I said. I didn't know what to say yet, I was still amazed at what had happened. I think he knew that. So I helped him back into his pajamas and into bed.

"Goodnight, Harry," he said.

"Goodnight, Dale," I said, and left.

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THE END

Feeeeeed me, Seymour!

Tiriel

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