revivalproject | If You Can't Find Hands, Make Them

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If You Can't Find Hands, Make Them

WHO: Tommy Shepherd, Open
WHERE: Greenhouse, Diner, Civics Center Pool
WHAT: Preparations for the Agrii, Pool Boy Shepherd, Faking He's Okay
WHEN: March, mostly mid to late month
WARNINGS: N/A

1. If You Teach A Bot To Weed... | Greenhouse

New helper bots? You better believe Tommy was going to find a way to get them to help him. Not until he tried to name them of course. Give them a chance to be their own people. Life gets weird when you have a sibling and parent who are synthezoids. But anyway, here they were, Tommy and one of the droids that he'd basically affixed some of the Sh'Ka gardening tools to, and Tommy looked exceptionally frustrated.

"No! Not that! That's a good shoot!"

Maybe he was not the best at programming. Building? He was getting better there. But how did you teach a machine what was good and what was bad without being there the whole time.

"Dammit, this might have been a really stupid idea. Maybe the Agrii can do datapoints?"

He looks so frustrated though. And maybe still more than a bit tired. Maybe he wasn't doing this for the Agrii. Maybe he just wanted help.

2. Okay Maybe Just Cleaning | Diner

This, at least, had less of disaster written all over it. The bot seemed to already be doing so well at sweeping and was even wiping down tables well.

"What do you think of Roberto?" he called out to the little machine, which ignored that since it didn't have the right verbal input. Tommy sighed.

"I miss droids that would talk back," he says to himself before he returns to chopping salad at the counter so he can watch the bot work. "You're not really friendly even if you're friend shaped. Though I think some people would be offended at proper AI running things here. So much prejudice against sentient machines."

3. Pool Boy Shepherd Doing All Your Work | Civics Center Roof

Okay, maybe it's not fair to call him a poolboy. But hey, he's by a pool, he's in short shorts and a crop top and flipflops, and he's cleaning up the top of the Civics Center roof. Actually, Tommy's been at it for a few days now. If he's learned anything about the Agrii, it's that they like water, and he wanted to make sure there was a safe place to do that at. He had heard stories, he didn't remember where, that the remains of the flooded area that he and Vision and Katara had reduced back in their first days here could be dangerous. Who knew if the Agrii could handle that.

But hey, if Tommy knew one thing, it was what went into a fucking baller rooftop tropical getaway. He may have 'borrowed' those of wealthy people the world over more than a few times. So on any given day he could be seen at one of many kinds of work. One afternoon it's using a pump system to pump the less than clean water from the pool. Another it's scrubbing the thing thoroughly, usually with some sort of cleaning towels on his feet while he ran around it (friction was a good cleaning method). Another afternoon it's spreading some weird stinky putty stuff that would dry hard that the old guy Reeve gave him into cracks and holes and letting it try. And of course there's the trying to restore the tile work to it.

Frankly, he was giving himself a crash course in pool repairs.

And when he wasn't working on restoring the whole surprisingly deep thing (it made sense now that he knew some Agrii), he was working on the area around it. Some of the plants that had grown up over the top of the building he was carefully trimming back. In other places he was putting young potted trees with wide leaves to create cooling shade, and anchoring their pots down for safety. There were even some things that looked like his attempts at dragging some kinds of cushions up to the roof for reclining. He was trying, even if he wasn't certain exactly what was needed. And after his funk, he deserved applause for doing this much.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

No, they really hadn't. The downside of going at Billy's pace it seemed, and another with the guy jumping the gun so quickly. He feels that heat from Tommy's face against his scarred up chest and there is a chuckle. Not a mean one, but an endeared chuckle.

"I should be surprised by this. You do everything fast n' shit, so maybe that's why I'm not?" A glance down to see that Tommy's ears are pink. Heh. Adorable.

His hands all move to cup Tommy's face, trying to put enough pressure to lift them up. "Don't make excuses for blowing your wad early, babe. We both know it's because I am amazingly hot."

No, he probably shouldn't be shocked at all. But it's awkward for Tommy. He would pout over it if Billy were meaner. As it was he was going to refrain from pointing out that he could go for a stupidly long time. Maybe energizer bunny was the better choice of description.

"You're a brat," he declares when he lifts his eyes. "You may be hot and I may be in a hell of a dry spell, but it's definitely not just because you're hot. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't explain it. Honestly if you'd already gotten a handful..."

Well, he would have embarrassed his shorts. And probably Billy's.

His shorts that he was definitely only concealed by at this point because the moment of embarrassment had been a set back.

"Ha! I'm your brat. Remember that." He leans in to press his nose and lips to Tommy's cheek. "Kinda hot knowing my guy can go multiple rounds, really. I like a guy that can wear me out."

He presses a hungry kiss to that cheek and pulls back. "Bet my dry spell's longer than yours. I haven't gotten laid since '85." Now he grins like that's the epitome of humor right there. "Now. You wanna keep going or actually go back down to the kitchen to make lunch? I'll uh. Need a minute or two if that's the case."

Hot? Tommy looks shocked at the statement. He's not used to guys saying that. Girls don't mind as much if he remembers to keep it, well, safe. Which can be a whole thing when you've gotta buy special and need a ton.

"Time games. Cute. As for plans, if you head down for lunch it's happening solo."

"I am cute, thanks for noticing. It's the curls."

Though the thought of leaving Tommy up here to let himself take care of matters flares up something a little hot and jealous. He wants to take care of his partner. Even if it's not full blown sex, Billy wants to do it. Hearing that he'd be going to lunch by himself almost feels like a challenge.

A challenge all in his head, but the blonde slides his hands under his boyfriend's ass and lifts him up. Moves until the speedster gets deposited onto the bed with Billy covering him like a blanket. "Not letting you solo finish anything I started, babe."

That grind starts back up, with feverish kisses hitting anywhere he can find skin at.

If anyone else did this, Tommy would yelp and protest being manhandled. As it was he moaned at the very idea Billy could manhandle him so easily. He really preferred that in guys after all.

Then he's spread on his own bed, half writhing as Billy keeps moving against him.

"What if I don't want to ruin my favorite laundry day shorts?" He gasps out, fingers reaching up to curl in Billy's hair.

If anyone else did that, Billy would send them on an emergency trip to the hospital.

The moan really does it for him as he shifts and pushes until he's got Tommy's legs on either side of his so they can grind - albeit clothed - against each other. "Sounds like you'll have to do more laundry. Or let me get the waistband of them down enough so you can miss them when you shoot."

And Billy's breathy, blue eyes dark as he moves against his boyfriend. The hands in his hair don't go unnoticed as he pulls gently against that hold. A suggestion, if Tommy would like.

Yes he would like. Very much like. Very much like a lot of things.

"Yes," he says with a shuddering breath. And, of course a tug of Billy's hair. "No white hair jokes."

Because while he doesn't have a happy trail, that doesn't mean he fully manscapes at all. Not even remotely. And all of his hair is snowy white. All of it.

"Taking all my fun away," Billy pouts. He tugs his curls against Tommy's hold again. "Wait, hang on-"

He has to pause long enough to wiggle a hand between them. First to get the shorts' waistband down enough like he said - with even a cautious, almost shy stroke against his boyfriend's dick - before going to his own shorts. While Billy doesn't mind doing laundry, it's easier if they're on the same level.

So when he slots their hips back together, he moans at the heat and solidness of it. "Fuck, babe."

Hang on? Hang on?

Hang on he says like Tommy doesn't almost lose it at the light touch from Billy working him free. Like he doesn't almost lose it again at the very sight of Billy working himself free.

What Tommy doesn't manage is to keep himself back the moment he feels the heat, the weight, the solidness against his own. He arcs up against Billy with almost enough strength to buck the guy aside. Probably would if his hands hadn't flown for Billy's hips at impossible speed to hold him there.

He spills in quick, hot spurts rather quickly. It's unmistakeable what the moment is.

It just also happens to be undeniable that he's still completely hard. Painfully hard and aroused. That's just his life.

It’s getting a little rougher between them, now that they’re finding their comfortable level with each other. He feels the press of hands at his hips nearly the same time that Tommy bucks like a bull under him. That motion only makes him thrust back in answer, but he doesn’t need to go that.

Billy looks down between them to marvel at the sight of them moving together. How well they fit like this. Then Tommy’s reaching his peak, splattering both of them with white.

And yet, his guy hasn’t softened. "Fuck, look at you. I should be calling you some names with you hard like that, but I think grinding with you is gonna do the trick for now." He licks his lips. Gives an experimental push again to test the waters.

"Call me whatever you want if you don't stop moving," Tommy whines, the pitch of his voice raising as he keeps rocking his hips against Billy's. If the guy stops moving, he will too, but fuck, he'd hate it.

One of his hands gets brave, grabs a handful of Billy's ass. The other finds the blonde's hair again and gives it a more forceful pull. Still not straight out yanking. But enough to be felt.

"You seem like a talker. I like your voice. Talk dirty to me, if it's your style, sunshine."

That sounds like an open invitation or a test. Billy doesn’t know how far Tommy would be willing to let Billy’s mouth run with names, so he decides not to. Maybe he’ll try later. Or talk to him afterwards.

The grab and the pull sends signals through his body that cause his hips to jerk hard as his groan fills the space of the room. A bead forms at the head between them - he’s close.

"Fuck that’s good. Wanna fuck you into the sheets one day. Wanna watch you come undone under me," he rasps out, feeling his climax approaching.

Talk? Wouldn't that be a miracle for them both.

"Want you to," Tommy promises. "Fuck I want it."

But that is not today. What today can be is his hand leaving Billy's wonderful ass, wiping through the mess he'd made on himself, and then reaching down between them. He's got nothing but confidence as he wraps his hand around them both (okay, only mostly around them, but he made sure Billy got more coverage) for them to fuck into. The increased friction against each other was an added bonus of course.

They do pretty well at talking given how much they keep hidden away. Those thoughts are gone in the heat of pleasure wrapping around him - around them.

Billy’s pressing harder, trying to find more friction, but Tommy supplies it with a helping hand.

"Oh shit, Tommy—" he’s close. Billy knows he’s close. Tommy would feel the throb of him being close. Would the guy have loved to last longer? Yeah, but he really hasn’t gotten anything since June of '85.

Before he can stop and think too much about it - thinking is hard anyways - Billy ducks his head down into Tommy’s neck to start pressing lips and teeth into the skin.

Teeth and lips and the way Billy says his name. They're all like a drug? An itch that gets under his skin. A heat he can't shed.

Maybe another time he'll be embarrassed over the fact that clearly anyone who might be in the diner would hear him shouting Billy's name as he loses it again. Twice before Billy even gets once. Really, it's a gift and a curse all at once.

And still his body aches with want and need, so of course he doesn't stop thrusting. At the very least he owes Billy his own orgasm, and if this helps then it's worth it.

Between them gets messier and it’s enough for Billy to lose it. With a shout of Tommy’s name, Billy adds to the mess between them. It’s splatters on both of their lengths, Tommy’s hand, Tommy’s belly.

Those hips don’t stop, though they stutter as Billy feels the overstimulation of it. He raises up and pushes Tommy’s hand off of them. Replaces it with his own on just his boyfriend‘s length.

And in a breathy voice, "tell me what you like for this."

Success. Billy felt good and he's gotten off and Tommy did that. He helped cause that. Might be enough on most days to let him rest and deal with anything else when getting clean.

And then Billy does the unbelievable. For a guy who was so damn closeted for so long, to be so happy, even in the heat of the moment, to jerk Tommy off was mindblowing.

"Firm," he pants out as he thrusts into Billy's hand. "Tight. Work the head. Oh god."

His eyes flutter closed as he lets himself well and truly settle into the pleasure of the moment.

Despite how long he was holding himself in the closet, his mind never did so. It was a good mix of men and women in his fantasies, and how other men would feel in his hand. Or hands.

And now he didn’t have to be afraid. He could act on those dreams at long last. Billy follows the instructions with some difficulty in getting it right at the start.

Billy settles into a rhythm and breathes hotly to his boyfriend‘s ear. Groans into it. "Like that? Like having my hand on you like you’re mine? Because you are. No one else’s. Only I get to see you like this, and hear you, too. You’re mine, Tommy."

With how loud Tommy might be able to get, maybe not the only one to hear. But the rest he doesn't deny. He just moans at the implications there, frantically nodding as he thrusts into Billy's hand.

Because that sounds pretty good. Pretty worth while.

"Yes," he finally gasps out after a few more ragged breaths. "Yours. Fucking yours."

Probably not the only one to hear. Oh well, Billy will change his mind. Let them hear what he can do for his boyfriend. He tightens just a little, working at the head. He ducks his head down again, nipping where neck meets shoulder.

"All mine. All mine." Another couple of nips. "You gonna do it again for me? Got one more in the tank? C'mon, babe. Let me have it, let me see it. Let me feel what I do for you."

He's got more than one in the tank. But he's not caught up in those. No, his mind is on the here and now. God, the words are so good. They're a beautiful way to stoke his ego. His urge to be desired.

And then his body tenses, just one more time. Just once more, all for Billy. And he comes with a shout and a shake of his body.

Of course he does. Billy expects it. But breaks are in order.

He latches his lips and teeth in without thinking about it to suck a hickey low on the shoulder. Billy does desire his boyfriend, and glad they finally took another step between them.

Though the step is a little lost in his mind as Tommy tenses and delivers as told to.

"So handsome. So good for me like that. Got yourself nice and messy all for me."

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

TOmmy just lays there, groaning. But in a delighted sort of way. Fuck, he loved this moment.

"You're the best sort of asshole."

Billy finally rests his whole body down next to Tommy, but make sure to keep in physical touch with him.

"Mmm, I don't hear you complaining about it," he laughs and lets his hand run through the mess. Just like he would at home after he was finished with his own solo performance. "Which I'm guessing means I did a good job for you."

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