Title: Gone Away
Type: Fanfiction, One-Shot
Summary: You don't really appreciate some things until they're gone. Harry/Perry
Disclaimer: I do not own Kiss Kiss Bang Bang or any related plots and characters. They are the property of others who, as I have previously stated, are not myself. I am merely writing this for fun, and have no intention of using it for profit.
Notes: Written for rounds_of_kink
round eight, day five. Came in a bit late.
"Where've you been?"
All right, that was sort of expected. I mean, I did sort of up and leave for a week, and — okay, I don't have any sort of good
excuse. I wasn't on a case, no one kidnapped me, and I hadn't even been with Harmony. I'd sort of just felt like going to Las Vegas.
I know what you're thinking: you're thinking, "Harry Lockhart, you're a fucking idiot." And you know what? Perry would agree with you. Actually, right at that moment, walking into the apartment-slash-office we'd been sharing — okay, the apartment-slash-office Perry had been letting me crash in since Christmas — I would've agreed with you, too.
The thing is, I don't really think things through. And it wasn't like it was the first time I'd up and left without warning; I usually left a note or something, but that was about it. I'd taken a three-day trip to Mexico the month before and the only notice I gave Perry was a message on his cell phone: "Adios, Señor Gay Perry
! Off to Mexico, see you when I see you." And yeah, he'd been pissed, so it wasn't like I wasn't expecting to be yelled at.
Except he didn't really yell. Okay, that's a lie: he did yell. It just wasn't right then. I came in the door, suitcase in one hand and the one chip I'd managed to salvage in the other, and then Perry threw himself at me
You know what Perry looks like, what he acts
like. I couldn't have defended myself if I tried. I considered my options, but it seemed like the only way out was to flop on the floor and play dead, and even then he'd probably shoot me just to make sure.
I was expecting, you know, a fist to the face or something. I'd gone off work for a week and he probably had some case he "needed" me for — or had wanted me to pick up his dry cleaning or something — and I expected punishment.
I didn't get it, and he didn't punch me. He hugged me instead.
Yeah. Weird, I know.
At least he hit me on the head after, when he pulled away, but it didn't change the fact this his eyes were all shiny, like he was crying.
Because he was. Crying, I mean, which compounded the weird and threw us into a whole 'nother universe of "this is really fucking weird." I was honestly surprised he didn't have a goatee anymore, because this was clearly the evil, alternate universe version of Perry.
"I'm sorry," I babbled quickly, dropping my suitcase and putting the chip in my pocket. "I don't really have an excuse and I fully expect to not be paid for this week and I'll get your laundry right now if you need but please don't fire me
Perry stared for a moment, then hit me over the head again.
Okay, maybe not alternate universe Perry. Possibly still evil, though.
"You idiot," he hissed, but his eyes were still shining, and he couldn't really hide that without making it more
obvious. "Where the fuck did you go?"
So I told him. He hit me again.
!" He sounded angrier and
more relieved at the same time. That's kind of impressive, actually; I can't do that. I'm just angry or
relieved, or I try to go between the two and just end up confused. Or dizzy. "I thought you were dead
Oh. Oh, shit. Well, all right, I guess I can forgive a little shine in the eye then. I honestly hadn't thought that the guy would be worried — I just thought he'd figure I finally flaked out for good. I'm flakey. I thought he knew.
"Why the hell didn't you call or— or anything?" Aw, a little stutter. He must've really
"I didn't think about it." Perry moved to hit me again, but I ducked — and hit my head on the still-open door, but at least he didn't hit me. "Jeez, Perry, you're acting like you actually care."
"What if I needed you to do something for me?" Pfft, like I even did much at Sentron. Perry doesn't really like it when I endanger his life by attracting attention. "What if I had plans for the week and those plans included you?"
I rolled my eyes. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to grab your take-out or whatever it was you had planned
for me. Like I said, take it out of my paycheck." Okay, so maybe that was a little cocky of me, but it had gotten to the point where I was pretty sure he wasn't going to fire me, and his nagging was a little annoying and repetitive. Kind of like my mom, actually.
That's not a pleasant thought.
"I'll remember to leave a note next time." I bent down to pick my suitcase up again and head to my room, but before I even got my fingers wrapped around the handle he was lunging at me again. He didn't hug me that time; he put his hands on my chest, pushed me back into the door so that it slammed shut, and got real
"You're going to fucking listen, Harry." He looked angry and a little scared, and he's actually pretty good with that simultaneous conflicting emotion thing. "No more running out without any notice, or being gone for days without at least making a call in. Sometimes I just need you here, damn it."
Now, okay, when you read that it sounds sort of sappy, right? It didn't seem so sappy when he was growling it into my face
. It was actually sort of scary. Scary Perry, huh. He needed a breath mint, too.
And then, unsurprisingly, I said something stupid.
"Jeez, Perry, you make it sound like you're in love with me or something."
The double-emotion thing on his face sort of faltered, and he looked cool and composed for all of a tenth of a second before he lunged at me for a third time, except—
Except this time there wasn't any violence and there weren't any tears.
Sometimes I forget— and I know it's dumb, but— sometimes I forget that Perry's gay. I know, he's Gay Perry and all and he fucks guys and he dated that doctor for two months and he does some really gay shit, but still. All my life there's been a sort of separation between me and gay men, at least in my head, and I admit, I never saw myself being friends with one, and then all of a sudden I was (and it turned out I had been before; I called up Chook Chutney, and it turned out he was gay. Apparently Harmony was the last girl he was with. Life's like that, I guess). The point is, after getting over all the shit about how he kissed me
and the freak out and the weirdness of it the first time I could hear him fucking some guy — we have thin walls — it just didn't seem like he was gay anymore. Not a threat, I guess. He was just Perry, and sometimes people made a stupid pun about his name.
He reminded me, though, in a big way. Gay Perry isn't just a name, and apparently he can actually kiss pretty well, because that first one was a quick-let's-look-less-suspicious thing and this one was—
Well, it was one that made me seriously reconsider some things.
And before you get all up-in-arms about the Harmony thing— no. It wasn't a thing. I mean, it was, it was kind of a big thing, but that was for me. Don't get me wrong, Harmony cared — cares
, actually, but not in that way. And I never got a chance to convince her to give me a chance, really, because after I got shot there was the hospital, and then her sister's funeral, and you really can't mack on a girl when she's standing over her sister's casket crying, or even a week later, because she's still in mourning. It's creepy. By the time it felt safe to, the chance had just slipped away, and I was okay with that. I mean, I still talk to her, and we have fun, we just don't do anything naked. Well, all right, there was that one night we did naked karaoke, but there was no funny stuff. I promise. I was a complete gentleman. Also, Marleah was there, and she's sort of scary and deterred me from any drunken attempts at, uh, anything. I did not want to wake up next to her again.
But back to Perry and my Big Gay Revelation.
Perry had his hands on the door on either side of me, so I really couldn't escape the kiss, but I realized after a few seconds that I really didn't want to. There was no tongue and it was just kind of a kiss that was there
, like, "Hey, would you mind if I kissed you?" —that sort of kiss. But it wasn't bad, and it didn't last too long.
Perry pulled back, but didn't move his hands. He just looked
for a second, like he was trying to figure something out about me, or like there was something on my face, I don't know. There might've been something on my face. I had just had lunch, after all. I closed my eyes, then; I get kind of unnerved when people look at me like that.
The next thing I knew, I could feel his breath on my ear, and he was speaking in a voice I'd previously only associated with him holding a gun up and preparing to shoot someone. It turned me on a little. "I couldn't stop thinking about you all week. All fucking week, Harry. At first I was just pissed off that you could be so stupid."
"I am stupid, I'm sorry," I muttered. My brain was sort of melting at that point, like it had been left in the sun for too long. Perry would have some things to say about that. I really was sorry, though, but mostly I just wanted him to kiss me again.
"Of course you are," Perry said, pressing his lips to the skin just below my ear before going on. "You're an idiot, and then I realized that I actually wanted you to come back. I needed
you to come back. I do need you here, Harry. I actually even want
I let out a shuddery breath. He was pressed right up against me, and I could feel his hard-on against my leg, normally something I'd run from, but in that moment it just made my knees go weak.
"I want you, Harry." My hips jerked a little, and yeah, I was definitely hard. It didn't seem right, to go from not gay to completely hard for my completely male boss so fast, but what could I do? Harry Junior's got a mind of his own, and he liked what he was hearing. "I want to fuck you. I want to fuck you through the floor so that you'll never want to leave again. Can you deal with that?"
"Yeah," I breathed, and then panic flared up, because holy shit
, had I just agreed to being fucked through the floor? It seemed like I had. "Yeah, uh, but— I need— I need to think about it. Get a handle on it, right?"
He looked surprised, but even with his boner pressing into my like that he didn't seem to have any problem stepping away, letting me have my space. I wondered how many guys had only realized they were gay when Perry had kissed them, and then I stopped wondering because his thigh brushed against my cock and suddenly I didn't want to think about it anymore.
"I've thought about it," I announced, grabbing him by the shirt and smashing my face against his, which, yeah, was not the most graceful first gay kiss ever. I mean, first gay kiss that I'd initiated. Perry fixed it, though, because Perry fixes my mistakes, and then there was tongue and Perry really, really can kiss.
He pushed and pulled me until we were stumbling away from the door. The first room you come in the apartment-slash-office is, of course, the office; it wouldn't make a lot of sense for us to let people straight into our bedrooms instead of setting a real professional atmosphere, right? Right. That's what Perry said when I asked him about it, anyway. So the most obvious sex-friendly surface was Perry's desk.
As a formerly straight guy, you wouldn't think I'd really be all that eager to bend over for a guy. I wasn't, actually; I was trying to think about the logistics of it as we stumbled, with whatever brain function I could manage to summon up, and I was pretty sure we could have sex face-to-face somehow, or at least do something else that would get us off and not result in me bending over. The thought of me
didn't really come into the picture just then; I guess I sort of figured he wouldn't let me do it.
He does. Let me do it, I mean. It's great, but to be honest, I could live with just being fucked. Not that I'm real eager to give up being the fucker— uh, the one who does the fucking, per se, but—
Shit, I'm getting sidetracked. Back to the sex.
Anyway, I was surprised myself
when Perry shoved me away, turned me around, and bent me over his desk, because I just gripped the edges of it and held on while he undid my pants, trying not to run against the wood because, yeah, ow
. But the being bent over part was hot. I like Perry being in control. Not in a creepy, doesn't-let-me-do-shit way, even though that is sort of our relationship, but—
Sorry, sorry. You'd think when it comes to porn I'd stay on topic, but no, not me.
Where was I? Right. He was undoing my pants, and before I knew it I was naked from the waist down to my ankles, and Perry's pants were undone and he was pressing his fingers into me with something on them, some kind of lube — and yeah, Perry keeps sex jelly and condoms in his desk. And he wonders why people insist on calling him Gay Perry. Sheesh.
That was actually what I was thinking at the time. I was trying, really trying hard not to think about his fingers in my ass, because it didn't really hurt, not a lot anyway, but it felt weird
. I wasn't one of those kids who'd gotten curious as a teenager and stuck things up there. My ass had never seemed particularly interesting, you know? I sat on it, and some other stuff I try not to think about during sex, and that was about the extent of its usefulness.
And then, when he had three fingers in me and it was bordering on okay-maybe-this-hurts, he crooked them in this weird way and the edge of one finger, just the edge, brushed something.
And suddenly my ass was much more interesting than before.
"Jesus, do that again," I panted, and Perry laughed.
"Not yet." I heard the condom wrapped being opened, a sort of squishy-wet sound like the lube again. "You're already so hard, Harry. I don't need you shooting off until I'm fucking you hard
"I won't, I won't," I promised, but then I could feel him— Perry's cock, feeling sort of like his fingers, but a lot bigger, a lot
bigger and much more blunt. I didn't know how to feel about that
; part of me wanted it, knew the fingers hadn't been so bad and that I'd been really sure just a few minutes before, but another part of me was ready to cover my ass and run. Except I couldn't, because, you know... desk.
He didn't wait for me to relax or decide one way or the other. Perry's not all that patient a man, you know. He just sort of pressed on in, and it was startling and kind of hurt at first, but I had known
it would, and I tensed up more at first but when that made the pain worse, I sort of figured it out on my own that I had to relax.
See? I'm not that
Perry pushed in, slid on home until his chest was almost pressed into my back, his hands once again planted on either side of me. It wasn't all that bad; I needed a moment to adjust, yeah, and it didn't feel great, but I could see where the drag and burn friction of it, the full feeling could have its appeal. Really, I just wanted him to hit that spot again. His dick was filling me enough, and certainly big enough.
He pulled out, almost as slow as he'd pushed in, and then thrust in, faster, and—
Oh, yeah. That was it. God, I love that.
The thrust after that went faster yet, and so on, picking up speed and angled just right until I was squirming on the desk and trying not to let my cock bump the edge much, and let me just say that I cannot be held responsible for the noises I make when I'm having sex, even if they do sound like words, so if I choked out something that sounded like "I love you," well—
Well. I mean, it's not my fault.
When he heard that thing I didn't really say, though, he apparently took it as a directive to get his hand on my cock, so I wasn't going to argue right then and there, because oh yeah. Prostate and dick: two great tastes that go great together.
Right, pretend I didn't say that. Moving on...
It wasn't long after that that Perry's thrusts became sort of stunted, losing their rhythm, and then he made this sort of keening noise that was really weird to hear from him and kind of high pitched, and even though he had a condom on I could feel his come ballooning it up, spreading inside of me, even if the rubber did have it separated, so it didn't feel wet or anything like that. I was actually sort of disappointed.
He was still for a moment, and then, dick still in me and all, he went on pumping furiously, his other hand still on the desk, keeping him propped above me even when my arms gave way and my forehead his the wood maybe a little too hard, but I just couldn't care, because I was so close, so close—
And of course it would be right when the door opened that I came.
Yeah, awkward. Especially since it was a client, one that had already met with Perry and given him her money, and he had to talk her down for almost an hour before she stopped demanding her money back (because, what? Gay Perry was having gay sex? I think she said something about wasting time that could have been used to find out who her husband was screwing behind her back, but yeah, right. He was at work right at that time anyway). I retreated to my room for a while, and then, when Perry didn't call me downstairs or come looking for me, I got sort of frustrated.
I'm not patient either, you know.
When he did
come to look for me, he didn't find me in my room, or in my clothes, or any clothes at all. I don't think he minded.
You know, come to think of it, I guess I do sort of love Perry.
Don't tell him that.