Title: Pillow Talk

Author: Candy Apple (candyjbshsc)

Fandom: Donald Strachey Mysteries (Movieverse)

Pairing/Characters: Donald/Timothy

Rating/Category: NC-17, slash

Prompt: Nocturnal

Spoilers: Predates the movie timeline, so no.

Summary: Donald discovers that he's better at pillow talk than he thought.

Notes/Warnings: None I can think of.

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PILLOW TALK

by

Candy Apple

I had a feeling Timothy would be a talker after sex. Not that he'd overpower me with a bunch of annoying cooing and slobbering, but he definitely wasn't the kind of guy you screwed and then rolled over and went to sleep. He wasn't the kind of guy you "screwed" at all. He was the kind of guy you made promises to, romanced, fell in love with, and then made love to.

The kind of guy I typically would have avoided like the plague.

Timothy is a nice guy. Not just because he's sweet and caring and sensitive and understanding and... yeah, I've got it bad. But he's a nice guy...I mean, the kind of guy who hasn't been around much. He doesn't give it up for every guy who buys him a martini or takes him to dinner. That was obvious when we were making love - that he didn't do it that way often, because it took some romancing and some extra time with my fingers to get him relaxed.

But that was okay. I'd been waiting for this for months, so a few extra minutes were no big deal. He taught me about dating and romance, about falling in love the old fashioned way, he renewed my faith that all that could still happen to me, that I was the kind of guy someone would fall in love with and want forever. That my heart, my mind, my ideas and my feelings...that they were worth as much as my ass or my dick. That just my presence could make someone like him light up like Christmas. Me.

So here we were, lying in his bed, sharing a pillow, face to face, and I knew I should say something. I suck at pillow talk. I mean, what should I say? Gee, your ass was even better than I expected? How long do you typically need before round two? Got any food in the house?

I looked into his beautiful eyes and smiled at him. He smiled back, and looked down a little. Some guys play shy and coy, but Timmy doesn't play anything. Something about a little post-sex shyness in him was endearing, because it was such an open, unguarded emotion, not an act he was putting on to try to be cute. Being inside him had outdone my best fantasy. His body is amazing, and he makes love with a warmth and intensity I never felt before. It's like he thinks it's something precious, something sacred, almost. With him, it is.

I told him I loved him while we were dancing that night, and I'm pretty sure I made a few promises, too. Now that we'd made love, it was time for me to regret that or start looking for the nearest exit. But I didn't. I meant every promise I made, and I loved him even more than I did on the dance floor when I professed my feelings.

I took him in my arms and kissed him, then caressed his face gently.

"Someday when I'm old, and I try to remember the most amazing moment of my life, making love to you the first time is going to be it," I said, letting it all hang out emotionally. "I love you, sweetheart." I've never been a love name kind of person in a dating relationship, but Timothy made me a hopeless romantic. He's my honey, my sweetheart, my baby, my partner, my friend, my love forever, and I can't even think of enough good things to call him.

His eyes filled up and he gave me that sweet little tilt of the head that he does when something I say or do really moves him.

"I love you, too," he replied, kissing me. "It was even better than I thought it would be. And I thought it would be really good," he added, smiling.

I took his hand and kissed it, and looked at it. "How do you feel about rings?"

"What?" His eyes widened a bit.

"When we get married, do you want to wear wedding rings?"

"Married?"

"Yes, married. Try to keep up here, Timothy. Do you want to wear rings? I think I do. Plain gold wedding bands, so there's no confusion what they're for."

"Donald, wait a minute," he raised up on one elbow. "Wedding rings? What's going on here?"

"I'd get down on one knee, but it's kind of cold, and I'd rather be holding you in my arms anyway. Will you marry me, Timothy?"

"Are you insane?" he asked, smiling widely at me.

"I've been told I am, so yes, most likely."

"Of course I'll marry you!" he replied, hugging me, wrapping that wonderful warm body around me. Then he let go a minute and looked me in the eyes. "Don, you don't have to...just because... I know I held out on you a long time, and that's not why... I wanted it to be special, the first time."

"Our first time? It couldn't have been any more special, sweetheart."

"I mean...my first time."

"I don't understand. You told me about other boyfriends - "

"Yes, I dated some other guys, and I was intimate with a couple of them...but not like this."

"Timmy, honey, why didn't you tell me?" I tried to replay the whole thing in my mind, figure out if I'd missed a signal where he was in pain or having trouble with me pushing inside him, how I could have made love to him and not known he was a virgin to that. "Baby, did I hurt you?"

"No, you didn't hurt me. You were so gentle and caring and you took such good care of me...it hurt a little at first, probably just because I was nervous, but you made it beautiful for me."

"I'm your first?"

"I wanted to really be in love when I made love that way. Now I am, and it was everything I hoped it would be."

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have been more careful, taken more time, something - "

"You told me you loved me, that you didn't want us to see other people...it just felt right, and I wanted it to be natural and good and passionate, without you worrying about it. I didn't want to burden you with it, so you felt obligated to me, and so...so you didn't enjoy yourself. And I trust you," he added softly. "I didn't need to tell you to be gentle. You just were, and I knew you would be. It's in the way you touch me all the time."

"I want to be your last and your only, Timothy. If I have you...I'll be the luckiest guy in the world."

"You'll always have me, if I always have you."

"It's a deal," I agreed, kissing his sweet lips again, still in awe of what he'd told me. I'd put my heart and soul into making love to him, I'd tried to treat him like the amazing, precious thing he was. I guess I did that, and somehow he felt I was worthy of the incomparable gift of his first time. I've spent years of my life doing my best to live up to that, and according to my Timmy, I have.

And, to my surprise, when I woke up the next morning, engaged to an angel who made my every fantasy pale in comparison, I had to admit there was something to be said for pillow talk with the right person.