Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12011562.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Raven_Cycle_-_Maggie_Stiefvater
  Relationship:
      Richard_Gansey_III/Declan_Lynch
  Additional Tags:
      Dom/sub, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Face_Slapping, Humiliation, Praise
      Kink, Daddy_Kink, Aftercare, the_rarest_of_rare_pairs
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-06 Words: 2922
****** once is happenstance ******
by izzygone
Summary
     In which Gansey has a lot of needs, and Declan provides for basically
     all of them.
Notes
     Ummm.... I have no excuse for this. I just really, really wanted
     it?!?
     Little warnings: No safeword (but I included aftercare!!), wee bit of
     violence (just 1! slap across the face), marked underage because
     Gansey is under 18 and Declan is not (also Gansey has very brief
     thoughts about Matthew).
     Not beta'd, per usual.
See the end of the work for more notes
The first time it happened, it was Gansey's fault.
He’d busted into Declan’s place, uninvited and unannounced, ready to give
Declan a piece of his mind on the topic of how he treated Ronan since their
father had passed. He didn’t have much of a plan, not really, just that he felt
on fire after Ronan came home with yet another black eye and a look on his face
that meant he planned to drink himself three-quarters of the way dead.
But Gansey didn’t get very far, had hardly gotten a word out before Declan
turned to him, cool and put together as always, “Richard Campbell Gansey the
Third,” He said it that way, the way a strict mother might scold a misbehaving
child, “Shut up and sit the fuck down.”
The words were such a shock to Gansey, so direct, so authoritative, something
must have misfired in his brain because he complied. Without hesitation. He
found himself seated on one of the chairs at Declan’s table - was this
aconferencetable? - before he could really comprehend that he’d obeyed the
command and fuck, his knees felt weak so he thought maybe they’d actually given
out and that’s what landed him here.
“That’s better,” Declan stated, taking a deep swallow of the Scotch he was
evidently drinking. Gansey hadn’t even noticed, his rage was so complete, but
now he was paying attention, trying very hard not to think about how his cock
was somehow hardening in his chinos, something that was very much not helped by
noticing every little detail now. Declan had his sleeves rolled halfway up, his
toned forearms exposed, making him look just this side of disheveled. Or what
counted for disheveled when it came to the oldest Lynch brother. He even had
one button of his shirt collar undone and his tie loosened, exposing the hollow
of his throat and a little dip of smooth chest, and god, why was Gansey
noticing this?
Declan half-turned away for a second, setting the now-empty crystal tumblr
firmly on the table and reaching up to loosen the knotted tie a little further.
He turned back to Gansey as he pulled it free and off, and Gansey felt himself
flush a little, made him want to turn his face away, like he was getting to see
a private moment in Declan’s world, something he’d never imagined being privy
to. Instead, he found himself cataloging every detail for later study. What was
it about these simple, precise movements that always fascinated him when it
came to Declan? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Declan was staring at him now, not quite a smile on his lips, pensive like he
was deciding just what to do with Gansey. “What is it about boys like you?” He
asked, finally, and Gansey opened his mouth to reply - he was 17, damn it, not
some child - but Declan silenced him again by holding just one finger up. He
licked his lips and waited as Gansey closed his mouth again, “There, that’s a
good boy.”
He looked for a second like he might pat Gansey on the shoulder, like he was a
well-behaved pet. 
Gansey didn’t really want to acknowledge how that thought made him shiver. Or
how his cock twitched at the words. Good boy.
What the hell was he still doing here? He didn’t need to sit here and be
patronized by a boy who was barely even much older than him, anyway. He was
going to say what he came here to say - which was…? He couldn’t really remember
in this second, his brain busy replaying the motion of Declan’s tongue flicking
over his lips - 
He was going to say what he had to say and he was going to get the hell out of
here. He made a motion to stand, and probably shouldn’t have been surprised by
the blazing glare in Declan’s eyes as he was immediately shoved back down, “Did
I say you could fucking move?” Declan’s voice was as calm as ever, but with an
edge to it, and Gansey’s cock pulsed and he felt the shame of precome sticking
to his boxer-briefs.
He really needed to get himself together. Whatever this was, he wanted no part
in it. He wasn’t even interested in Declan that way.
Well. He did have eyes, and you’d have to be blind to not see how each of the
Lynch brothers was perfectly formed. But he certainly never thought of any of
them this way.
Except, maybe of taking Ronan into his bed, kissing away every bruise and every
fear and surrounding him like a shield against all harm, forever, always.
Making sure he felt nothing but pleasure for the rest of his days.
And maybe, sometimes, rarely, in the very dark corners of his mind, with all
the doors in Monmouth locked and bolted tight, in the middle of the night and
in the very back of the shower, he thought of Matthew. His bright eyes, his
innocence, his smile. All the best parts of Ronan from back when he was able to
show those pieces of himself, except more delicate. Beautiful and ready to be
taught so many things.
But never, never Declan.
Except. When Gansey drove the Pig hard and fast away until he got lost in the
darkness of a forest somewhere and he could imagine fingers flexing around his
throat and strong hands taking him apart, giving him what he needed when he
couldn’t even form the words, when there was no one alive he trusted enough to
speak them to.
But this wasn’t the forest, this wasn’t something he could work out with his
fist and pretend never happened, never existed except in the darkest parts of
his soul.
This was broad daylight, and this was real.
Declan kept him pinned with a cold glance just a moment longer, but Gansey made
no further moves. Satisfied, Declan reached for the bottle, pouring himself
another two fingers of whiskey, “What is it about boys like you?” He repeated,
Gansey smart enough now to recognize it as rhetorical, “You grew up old money.
Is it just that your daddy didn’t spend enough time with you?” Gansey flushed
again, a fresh coat of precome making his briefs even more uncomfortable.
Daddy. Was it possible Gansey had brought this version of Declan from his
dreams? “Or maybe he just didn’t discipline you right, and your pathetic
overpaid nanny wouldn’t dare lay a finger on a perfect little rich boy like
you.”
It was true his father rarely disciplined him. Not, at least, the way Niall
Lynch had his boys - Gansey had grown up completely whole, scarless,
bruiseless, not even a spanking had been given in the Gansey household.
Spanking, fuck. He wished he hadn’t thought of that. He stared resolutely at
the carpet - tope had always been his least favorite color.
“You’re supposed to be the smart one, Dick,” Declan continued, sipping his
whiskey, casual, “Yet here you are, acting like this has anything to do with my
brother.”
Gansey tore his eyes away from the carpet, ready, again, to fight back. But one
glare from Declan emptied the fight right out of him. He was leaning against
the table, towering over Gansey. He looked powerful, like every move he’d ever
made - from the bruises blossoming on Ronan’s cheek to the inelegant rolling of
his sleeves - had been done with intent to lead them here and now he had Gansey
right where he wanted him.
It should have made Gansey fucking furious. Instead, it drained him. Somehow,
Declan had known everything the entire time. Gansey couldn’t hide this for all
his trying. He whimpered, hating himself wholeheartedly for being so damn
transparent.
“I’m going to do this for you,” Declan continued, downing the last of what was
guaranteed to be very fine Scotch without so much as a thought and setting the
glass back upon the table, “Once.” The word was hard and final and made
Gansey’s balls ache, please, he didn’t know what Declan was offering and he
knew he was out of his depth, but he wanted, “I won’t make it so easy in the
future.” Gansey swallowed, the future. “Nod if you understand me.”
It took a little too much thinking to manage it, but eventually he nodded,
blinking from the terrifying realization of this moment. How in holy hell did
they get here - what had Gansey said, done to reveal the very deepest, most
shameful part of himself? How did Declan know that every command he’d ever
given in front of Gansey, whether to Ronan or to himself, had made Gansey want
to fall on his knees and beg for another?
“There you go,” Declan leaned back further on the table, the perfect facsimile
of casual, “Now be a good boy and unzip yourself.”
Gansey stayed frozen for a moment too long, his brain not quite able to
comprehend the direction and then communicate it to his body, and the slap came
so fast, so absolutely out of goddamn nowhere, that for a second it didn’t even
hurt. Just left Gansey gaping, dick pulsing so uncomfortably against the
constraints of his chinos and Armani briefs that he really, really wished he’d
been quicker on the uptake, “If you’re not going to behave, I’ll end this right
now. Is that what you want?” Gansey shook his head furiously, his brain’s
ability to focus returning sharply with the sting of the slap, his face
flushing brilliantly and his cock embarrassingly hard. And all he could think
was: please, another and what the fuck, had Declan, a fucking trained boxer,
really just open-palm fucking slapped him? And god, had he really liked it? 
“Let’s try this again then. Unzip those tasteless khakis.” Prepared this time,
Gansey wasted no time, undoing his chinos and relieving so much pressure he had
to actually bite his tongue to stop from moaning, “There you go, baby, now take
your cock out.”
Gansey let out a low whine as he reached into his briefs, gingerly lifting his
too-sensitive dick out of its confines. Baby. Fuck.
Declan reached over again, lifting the bottle to pour himself a near-full glass
of Scotch. He took a sip then licked his lips. Gansey really fucking hated him
in that moment. Here he was, holding his cock tight in his palm like taming a
fucking wild animal, and there Declan was, nonchalantly sipping imported
whiskey. “Now let me see you touch yourself.”
Gansey bit his lip and let out another whimper. He couldn’t, shouldn’t, do
this. But one glance back at Declan’s calm demeanor, his high cheekbones, his
perfectly pleated khakis and unruffled shirt still tucked in, and Gansey knew
he was going to absolutely anything and everything Declan asked of him in this
moment.
And this command certainly wasn’t a chore. His hand was already on his dick,
and he was already so slick from hot splashes of precome coating the head. So
he swallowed hard and started to move his fist, slowly, biting his lip like he
was determined to draw blood -
“That’s it, don’t hold back,” Declan leaned forward slightly, the only
indication beyond the low drawl of his voice to betray any interest in these
proceedings, “You’re being so good for me, baby.”
Gansey couldn’t stop himself from gliding his hand faster, up down, over the
ridge of the head of his cock. All he wanted was to be good. All he ever wanted
was for someone to tell him he was doing a good job. He couldn’t help looking
up at Declan, seeking guidance, approval, some sign that Declan had dreamt
about this too, daddy please, he had to grit his teeth not to say it.
“Come on, baby boy, you can go faster than that. Show me how you like it.”
Gansey bit back another moan. He stripped his cock harder, faster, efficiently,
but this wasn’t how he liked it.
Well. Wasn’t just how he liked it. But it would be hard to get two fingers
in himself from this angle and without dropping his pants to the ground.
And Declan hadn’t given him permission for that yet.
“Yeah,” Declan was almost cooing now, giving up most of his pretense of
indifference as he leaned forward, “Do you want to come, sweetheart?”
Gansey hissed out another whine, his eyes wide and pleading. He must have
looked so embarrassingly pathetic, one hand running over his cock lightning
fast, the other clutching the fabric of the chair below him like he might fall
out.
“It’s okay, baby,” Declan’s voice was low, soothing, but he made no motion
toward his own cock, and Gansey had to wonder again how he kept his cool all
the damn time, “Show me what you look like when you come, baby boy, don’t hold
back. I want to hear all those little noises you make.”
Gansey nearly choked, but then unclenched his teeth. He wanted to give Declan
what he wanted, wanted to be so good. He knew immediately he was going to get
too loud, each slick movement of his hand making him desperate to rut against
something, god, against the rough of Declan’s dress trousers. But that’s
something a bad boy would do, so he didn’t move, just moaned, and cursed and
hated himself for needing this as desperately as he did.
“There you go. Be a good boy for me, okay? Catch every drop in your hand,
alright Gansey?” He’d set the tumbler down again, but Gansey hadn’t even
noticed, everything focusing down to just the movement of his hands over his
dick and the sound of Declan’s sweet, sweet voice, “If you miss any, I’ll make
you lick it off the floor.” Fuck, Gansey might have cursed aloud, too, “Nod if
you understand me.” 
It didn’t take a second for Gansey to nod, yes, yes, daddy, anything please. 
“Okay, babe, go ahead and come for me.”
And that was all it took. Gansey felt it in his bones, knew he was going to
collapse from it, but held one hand firm over the tip of his cock, catching
every drop, while the other continued mindlessly, milking out everything he had
left.
After, he looked up at Declan only to find him closer, close enough to
touch and rubbing his hand soothingly through Gansey’s hair, “There’s my good
boy. Now go ahead and clean yourself up.”
Gansey couldn’t pretend like he’d never done it before - there weren’t too many
places to wipe come off in the Camaro in the middle of the night - but he could
never before say it was his favorite part of this kind of activity.
But that changed in this moment, as Gansey brought his hand to his mouth and
watched Declan’s open-mouth stare, watched the way his Adam’s apple moved as
he swallowed, like this was the best part of the whole show. 
Which, of course, meant Gansey had to be thorough. He examined and licked each
finger clean, pulling each digit into his mouth, one by one, for a long, hot
second before popping it out and moving on to the next. He licked his palm and
suckled his thumb as Declan pet his hair and whispered, yes, and baby, and my
good little boy.
Gansey was pretty sure he’d gotten it all, but it was still a long minute of
gratuitous sucking before Declan finally, finally reached out and touched him,
grabbing the hand and pulling it in for inspection.
After a minute, he seemed satisfied and pulled away, letting Gansey’s hand fall
back onto his lap then standing up. 
Gansey sat, blinking up, dazed and uncomprehending. He couldn’t, to save his
life, remember what he’d come here to say, and he wasn’t entirely sure he could
stand, let along walk himself all the way back to his vehicle. He watched,
suddenly cold and even more confused as Declan walked away.
He just walked away. To the fridge. Was he finished with Gansey and was just
going to, what, fix himself dinner? How could he, when Gansey had tried so hard
to be such a good boy - 
But then he turned back around, a water bottle in hand. He carefully unscrewed
the cap, but didn’t just hand it over to Gansey. Instead, he held it to
Gansey’s lips and let him drink. And god, Gansey was so thirsty. Everything had
been so intense and was Declan providing aftercare? Gansey grabbed at the
bottle, pretty sure now he could hold it for himself. Declan stood again,
walking to the sink, wetting a cloth and returning again, taking a moment to
inspect Gansey’s face, checking for any mark from the slap, but that pain had
long dissipated so Gansey waved him off with a gesture. Then he leaned back and
sat still, mind slowly clearing with each stroke of the cloth over his skin as
Declan cleaned him, wiping the sweat from his brow and neck, then each of his
fingers, finally gently over his cock. Eventually satisfied, he carefully
tucked Gansey away and zipped his chinos. 
“Thank you,” Gansey managed, nearly sounding like himself again, though a
minute delayed as Declan stood again, retreating a foot or two to the safety of
his spot against the table.
Declan just nodded, “Like I said. Once.” 
Gansey swallowed and nodded back. Once. Just once.
It won’t be so easy in the future. But, Gansey thought, just maybe, it’d be
worth it to work for it.
 
End Notes
     I really, really, REALLY want to write a sequel for this, so don't be
     afraid to come discuss it with me on tumblr at the-real-izzygone.
     And I PROMISE I'll write rovinsky again. Soon!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!