The boat was a big undertaking, Simon knew that when he bought it. But the actual act of doing the work is wearing him out more than he'd anticipated too.
Inside the garage he pulls off his sweaty T-shirt with a sigh and tosses it toward the trash. It's covered with grit and grim from sanding the hull and not really worth saving. Dressed just in jeans, he makes his way through the house.
John's opened up the windows and the breeze is blowing through, carrying with it the soft sound of acoustic guitar. Not a song, per say, but a tune. Random and changing and soft. The sound makes him smile as he heads for the back deck.
Sure enough, his lover is there. Perched serenely on a wooden deck chair, long legs draped over the arm with his head back, strumming slowly. He's beautiful, Simon thinks. Hair blowing gently, guitar covering what may be total nakedness, it's hard to tell. The lines of his body bathed in the pale pink and yellow of the sunset. He leans against the door, shutting his eyes to listen.
John plays on, he's become aware that Simon is stood not too far away. Eventually he strums quietly to a stop.
"I can smell you from here," he laughs raising his head to look over at where a topless boyfriend is leaning in the door frame. When Simon does anything physical and works up a good sweat he exudes a scent that makes John's head spin. It used to be a problem back when they were touring, back when they were sneaking around and hiding their relationship from the world. And Simon had never cut him any slack, had always, always played up to it.
"Ah..." Simon gives himself a quick sniff. "I'm not that bad," he protests, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans. "Just good honest sweat..." Take that...
John quirks a brow. "Don't you dare think about a shower before I've fucked you," John warns, swinging his legs around and standing up to reveal he is indeed naked.
Simon cocks his head to the side, not bothering to hide the hunger in his eyes as he rakes them very slowly over John's body. He unhooks his thumbs from his jeans, giving John a 'come here' gesture.
"You think you're gonna be the top huh?" He asks with a raised eyebrow. John is...god he's John and that's the best compliment in Simon's mind. "Turn around, babe...slowly."
John places the guitar in the seat he's just vacated, then he steps toward Simon, just a couple of paces, he gets another waft of Simon's lust inducing pheromones and then he's turning, slowly to present, as requested, his back to his lover. His cock is fast filling out, thickening, lengthening and he huffs out a short breath, marveling at the thought that Simon can still do this to him.
Now that body is a hard on waiting to happen. One step and he's up behind John. Simon wraps one arm around his lover's waist, the other higher just under his chin. "What you were playing," he says, the hand closer to John's hip stroking slowly, "was really great." He hums softly, mimicking the melody into John's ear.
When John is receptive to it and Simon behaves just like that, it makes John's knees go weak. He tilts his head back a little, baring his throat a touch more. Now he can smell nothing but Simon's body and it's pure sex. Then to have that voice, a voice heard by a million fans, vibrating softly against his skin. His breath hitches and John closes his eyes.
He smiles, feeling John's body go so boneless in his arms. "Not going to shower..." He promises, one hand stroking John's neck, tilting his head back further. "Not until after I've gotten dirty from something...besides the boat."
He glances around. Their deck is very private. Unless someone is coming across the beach, which they rarely do in the secluded area, no one can really see them. "Spread your legs for me, Johnny," he whispers, both hands sliding down to John's hips. "I'm hungry. I need to taste you..."
"Oh fuck," John finds himself responding almost before he's thought about it. Simon is always pushing the boundaries about what John constitutes 'public' sex, and normally John would be pulling his lover inside the house, but not now, not when Simon has him under his spell and John knows exactly what's in store for him when Simon says he's 'hungry'. Bending over the chair he pushes his ass out.
Simon shuts his eyes and says prayer to whatever God it is that covers gay sex and beautiful men. John's body is so long and sleek and beautiful. The tattoos only add to it, the way they mimic and accentuate the curve of muscle and bone.
He drags a hand slowly down his back, fingers tracing his spine. Leaning over he places a soft kiss at the small of his back. Then another one lower, where his tail would be were he an animal. When he does he catches the strong scent of John, masculine and sensuous. "My beautiful Johnny," he whispers, kneeling down behind his lover.
His jeans are straining and it hurts the way they're cutting into his cock but he's easily distracted by the round curve of John's ass at eye level. He leans in, kissing the curve where John's butt touches his thigh, working slowly toward center with each tiny, wet kiss.
John's head has fallen forward, his arms crossed at the wrist, his forehead resting on them. His hands are screwed up tight into fists, his mouth slack. When Simon is doing this to him it's all John can manage to stay present. It's almost like Simon is worshipping his body. It's a mind blowing experience.
"Relax, babe..." Simon coos, nose brushing past John's crack as he begins working on the other thigh. His fingers stroke the back of his other leg. "My beautiful lover," he whispers, nose pressing into John's crack. He raises his head slowly, letting his lips follow into the dark crease.
"Ohgodohfuckohfuck," John is mumbling under his breath, his cock is achingly hard, he knows he must be dripping precum by now and he just knows his asshole is fluttering in anticipation. The nerve endings dancing - shooting sparks of fire along his limbs, up his spine. "doitpleasefuckmewithyourtonguefuckmeohj
He smiles, hands going up to part John's cheeks more fully. But he's gentle, soft. Difficult as that is to control. "Shhh," he whispers so the breathy word will breathe out right onto that quivering little muscle an inch from his mouth. He sticks his tongue out, drawing the flat of it up and over the dark, sour spot. Sour for a split second then oh so fucking sweet.
Simon's lips pucker and he sucks hard, pulling the lust engorged spot up, forcing it open with his tongue.
John is past words, no matter how incoherent they are, he's simply making noises, loud needy noises. He's learnt from past experience that to push back now would just fuck Simon off, so he fights hard to stay still, even as his legs tremble insanely. He leans more of his weight on the chair and finds he is panting with the effort. Such sweet pleasure, so lovingly given is making John spin away lost to Simon's touch.
He licks and sucks, savoring the flavor, the heat of his lover. His tongue darts in, tasting deep, curling against the crush of muscle. He draws one hand down, reaching between John's legs to cup his balls in a firm fingers.
His mouth moves off John's hole, down to suck the puckered skin he knows makes his lover lose control. He tugs his balls then lets go, reaching further to curl his hand around his cock. A hint of teeth, a thumb to replace his tongue and Simon latches onto the sensitive pad of nerves and sucks hard.
John's orgasm hits him hard, and suddenly. Rising up on his toes he cries out, his entire body shuddering with release, his cock pulsing cum over Simon's fingers, dripping down to the deck floor. When he starts to come down, he finds himself weak and shaking from the force of it. He knows Simon will catch him, he always does - in more ways than one. "Oh fuck," he gasps as he legs finally give out.
Simon pulls back in time to avoid having his neck broken. He even manages to roll to the side a little and more or less catch John so he's sitting on his lap when he comes down. He chuckles at his lover's spent and ridiculously satisfied look. Reaching up, it's come covered fingers he uses to push John's bangs from his face. To curl back around the back of his head and pull him close for a slow, gentle kiss.
"You like that, babe?" He asks teasingly, smiling at his lover. His lover who's musky sweet taste is still filling his mouth. Making his cock press more than painfully under John's weight against his jeans. It's all he can do not to wince.
"Huhhuh," John manages a mere nod and noise of assent. He curls into Simon's heat, nuzzles at his skin, once more he is struck by the scent of hard earned sweat. He swallows, clears his throat and tips his head back to look up. "You know that breaks me," he slurs.
"But you're so sexy broken," Simon chuckles softly, tracing John's lower lip with his finger. "God I love how you taste," he whispers, maybe to John and maybe not. His arms tighten around his lover and he leans them both back against the wall of the house. The sun's nearly down now, just a horribly gaudy splash of orange and purple at water's edge.
He leans his head down to rest against John's, sighing softly. The moment is so perfect, so unplanned and so perfect he's nearly forgotten his own hard on. No, what he has is better. "I love you, Johnny," he whispers softly into his lover's hair.
John smiles, safe, content and utterly happy. "Not as much as I love you," he retorts twisting his head to kiss what ever patch of skin is nearest. He closes his eyes again and lays still savouring this perfectly intimate moment.