Players not pups.
John steps out of the boat onto the harbour side and smooths out his black cotton pants, before pushing his glasses back up his nose. He takes a look around before turning to slip his arm through Simon's.
"Where shall we head to?" he asks with a smile.
"Where there's a good flow of beer," Simon grins, moving his arm so John's isn't through his and he can hold his lover's hand instead.
"You look amazing," he informs him. By total coincidence they are both wearing black pants. Simon's are linen though and baggier than John's. His shirt is blue instead of white and not open as far as his lover's is either. He smiles when he sees the soft hair through the V in John's shirt. He leans back to look at John's back, trying to see if he can see the ink through the thin shirt. Maybe. Just a little. If you're looking for it.
"What? Do I have stuff on my back?" John twists his head to see if there is lint or dust or something marring his white shirt. Simon's laugh has him pulling back. "You're just checking out my ass," he rolls his eyes and laughs.
"So if you're drinking you mean I have to get you back on board on my own?" John looks dubiously at the small boat they'd crossed over from.
"Damn, I wasn't but I should have," Simon grins back as they step up onto the sidewalk outside the marina. "Just think of all the ways you can take advantage of me," he adds, raising an eyebrow knowingly.
More laughter, "when did you ever stop me taking advantage of you, drunk or sober?" he retorts. He squeezes Simon's hand and lets himself be led along the small street. "what you in the mood for tonight?" he asks, meaning food. He's starving himself, not something that happens often, John figures it must be all the fresh air - and sex.
"I think the choices are sort of limited here," he nods at the few nearly identical cantinas along the main strip of the small town. "I don't think it matters much. These places always have the best food." His hand brushes over his belly as he says it, realizing how hungry he is. He bumps his hip against John's nodding to the side at one that has several small wooden tables outside. "How about there?" He asks.
"Perfect," John nods, reaching into his pocket to pull out his packet of cigarettes and his lighter. "Here," He holds out a chair for Simon, sweeping his hand over it indicating his lover should sit. John tucks the chair in as Simon sits before he settles next to him. "I could eat a horse tonight, and I'm in the mood for dessert, lots of..." he taps out a smoke and lights up.
"Lots of?" Simon asks, raising an eyebrow and reaching to take the smoke from John's lips.
"Sugar," John gives Simon a look, part seductive, part teasing. He exhales and waits until Simon has taken a long draw before reclaiming his cigarette.
"Well, you," he pauses looking up at the young woman approaching. His Spanish is poor, but so is her English and between the two of them they manage to convey beer, bottled water and what Simon hopes she figured out was pico and something to dip into it. She'd left behind a single hand written sheet in Spanish with what passed for the menu.
Shaking his head he looks back to John. "You may be limited on dessert here," he warns him, handing over the Spanish menu.
John scans the sheet, identifies a couple of words he knows, indicating the dish is fish based. "There's always your stash back on board," he points out pushing the paper back at Simon. "but right now, so long as it's non meat I'll eat it,"
Simon stops himself from rolling his eyes, barely. "What makes you think I have any sort of stash back on board, hm?" Aside from the fact that they've been at sea for two days and Simon hasn't had sugar withdrawl yet.
"The cookies... from yesterday... I know they won't have been a solo purchase," John points out tapping ash into the small tin ashtray and offering his smoke to Simon. "you think you have any secrets from me?"
Simon takes the smoke back and glances down at the table, a blush working it's way fast up the back of his neck. "Nope," he assures his lover. "Not a thing and yes...I'll give you a nice spread for dessert later," he adds, holding the cigarette back out to John as he exhales slowly.
Exactly as Simon intended, John has a sudden mental image of his lover splayed out on their bed, baring his ass for John to admire...and fuck.
"Bastard," he murmurs, taking his smoke. Despite himself, since they've been away it's been Simon topping at every turn, usually they have a fair share of turn about, but not now, each time John feels like he wants to take over and penetrate his lover he's changed his mind at the last moment. So far Simon has said nothing.
"You say that now," Simon's voice drops low and he leans a little closer to John. "But you'll call me something else when I'm riding your cock later," he lets a hand drift out and over John's crotch, almost, discreetly.
He crushes out his cigarette before turning to look at Simon. His skin is heating, his cock stirring at the brief caress.
"Is that what you want?" he asks softly, wanting to lean in to kiss his lover, but very aware they can't be quite so obvious here.
Simon turns his head slightly, offering his cheek to John instead of his lips. "I always want your cock babe," he assures him.
John merely nods his head and brushes his lips over Simon's cheekbone, then he pulls back as their waitress appears with their drinks.
As she's putting down their drinks, Simon fidgets. He picks at the edge of a cardboard coaster on the table and tries to keep his eyes away from John's crotch where his lightweight pants hide nothing. When she finally leaves, he turns back to John. "Maybe we should have just gone to the club for vacation, huh?" He teases, cocking an eyebrow and his chin down.
John smirks at Simon. "Nah," he picks up his water. "I want you all to myself for a bit...don't want you being distracted by a cute ass, you know how you get," He sips his water and reaches down to rearrange the folds of fabric in his lap.
"Don't do that, I wanna see it." His eyes are on John's hands but he's grinning. "How I get?" He asks with mock annoyance.
"I distinctly remember getting ditched one night when you went off after some little piece in leather shorts and not much else," John lights up another smoke, pushing the packet and lighter out of Simon's reach. "Not that I could have blamed you," he adds with a soft laugh.
Simon grins. "If I remember correctly," he says, pausing for a long pull from his beer. "You more than made up for being 'ditched' by securing not two but three boys..." He remembers the night vividly. Mainly because it was the turning point. The time they both realized what they'd been denying for years. It was after they'd played with others. Laying worn out and exhausted in a bed in a room at the Establishment that John's suggestion had led them to where they are now. Open. Honest. Perfect.
************The Night that Changed it All**********
Simon pours himself a very weak vodka tonic. He's exhausted after his play with the cute boy in tight shorts. The knock at the door, he knows, is John. Finished with his play for the night.
They'd agreed, when they parted ways, to meet back here when they were done. And now, as the sun starts up in the sky, Simon opens the door to his friend and lover. "Hey there, was beginning to think you'd decided to stay the night where you were." He shuts the door behind John and walks back to the bed, setting his drink down before collapsing back into it with a satisfied sigh.
John's shrugging out of his shirt before the door is shut. He tosses it on a nearby chair, kicks off his shoes and joins Simon on the bed. "Nah, I cut and run soon as I could, my fucking head's buzzing, couldn't cope with the boys," He scrubs at his face with his hands before turning to Simon.
"You drinking?" his gaze flicks at the glass.
"Barely," Simon answers, handing over the weak drink. "I need fucking sleep. I should never have let you talk me into doing those lines...boys? Plural? Did you find two boys to play with Johnny?" Simon grins.
John drains the glass, belches and grins. "Three, darling, three," he discards the empty glass. "I got some pills if you wanna come down," he lifts his hips and reaches into his pockets for his wallet. "Some more shit back home depending what you want,"
"Christ, you make me look like a fucking priest," Simon answers, snatching the glass back and rolling off the bed to go refill it. "I don't want to go home and I don't want anymore of your pharmaceuticals either," he tells him. "What I do want," he pauses, lighting a cigarette and pouring them each another weak drink. He carries them back to the bed and lays down beside John, almost but not quite touching. "Is a bedtime story....tell me about your boys Johnny." He hands the cigarette up to his friend, fingers brushing John's lips lightly.
John takes the smoke, inhales deeply, smiling around the filter. "Not sure how I got three, I found the two chattering in a corner, there was a third by the time we got to the room. I got 'em all naked, had them suck each other off in a circle while I got myself topped up and picked out some toys." He blows out the smoke and coughs. "Two of them held the prettiest down while I beat him, til he cried, fuck me I love it when they cry like that,"
Simon rolls around, trying to pull the covers up over him against the chill brought on by coming down from sex and drugs. "God John," he smiles squirming back down and finding a comfortable spot before reaching to take the smoke back. "You do make me look like a priest. I just tied mine up, tickled the hell out of him until he'd pissed himself then did him while he was still wet and tied to the spreader bar." He exhales smoke, more successfully than John. "The first two times."
With the cigarette caught between his teeth John reaches down to undo his pants, and push them off his hips.
"You're not like any fucking priest I know," he snorts kicking his trousers off the edge of the bed and catching his smoke before it tumbles out of his mouth. He flicks ash from his chest.
"Once that was done I got them to spit roast the cry baby while I watched," he adds with a smug tone. "I do love fucking them, but directing has it's own kick,"
"Control freak," Simon grins, watching John undress. He's always loved the look of his friend's body. Even when he's at his skinniest, like he is now, he's still sexy. "Hang on... Turn, did you get another tattoo on your back?" He asks, pushing up on John's shoulder to roll him away from him. Sure enough there's a second patch of ink on John's back.
"Don't touch it," John warns as he rolls over to let Simon see. "Fucking itchy man," He kicks up the covers and wriggles his legs under them. "The only fucking downside of getting ink is having to lay off the booze for a day, makes me bleed like a stuck pig if I don't," he closes his eyes as Simon's fingers slip along his spine.
"So, you fucked your boy, I got off with my three, where's that leave us Charlie?" He asks matter of fact. They've been fucking for a couple of years now, a relationship as fluid as it is unconventional. It'd taken John years to get Simon in his bed, he guesses they need to take things up a step.
"Leaves us as each others sloppy seconds," Simon answers with a weak chuckle, reaching down to smack John's butt lightly. "Or in my case, fourths...." He leans in and kisses the back of John's neck, keeping his face against his warm skin and just smelling him, touching and not moving. Sometimes he wishes it was just them. But there's too much they can't, or won't, do to each other. Too many hungers they have to address somewhere else.
He closes his eyes a moment, to savour the feel of warm breath on his neck. "Does that bother you?" he asks softly, reaching behind him to pull one of Simon's hands over his hip to press it to the hollow of his belly.
Careful of the fresh spot on John's back, Simon curls closer to him. This is what's important. That they have these times, this honesty, this moment to come down together and he tells John as much.
John drops the half smoked cigarette into his glass and resettles. "You know you're the only man I've ever loved don't you?" His voice is barely a whisper, John is not so good with this emotional shit, but with Simon he has to let the other man know how he feels.
"You've mentioned it, yeah," Simon tells him him, smiling against John's neck. He can feel his lover's pulse pounding against his lips and some dim part of his brain tells him when John's laying still, his heart should not be beating that fast.
But he ignores it and shifts to roll John onto his back so he can see into the those dark, warm eyes. "I love you too, my Johnny. Think I always did. Even when you were that skinny kid with bad hair and worse eye wear," he teases, holding himself just over John.
Reaching up, and ignoring the shaking of is hand, John smooths his hand over Simon's hair. "Is it time we quit dicking around then? bought a place together like we keep talking about?"
At the moment they live in each others place, it's chaotic and far from ideal.
Simon's eyebrows go up. They'd half joked for a few years now that they ought to consolidate into one place. But Simon had never given it any serious thought and he figured John hadn't either. But something in the tone of his lover's voice now tells him he had. Very serious thought.
Even though he loves the idea of waking up by John on most mornings, there are other considerations that make him hesitate. They've both always had extra-curricular play and lots of it. It's never been a secret, or a problem, but if they were living together, for real living together...
There's hesitation where John hadn't expected any. His brow creases. "Simon?" he asks, cupping his lovers face, his thumb stroking over his cheek bone. "did...was I wrong?"
Simon shivers, turning his face into John's touch. "No babe," he promises. "I just...you really want that? Just us?" He wonders if John would expect that it would be just them.
"I want us to have a home together," John elaborates, "I'm not asking you to be monogamous, that won't suit either of us, but a space that's ours, just ours, you and me."
While it sounds great, there would have to be some sort of ground rules. Understandings. And suddenly, Simon wants that more than he can say. "How would it work?" He asks, sliding back onto his side, curled against John
"However we want, however is best for us," John wraps his arm around Simon's shoulder. "I guess I'd rather not have anyone else in our own bed, but we can sort all that shit out," Can't we?
A place for them with a bed just for them? That sounds....good actually. "So a separate play room?" He suggests. "Realistically, we'll both be picking up tricks now and then and we know it...lets not pretend otherwise." His fingers stroke lightly on the soft, hair on John's chest.
John manages a half shrug. "We have this place," he waves his hand around indicating the club. "or their place, or a hotel, we have options," he finishes. He hasn't had a real home for a long while, somewhere he felt comfortable and safe. Home.
Simon's fingers play thoughtfully on John's chest for a few long minutes. His lover's body is warm and firm against him. "Johnny," he says finally, hand laying still and flat on John's chest. "We can't be naive. I don't want proximity ruin a good thing."
He stiffens at Simon's words. John had thought this was the next natural step, not something they would have to negotiate, dissect and analyse. "Why would it Simon? We've lived together on tours, whilst recording, we are at each others place all the damned time. Or is there more to this?" he asks carefully.
Simon licks his lips. "Johnny, if we do that...if we make our lives together officially?" He looks up at his beautiful, sexy lover. The man he fell in love with so many years ago and denied himself from for far too long. "It's more. For me. It's not just us crashing after a gig or after hitting a club or whatever. It's...commitment." And it's more than I've given anyone in a very long time.
"I know that," John says softly. "that's what I thought I was offering,"
Simon forces back a yawn. He's exhausted, but this is more important than sleeping. He sits up, reaching across John for a cigarette. "I know you are, babe. And I love it, love you. But," he pauses to light and then runs a hand over his face. He can't help but think of his marriage. Granted it was to a woman and there were more issues than who Simon wanted to sleep with and when but still...he'd loved Yaz when they'd met.
"Why does there have to be a 'but'?" John pushes up to lean back on the head board. "Jesus fuck Simon, we've been doing this," he flings a hand out to indicate them both, "for four fucking years now, without it moving on, without me asking for any more from you," Simon had Yasmin for all those years, while he'd sat on the sideline, watching them, wanting that, wanting Simon.
"Because I love you," Simon tells him, his voice mimicking the slight edge that John's has taken on. "Because I love us. Because I know I don't wanna fuck it up!" He exhales and flicks his ashes.
"Fine," John shakes his head, he's coming down now and he's gonna crash if this goes on. He needs sleep.
"Well, I'm ready to move on, to take this up a step. Let me know when you are," he scoots back down the bed and rolls onto his side.
He watches John, tamping down growing annoyance as he realizes John's edging off his high.
Been there, done that.
"Ok," Simon nods, scooting back to his side of the bed. He leans against the headboard, crossing his legs at the ankle and reaching to flick off the light by the bed. They'll talk later. John coming down is not the time to have this discussion. "I love you, Johnny," he tells him, reaching a hand over to run over John's hair as he stares toward the window, smoke curling slowly around them.
"I still have no fucking clue why you were being so awkward that night," John shakes his head, gulping back his water.
It'd been months later they finally bought the house, but by then John's coke addiction had spiralled way out of what little control he had left on it.
"I wasn't," Simon tells him, taking a sip of his beer. "You were high, coming down actually, and I didn't feel like fighting coke for your attention," he shrugs. There's no hard feelings there. Any anger Simon may have felt toward John had long ago dissipated.
There's nothing to say to that, it's the truth, and he and Simon has laid to rest all their respective issues with regard to John's addictions years ago. It had been Simon who has been with him every painful step.
"The last few years have been my happiest, you know that?" he says reaching out to take Simon's hand.
"Mine too, Johnny," Simon answers without even a hint of hesitation. He squeezes John's fingers in his. "I guess we made the right decision, all those years ago?"
"So for fuck sake marry me!" John laughs, bringing Simon's hand up to kiss the back of it, he winks over their joined fingers to show he's teasing.
"When we get back I have a couple of weeks of stuff I need to sort out, then I'll make some more time for us... lets go on holiday, a pack our bags and see where the road takes us?"
"Just because you were right then..." Simon shakes a finger at John, smiling back. "Where you want to go? You've been to all the good place lately...left me at home," he adds with a mock pout.
"We haven't been home, UK home for ages, not for some down time anyways," John crushes out his smoke and drains his bottle of water. "we could go and see the families then up to Scotland for a week,"
"Mmmm...maybe play in the club up there?" Simon asks, enthusiastic about the idea even if they don't go to the Est in Scotland.
John rolls his eyes and laughs, "You have sex on the brain!" he teases. "Yes we can go to the club there if you like, but I thought a chilled out break with some stunning scenery, fresh air and good old British weather would be a change to our usual tropical breaks,"
Simon has to admit that John has a point. They do always seem to head out to islands, the ocean, anywhere but "home". And what's more, it dawns on him most of the vacations are to spots he, Simon, prefers...not usually John's first choice. "Babe, if you want to go sit in the hills and watch the clouds roll over, we'll do it," he promises, reaching for John's hand again.
"Have I thanked you lately?" He asks, his voice serious as he turns John's hand over lightly in his.
He watches Simon's fingers dance over his palm, his forehead creasing a little in confusion. "What for?" he chews on his bottom lip, his eyes centred on Simon's face.
"For putting up with me," Simon grins
John smiles at that. "Trust me darling, it really is no chore," he laughs.
"No, Johnny, I mean it," Simon answers seriously. He knows he's stubborn. Has a selfish streak and sometimes can't take no for an answer. "You take trips where I want to go, you," he chuckles slightly, "are ready whenever I am..." He raises an eyebrow at him, or tries to but unlike John, Simon hasn't mastered that art and both go up, giving him the look of a drunken owl.
His fingers curl around Simon's and he drops his gaze. "Simon, I waited for you for years, and then when I got you I put you through four years of hell before I got sober and we started having a real life together, so having to put up with your dreadful wardrobe choices, your inability to be on time and your single mindedness really is not a problem." Not caring where they are he brings Simon's hand to his mouth to brush his lips over it.
"Hey," Simon protests with a chuckle, his hand turn, fingers brushing John's full lips then slipping under his chin, holding it. "Who said anything about poor wardrobe choices?" He grins.
"I did," John says firmly. He can't count the times he's had to return items Simon's bought for himself unaccompanied, replacing them with something that not only John likes, but will compliment his lovers colour and body.
He gives John's chin a squeeze then leans forward and kisses him lightly, unable to resist. "Fine," he says, sitting back and his face growing more serious again. "But I do mean it. We go where I want, a lot of the time and I have a tendency to forget to clear plans with you and just...tell you what we're doing. So you're right. Next time? It's wherever you want to go, whatever you want to do." He nods.
"So a trip back to the UK then, and you'll accompany me to Milan for fashion week?" he asks slyly. Simon has always tried to duck out of the fashion events and John has never been one to push it, instead he goes on on his own or takes a female friend as his 'date'.
The swallow of beer catches in his throat and shoots John a quick glance. "Sure, yes...OK. I haven't been to Italy in ages," he says, smiling at John. I hate fashion week.
John laughs again, Simon's face is priceless. "That was very gracious of you, I don't expect you to come to everything, just a couple of key events, okay?" He looks up at the waitress approaches with their food. "and I'll make it worth your while," he adds with a wink.
Simon grins and looks down at the plate that's set in front of him. "You always have, Johnny," he promises, nodding that yes he would like another beer. He takes a bite of his dish, eyes rolling. "See," he tells John, waving a fork his lover's direction. "You can't get food like this in England..."
"Oh don't get me started on that shit," John picks up his own cutlery and pokes at his food. "how much stuff do we still get sent over or I get from that store that sells UK brands?"
He opens his mouth and tastes his food, it's good, very good. "Mmmm, s'good," he nods, "but I bet their Yorkshire Puddings suck,"