john_ny_taylor

 

John watches the boats go by, a small smile playing on his face, Simon had been so excited about this this morning he'd been up and about way before John was ready to emerge from their very comfortable bed.  A long shower, good breakfast, coffee and a smoke had put John back on track and now he's almost as excited as Simon to see the boat.

 

"That's it," Simon says suddenly, turning the car into a parking space along the dock.  He takes the keys out and turns to John.  "Okay, now...maybe this is the time to tell you she's not erm, seaworthy. You know, at the moment.  She's at dock for repairs and the owner is simply out of money and time and wants to sell."  Simon gives John a rather goofy but hopeful grin.  "So you know...don't take it at face value when you see her," he warns. 

 

John rolls his eyes. "We have more money than we can spend and you want to buy a boat that needs work!" He shakes his head laughing. "Well I guess it'll keep you busy and out of trouble for a while huh?" Climbing out of the car John shoves his sunglasses in place and waits for Simon to lead the way.

 

"Turn around,"  Simon says, coming from his side of the car and wrapping an arm around John's shoulder.  He points his lover toward a towering, formidable, tarp covered, partially rotten-looking seemingly pile of shit. 

 

John gapes, "You have to be fucking kidding me?" he turns to Simon in shock.  "Simon there is no fucking way I'm letting you buy that!" John points his finger accusingly at the boat.  "Jesus fuck have you lost your fucking mind while I've been gone?"

 

Simon laughs, reaching out and grabbing John's pointing hand. "No babe, I haven't.  I promise."  He kisses his fingers, grins bigger.  "John, it's a classic," he explains, putting himself between his lover and the boat.  "All wood hull, all brass...made right the artistry is phenomenal."

He turns, tucking John's hand into the crook of his arm, starting them forward.  "They don't make boats like this anymore...well they do but they're fucking expensive, not that we couldn't buy expensive but.." 

They stop a few feet away but under the shadow of the tarp draped boat.  "See, it just needs to be restored," he tells him, pointing to the peeling pain, the corroded fittings at the stern.  "But the bones, they're good."  He grins at his lover, brushing a finger lightly over John's cheekbone.  "Like you..." he bats his eyes at him, cheeks pink with excitement.

John's not sure how much of that comment is aimed at the 'restored' as much as the 'bones'.  Simon has stood beside John through more than one bout of rehab to kick his drink and coke problem, thankfully that's in their past now.  He quirks a brow, reads the almost childish glee in his lovers face and sighs. "Okay, okay, if this is what you want," he concedes trying his head to look up at the boat, trying - and almost succeeding - in looking at it with fresh eyes.

 

Simon pumps his fist once in an absurd gesture of 'yes!'.  "God John, you'll see!  It'll be beautiful when it's done," he tells him, giving his ass a slap and a quick tug on his arm. 

"See look, it's wood.  Solid, all wood." He reaches as high as he can on the keel and runs a hand almost reverently over the peeling surface.  "And the inside is too.  All teak and mahogany.  There's a state room at the front.  Bed's not huge but it's big enough."  He turns, leaning back against the boat's keel.  He crosses his ankles and smiles at John, already picturing his lover relaxing back in the cockpit, one long leg stretched out with his foot on the wheel.

"I thought boats generally were made of wood," John drawls dryly, but he can't not fail to grin back at his lover, his enthusiasm catching. He steps up and cups Simon's face.  "How can I refuse you when it makes you this happy?" he asks before kissing Simon thoroughly.

 

Simon's head thunks back softly against the hull of the boat, eyes half shut.  Utterly melted from the kiss. "You can't," he answers with a soft chuckle.  He licks his lips, tasting John.  "Thank God." 

He pushes away from the boat, slipping an arm around John's waist.  "But you're gonna have to take me to dinner if you're gonna get into my pants," he informs him just as his stomach rumbles softly.

John throws back his head and laughs. "You have always been notoriously easy to get out of your pants!" he accuses, turning to nuzzles at Simon's hair. "I could offer to fuck you over the car right now and you'd be considering it!"

 

"Mmm..." Simon moves to the side, holding onto John in an almost dance as he circles them back toward the car.  "So would you," he teases, pressing his thigh against John's crotch.

"Something for the club huh?" John quirks a brow at his lover and laughs. "But yes I'll buy you lunch, where do you want to go?" 

 

"We could go to the club," Simon answers back, returning John's look.  "Maybe get one of those private rooms you like so much..." he teases. "Let me show you just how much I appreciate you understanding about the boat?"

 

John stops the almost dance and slides his hand around Simon's neck, his grip too tight to be tender.  His eyes have darkened and skin has flushed.  "I think  that would be a very good idea," he murmurs.  It's been a while since they played that way, indulging their less vanilla sexual urges with younger more disposable playmates.

 

Simon swallows, feeling the weight of John's hand around his throat as he does.  There's a buzz in the back of his head that only <i>that look</i> from John gives him.  He'd nod if the grip didn't prevent it.  "Now," he adds.  Not quite a question and not quite a command. 

 

John merely gives a brief nod before he pulls Simon close and kisses that oh-so-kissable mouth. Then he lets go, stepping back and holding his hand out for the car keys.  "Give me the keys, I'm driving,"

 

 A smile quirks his lip, the irony of the command doesn't even need comment.  He simply digs the set from his pocket and drops them into John's hand.