Trick Hip
Dan reeked of cigarettes and booze, and he could barely stand on his own. He looked so much like the old Dan, it tugged at Jones's heart. No one was happier to see Dan living in a way that might allow him to see fifty than Jones, but he sometimes missed his old train-wreck flatmate. Taking care of Dan had made Jones feel useful. Now that Dan didn't need a buffer between him and Claire and could usually manage to get himself dressed and undressed on his own, Jones felt like he had a lot of time on his hands.
"What the fuck happened tonight?" Dan slurred. "Why the fuck were there celebrities at my party? Crap celebrities? And Nathan Barley?"
"And your pregnant daughter," Jones couldn't help but add.
Dan giggled hysterically. "What the fuck happened to my life? Claire is dating Nathan Barley, and I haven't jumped in front of a train."
"You're getting mellow in your old age," Jones sighed. "Do you want to take a nice beach holiday? Maybe you could take up gardening..."
Dan growled and tossed Jones on the bed.
"I'll show you old," Dan promised in a husky voice. "If my trick hip holds out..."
Dan slowly unbuttoned his shirt in a striptease that was supposed to be funny, but was actually pretty fucking hot.
"Christ, I love you, Dan."
Dan looked lost for a moment, but then he figured out where he needed to be: on top of Jones.
He was drunk enough to not be in any kind of hurry, despite having been hard since Dan had tried to mount him in the hallway. He ran his fingers through Dan's sweaty hair and licked his salty shoulder.
"Kinky," Dan teased.
"You have no idea how many times I wanted to do that, back in the day."
"Why didn't you?" Dan asked. He was too drunk to possibly remember Jones's answer if he gave one, or to appreciate the significance of his own question, so Jones let it go. In two years, Dan had never asked how Jones had felt about him before Dan had made his move. He must have known Jones was attracted from the beginning. Jones had no delusions about his ability to hide his feelings.
Jones simply moaned as Dan worked his way down his body and to his cock. Jones had been on the receiving end of plenty of blowjobs, but there was no one like Dan. Dan pussyfooted around so much in life, but he dove into a blowie like his life depended on it. When they'd begun their sexual relationship, Dan had been a little distant at times, too caught up in his own thoughts to fully let go. Now he could just throw Jones on the bed and deep throat his cock like he hadn't a care in the world.
He only paused his oral attack for a moment, to suck on his own fingers. Jones moaned before Dan even touched his arse.
It was hard to smirk with a mouthful of manhood, but Dan was looking distinctly smug.
Dan asked Jones what he was in the mood for, as though there could be any doubt. Dan's blowies were for quiet nights in (or semi-public places where they needed to be quick). When Dan was drunk and reeking of smoke, it was a night for bummin'. Anything else was a waste of Dan's sloppy and indifferent manliness. Dan had no idea why he was a dude magnet, and that was how it should be. Dan was at his best when he had no idea what he was doing right. The closest Jones had ever come to not feeling attracted to Dan had been when he was still at Sugar Ape and Jonatton Yeah? had found the perfect way to torture Dan: by making him take care of himself. The electric cigarette had been a good thing, but the spray tan... The spray tan managed to go back in time and squash the hard-on Jones had had the first time he'd laid eyes on Dan Ashcroft.
Considering Dan's level of inebriation, Jones wasn't going to push him to use a condom if he forgot. Dan had been checked out, and Jones was pretty certain Sasha was the kind of person who took care of her health, but Dan was still using johnnies until he had a follow-up and a full clean bill of health.
He was almost disappointed when Dan produced a foil packet. It must have shown, because Dan's face was suddenly forlorn.
Jones used his thumb to try and rub the worry lines out of Dan's forehead.
"Past is the past, right, Dan?"
Dan shook his head no.
"Not really," Dan mused. "I kind of liked the Alexander article..."
Jones shook his head in disbelief. Even for Dan, it was a mental statement. The Alexander article was a hatchet job, and it wasn't even well-written.
"It's an interesting narrative," Dan continued. "It gave me some ideas for a book."
That was more promising. Jones took the condom from Dan and ripped it open with his teeth as he encouraged Dan to keep talking.
"Erudite is giving me money to write a book. They don't really care what book. They just want me to write them a 'cool' book. I really am part of this bizarre Nathan Barley world."
"You're hovering above it," Jones amended.
"No, I'm on my knees, crawling through it. Alexander is right. If I looked different... Writers really aren't meant to be judged by their looks, are they? If I were uglier, I wouldn't have gotten where I did, and if I were better looking, I'd be..."
"You couldn't be better looking," Jones assured him, stroking his stubbled cheek. "You're beautiful."
"You're high," was Dan's not entirely inaccurate response.
"But you're still beautiful. Now stop yapping and fuck me."
Dan wiggled his eyebrows. "That's going in the book. Chapter one."
Jones managed to wrestle Dan onto the bed and straddled his waist.
"I always wanted to be someone's muse," Jones said as he lowered himself on Dan's latex-covered cock. It was true; he found inspiration in so many things. He liked to imagine himself inspiring someone else.
Dan Ashcroft, professional wordsmith, said, "Jesus fucking Christ. Fuck me."
"That's some inspiration, right there," Jones teased, trying not to let his eyes go all wonky as he took Dan's length. Dan always looked a bit surprised when they were having sex, like he was expecting someone else. Given that Dan had spent the first thirty-eight years of his life apparently heterosexual, maybe he was.
Later, when they were sweaty and breathless and ready to pass out, Dan stroked Jones's hair and kissed the top of his head. Maybe Dan was still a little surprised his lover had a dick, but most of the time, he seemed pretty chuffed about the arrangement.
"What the fuck happened tonight?" Dan slurred. "Why the fuck were there celebrities at my party? Crap celebrities? And Nathan Barley?"
"And your pregnant daughter," Jones couldn't help but add.
Dan giggled hysterically. "What the fuck happened to my life? Claire is dating Nathan Barley, and I haven't jumped in front of a train."
"You're getting mellow in your old age," Jones sighed. "Do you want to take a nice beach holiday? Maybe you could take up gardening..."
Dan growled and tossed Jones on the bed.
"I'll show you old," Dan promised in a husky voice. "If my trick hip holds out..."
Dan slowly unbuttoned his shirt in a striptease that was supposed to be funny, but was actually pretty fucking hot.
"Christ, I love you, Dan."
Dan looked lost for a moment, but then he figured out where he needed to be: on top of Jones.
He was drunk enough to not be in any kind of hurry, despite having been hard since Dan had tried to mount him in the hallway. He ran his fingers through Dan's sweaty hair and licked his salty shoulder.
"Kinky," Dan teased.
"You have no idea how many times I wanted to do that, back in the day."
"Why didn't you?" Dan asked. He was too drunk to possibly remember Jones's answer if he gave one, or to appreciate the significance of his own question, so Jones let it go. In two years, Dan had never asked how Jones had felt about him before Dan had made his move. He must have known Jones was attracted from the beginning. Jones had no delusions about his ability to hide his feelings.
Jones simply moaned as Dan worked his way down his body and to his cock. Jones had been on the receiving end of plenty of blowjobs, but there was no one like Dan. Dan pussyfooted around so much in life, but he dove into a blowie like his life depended on it. When they'd begun their sexual relationship, Dan had been a little distant at times, too caught up in his own thoughts to fully let go. Now he could just throw Jones on the bed and deep throat his cock like he hadn't a care in the world.
He only paused his oral attack for a moment, to suck on his own fingers. Jones moaned before Dan even touched his arse.
It was hard to smirk with a mouthful of manhood, but Dan was looking distinctly smug.
Dan asked Jones what he was in the mood for, as though there could be any doubt. Dan's blowies were for quiet nights in (or semi-public places where they needed to be quick). When Dan was drunk and reeking of smoke, it was a night for bummin'. Anything else was a waste of Dan's sloppy and indifferent manliness. Dan had no idea why he was a dude magnet, and that was how it should be. Dan was at his best when he had no idea what he was doing right. The closest Jones had ever come to not feeling attracted to Dan had been when he was still at Sugar Ape and Jonatton Yeah? had found the perfect way to torture Dan: by making him take care of himself. The electric cigarette had been a good thing, but the spray tan... The spray tan managed to go back in time and squash the hard-on Jones had had the first time he'd laid eyes on Dan Ashcroft.
Considering Dan's level of inebriation, Jones wasn't going to push him to use a condom if he forgot. Dan had been checked out, and Jones was pretty certain Sasha was the kind of person who took care of her health, but Dan was still using johnnies until he had a follow-up and a full clean bill of health.
He was almost disappointed when Dan produced a foil packet. It must have shown, because Dan's face was suddenly forlorn.
Jones used his thumb to try and rub the worry lines out of Dan's forehead.
"Past is the past, right, Dan?"
Dan shook his head no.
"Not really," Dan mused. "I kind of liked the Alexander article..."
Jones shook his head in disbelief. Even for Dan, it was a mental statement. The Alexander article was a hatchet job, and it wasn't even well-written.
"It's an interesting narrative," Dan continued. "It gave me some ideas for a book."
That was more promising. Jones took the condom from Dan and ripped it open with his teeth as he encouraged Dan to keep talking.
"Erudite is giving me money to write a book. They don't really care what book. They just want me to write them a 'cool' book. I really am part of this bizarre Nathan Barley world."
"You're hovering above it," Jones amended.
"No, I'm on my knees, crawling through it. Alexander is right. If I looked different... Writers really aren't meant to be judged by their looks, are they? If I were uglier, I wouldn't have gotten where I did, and if I were better looking, I'd be..."
"You couldn't be better looking," Jones assured him, stroking his stubbled cheek. "You're beautiful."
"You're high," was Dan's not entirely inaccurate response.
"But you're still beautiful. Now stop yapping and fuck me."
Dan wiggled his eyebrows. "That's going in the book. Chapter one."
Jones managed to wrestle Dan onto the bed and straddled his waist.
"I always wanted to be someone's muse," Jones said as he lowered himself on Dan's latex-covered cock. It was true; he found inspiration in so many things. He liked to imagine himself inspiring someone else.
Dan Ashcroft, professional wordsmith, said, "Jesus fucking Christ. Fuck me."
"That's some inspiration, right there," Jones teased, trying not to let his eyes go all wonky as he took Dan's length. Dan always looked a bit surprised when they were having sex, like he was expecting someone else. Given that Dan had spent the first thirty-eight years of his life apparently heterosexual, maybe he was.
Later, when they were sweaty and breathless and ready to pass out, Dan stroked Jones's hair and kissed the top of his head. Maybe Dan was still a little surprised his lover had a dick, but most of the time, he seemed pretty chuffed about the arrangement.