You Really Don't
You Really Don't
He wasn’t sure why it caught his attention the way it did, but some nights when they were together it was all he could do to not press his face up against the tight muscles of Eliot’s stomach and just kiss and lick and nip until there was nothing left in the world.
He leaned over his lover, watching the way Eliot’s hair fanned out over the pillow, his eyes heavy and lidded from sex and sleep and damn. John had just come in from the bathroom and hadn’t meant to wake him up, but then Eliot had pushed the covers down still in his half-sleep mode and John was faced with his favorite part of Eliot’s body. He was unable to resist.
Eliot smiled softly at him, “John, you know I’m gonna kick your ass if I don’t get any sleep tonight.”
John smiled. “Yeah. Best reason for a beating I’ve ever heard,” he said as he leaned over, his lips brushing across Eliot’s stomach.
Eliot moaned under him and John couldn’t help but smile into his skin. “Don’t think you really wanna kick my ass for it though.”
Eliot didn’t answer but his fingers tangled in John’s hair as he kissed Eliot’s hip. He made his way across his body, licking and kissing and biting, always mindful of what he was doing, always aware of just why this part of Eliot made him so damn turned on. He let his fingers trail lightly over Eliot’s belly and remembered the way it had swollen with Mary, the way he’d carried John’s child, his miracle child, his blessed baby girl.
Eliot let him lay there for a moment, body still and sleepy as John pressed sweet kisses to his skin, a thank you and a prayer for his baby.
But there was only so much patience a man like Eliot Spencer had, especially in his own bed with his lover. Eliot’s fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him upward and John went willingly. He opened to Eliot’s claiming kiss, deepening it and took control as he settled between his lover’s legs.
He slipped into his body easy as breathing, Eliot still loose and open from their earlier lovemaking and god he wanted nothing more than to do this forever. He’d loved his wife, mourned her for more time than he’d had her, but something in Eliot made him forget grief and reminded him to live, something he should have been able to do for his own boys’ years ago.
Eliot didn’t let him get away with shit and he called him on the things Dean overlooked. Eliot was every bit the match to John; his temper, his life, and his fire.
Eliot moaned under him as John found the right angle, hitting it time and time again until they were both tumbling over the edge together.
When he found his breath, he pulled out of Eliot and fell onto his back. Eliot turned to his side and stared at John for a few minutes before smiling.
“Kinky bastard,” Eliot teased.
John set his hand on Eliot’s stomach, felt the way it jumped under his touch, and smiled back. “Don’t hear you complaining.”
“Nope,” Eliot said as he leaned back and closed his eyes. “You really don’t.”
On to Alright By Me