FIC - It's Not Too Late - RPS - 1/3
Fandom: Torchwood RPS
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: John Barrowman/Gareth David-Lloyd/Scott Gill
Spoilers: None
Warnings: M/M/M, RPS, Non-celebrity partner involvement
Length: Chapter 1 of 3
Summary: This is the follow-up to my first TW RPS story, Trapped In Torchwood. It takes place roughly a month after that one finishes and we get caught up with what the boys have been doing.
Disclaimer: Torchwood belongs to RTD and the BBC, unfortunately. This is a work of fiction and lest we forget Fiction = False, Fake, Not Real (and any of those other handy dandy synonyms found in Webster’s big book.) No offense is meant to any of the parties represented.
Beta: Thanks bunches to cait_85 and shayasar for their correction of my awful tense swapping abilities and idea generation. Brilliant ladies. :D
A/N: I have no clue when the TWS2 wrap party took place and I am pretty sure that John/Scott attended together, but in my little world…things are a tad different. *chalks it up to creative license*
(Scott’s POV)
“It’s not too late for you to join me Scott.” John says, his voice coming out all optimistic over my Bluetooth.
Here we go, yet again. So many conversations similar to the one we are about to have have been played out over the years of our relationship. I sigh, knowing full well where this is headed, clinging to the tiniest amount of hope that maybe this time will be different and he will give up earlier than usual.
Plastering a smile to my face even though I know he cannot see it, I respond, “John, we’ve been over this already. You know how important this project is to me, I’ve got to see it through. My deadline is right around the corner and I still…”
“And I’m not important?”
Wow, he pulled that one out awful early this time.
“That’s not fair. Plus, it’s not what I said.” There are times when I think John’s mind just hears what it wants to hear. It’s not necessarily a bad thing considering the shear amount of projects he is involved in, the numerous demands on his time, the fans clamoring for his attention. Sometimes you have to tune things out. I just wish he would not do it with me, but instead, remember to turn off the public persona and show me the side of John that I love and cherish above all.
“I miss you, Scott.”
“I miss you as well and I’ll be there in a few days once I get this submitted to the client.” If I am lucky it will be done by the end of the week. All things in place, just the way the client wants. One of my best works, if I say so myself.
“But you’re not here now, nor will you be here in time for the party.”
“No,” I answer simply, reaching for a set of drawings on the other side of the table, hoping my response will bring this line of questioning to a close. Knowing deep down it’s hardly over. John’s just getting warmed up.
“I want you now. Your hair in my hands, your lips on mine, our bodies pressed together…”
Like I said, getting warmed up. In more ways than one.
Why doesn’t he understand how significant my career is to me? Just like his is to him. I am not going to give up all of the hard work I’ve put into this considerable design just to drive to Cardiff to shag my partner and attend the Torchwood Season Two Wrap Party.
Pushing the image John was creating out of my head and changing topics slightly, I ask, “Have you talked to Gareth today?”
“No, he’s still filming until later this evening. He and Naoko are the last ones on the call sheet.”
Damn, diversion by Welshman not likely.
“Are you going to see him later tonight?” Buoyancy thoroughly fills my question.
“I don’t know. Probably going to be a real late one, my last day was.”
I know it has been a few days since John has gotten any attention from our other companion. Gareth’s schedule had been pretty hectic with filming coming to a close. John’s however ended almost a week ago now, one of the perks of being the star, I guess. Shorter schedules. More time to do other projects, of which John has a bunch coming up. The book, the album, the television shows. Plus a horde of other things I’m sure I’m not even aware of yet.
“Call him, John. I am sure he misses you too.” I miss him even though we spoke just last night and talk on almost a daily basis, just like John and I do. Gareth also sends me plenty of emails, checking up on me, making sure I am taking care of myself while away from the two of them. It’s actually kind of cute. Even though we’ve had sex together, we’re still only really getting to know each other on a personal level.
And considering it’s only been about a month since our first time as a threesome, I think we’ve come a long ways. It was in fact only on my last visit to Cardiff, a week ago, that I took Gareth for the first time. Every time the opportunity presented itself before, which honestly had not been that often, I balked. I couldn’t take that step. Sure, I’d allowed Gareth to go that route with me, but I hadn’t topped anyone but John in so long. It just took my brain a little while to connect the wires and get me over my hesitation bump. Still, it’s only happened the one time and I am not sure when I will cross that road again.
“Scott, are you listening to me?”
Um, that would be a negative. I can vaguely recall John’s voice murmuring something about bed, naked bodies, all night long, and something with his tongue. But, my thoughts have been drifting elsewhere. To someone else in reality.
“Yeah, just thinking…” I lie, feeling a tad guilty for zoning out on what John had been saying, but not wanting to admit to his already disheartened ego that I had been thinking of Gareth. If he had been talking about something serious however, I would have been completely attentive.
“If you are thinking the same thing I am, then I don’t blame you for spacing out. Like I was saying, Gareth is not you. I want you doing those things to me. Over and over.”
I can just see him sitting there on our couch, his Blackberry pressed to his ear, a full sexy grin on his lips. His hands are most likely somewhere in the vicinity of his groin, if not down his pants. The picture is not helping my resolve, which he knows is what will happen, it’s why he chooses words that will conjure such imagery in my brain.
Mustering my courage, while locking the visuals in the back of my head, I try to tell him again, “I’m sorry but I just can’t be there. This is important to me. We’ve talked about how vital it is to me to maintain my career.”
“I know. I really miss you right now though.”
Damn it. My statement really should have been the end of this. He’s not usually this persistent after I have said no more than once. Stop doing this to me. He knows better.
“No, you’re just horny.”
Low blow, Scott. Really low. I shut my mouth and wait for the snappy comeback which I fully expect to come my way.
John doesn’t respond except with a quiet pause. He’s hardly ever quiet. I’m the quiet one. Not good.
Maybe he really does just miss me? Maybe I am just overreacting because I haven’t been getting a whole lot of quality rest.
“John…?” My only response is the sound of his breathing.
“Talk to me…” Please.
“I am horny. I won’t lie. However, I am missing you so much. Where is the fucking crime in that?”
Great. Just great. The tone of his voice is now riding along a precarious line between slightly miffed and all out pissy. A dangerous game. Well, this row isn’t my fault. But, if he wants peeved, I can dish it out as well. It takes two, after all.
“I never said that. Stop putting words in my mouth.”
“Got to put something in there. About all I can manage since you are still in London.”
“Why the hell are we even arguing?” Both of our voices are raised by this point. Yep, totally crossed the line. Anger is slowly seeping out and tiny barriers forming between us with each word.
“Because you don’t want me!”
“There you go again, reading way too much into what I have said. You’re being childish about this.”
“You want childish, I can do childish…”
A beep sounds in my ear signaling that the line has gone dead. Glancing down at the phone lying on my desk, I can see it clearly displaying the word ‘disconnected.’
How dare he hang up on me! My god, he is acting like a spoiled little kid not getting his way. It’s just a damn party. We go to them all of the time. I’m partnered to a bloody social butterfly. Sometimes it just takes its toll on me.
You think it doesn’t do the same to him? He loves you. He needs you. And you are not going to be there.
It’s only a fucking party.
Do you really think your missing the party is what is bothering him?
He has Gareth.
Gareth is not you. He never will be. Sure, he occupies a special place in John’s heart, yours too now, but he will never be John’s home, his rock. That’s you, Scott. That’s your place. It always has been and forever will be.
I hate my conscience some days. I knew what I was getting into when I made that trip backstage that had me falling in love with an actor. John needs me to be the person he can truly reveal himself to. The person who experiences his world but doesn’t really live in it, the one who can be John’s safe haven to turn to at the end of the day. The man who will take him as he is once the persona of someone like Captain Jack Harkness is stripped away.
Knowing what needs to be done; I slip off my earpiece and grab my phone before padding over to the couch and settling down. As I hit speed dial and wait for my partner to pick up, I try to think of how to apologize. We can’t end our day like this. Not going to go down that road again.
The phone has barely connected and we are both speaking…
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry.”
He laughs softly before adding, “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m the prat who hung up on you over something stupid.”
“It’s not stupid. I’ll figure out some way to change my schedule. If I stay up late tonight, sleep an hour, maybe not at all, and go in early in the morning, I can probably get everything taken care of before I’d have to leave to make it to Cardiff.” Every problem has a solution. I will find one.
“I don’t want you doing that. Stay in London and finish up properly. I’m just being selfish and I pushed you more than I should have. I know better.”
“No, I can swing it. I’ll be…”
“Tired. And I know what you are like when you are tired. It’s not pretty.”
“But I want to be there with you.” You need me. I need you just as much, truth be told.
“No you don’t, I know how much you hate these social things and I’m okay with that. Really, I am. I was just being self-centered. I understand how much your work means to you, Scott. I don’t tell you often enough, but I am so amazed by what you can do. How talented my partner is. You make me so proud.”
I smile at his truly sincere statement. My love for the man growing by another leap. After all these years, he still surprises me.
“I can’t be there, but maybe I can help you with one of the large problems you are having at this moment. Why don’t you go into our bedroom and get comfy.”
“Scott, you don’t have to do this, get your work done. We can…”
“I want to. You’re not the only one who is missing his partner.”
John groans, deep in his throat, as he heads towards the bedroom. Damn, I love the noises he makes. The groan has sent my hand straight down my body, jeans coming undone, fingers sliding inside.
Smiling at the effect a simple sound has on me, I continue, “If you’d strip out of those ratty pajama pants and t-shirt that I know you have on and climb into our bed you’d make me a very happy man.”
I can hear the rustling of clothes and then sheets as John does as I asked. His breathing the only sound that remains.
“Now just lie back and enjoy. Let me take care of you.”
Shifting my position just slightly, to push my pants further down and to get a better hold of my dick, I close my eyes and try to picture myself in the flat with him. I can clearly see John’s frame stretched out under the covers, his body just waiting for me.
“God, you are so fucking hot. It doesn't take me long to be under the sheets with you, my naked body pressing up tightly to your side and our mouths fusing together. I can taste the tea you’ve been downing all afternoon; however it doesn't drown out the taste that is uniquely you. I want more of you.”
“I want you too, Scott. So fucking badly.”
His voice has hitched up a little with his comment. It normally does when he gets really excited.
“Letting my mouth trail down your strong chest, I leave a wet path from your neck to each of your nipples and then finish by heading south past your belly button. Your thighs spread readily apart for me and I quickly nip and then suck on the inside of each one.”
A soft sigh is my only reverberation. I knew it would be. He absolutely loves when I do anything to the insides of his legs, knees included.
“My hand encircles your growing cock and I pump my fist up and down a few times, to get your motor really running. And to make sure you are headed into high gear, I slide my warm mouth over the head of your dick a couple of times. Just real quick bobs, but enough to get you revved up.”
We don't have to be in the same room for me to know that John’s hand is working furiously between his legs while my words fill his ears.
“Do you want me to fuck you, John? Want me filling your tight ass?” Do I expect him to object? Hell no. Never has. Doubt he ever will.
“Yes! Fuck me, Scott. Please!”
I love it when he is so polite. Gets me every time.
“Slowly, I let my mouth make its way back up your toned body, slipping my hands beneath your knees and bending them up as well. Not bothering with lube, I suck on a couple of my fingers and let them slip inside your hole, flexing in and out.”
His hips will be bucking up right about now. Groans and slightly heavy breathing are being broadcast over the phone. Motivation for me.
“Just give me your dick, Scott. Now!” John growls.
I said he was polite. Not patient.
“Doing what you asked for, I place my body over yours and ram my cock straight into your ass, taking up every available inch. Within moments our pace is frenzied. My hips rock repeatedly into yours. Skin slapping against skin.”
The movements of my hand represent well the image I have of my body fucking John’s. Orgasm is going to be coming soon. No pun intended, it’s just been too long since we’ve been together. Well, too long for us anyways. We’re not normal in those regards.
John isn’t far off in coming either which he confirms with a cry of, “Shit! I'm gonna...”
“With one of my hands, I close it around your hard dick, pumping you. Let go, John. Give it to me.”
“Yeah, Scott! Oh, yeah!”
A grunt and then a groan come pouring forth on John’s end, as I am sure does the cum and is starting to...
“Fuck, John!”
Streams of milky white liquid shoot up my chest all over my polo shirt and down over my still jerking fingers. Loud breathing is all I can manage while the peaks of pleasure course through my throbbing body.
Simply lying on the couch, I listen for John’s breathing returning to normal and the sounds of him rolling onto his stomach. He always turns to his stomach once he is fully relaxed.
“I love you,” I whisper, but with enough force behind the words for John to hear my meaning.
“I know.”
Unable to suppress a tiny laugh I ask, “Don’t tell me, you were watching Star Wars again last night?”
“What?”
“You always respond with ‘I know’ after you’ve watched one of them.”
“Well…umm…no,” he mutters.
Actually I would classify what he does as squeaking. He is so busted.
“You did! I thought we agreed you were cut off for a while. It’s really not healthy for someone your age to be that obsessed with Han Solo.”
“They are good movies!”
I agree. But, I find it amusing that John loves them so much.
“Sure, sure. You just like staring at Harrison Ford in those tight black trousers.”
“Alright, I confess. You got me. Guess I will need to be punished when you get here.”
“I’ll get Gareth to help.”
“I love the sound of that. Looking forward to it. And now, as much as I hate to say goodbye, I guess I better let you go or I won’t be having anything to look forward to anytime soon.”
“Call me tomorrow before the party. I’d say call me after, but I fully expect you to have your hands full of our beautiful Welshman.”
John laughs and we exchange goodbyes before I turned my attention towards the mess I have made of my clothing. Best get cleaned up and get back to work. I won’t be able to make Cardiff tomorrow night, but maybe if I work a little harder, I can get there a day earlier than I originally planned, a day earlier than John and Gareth are expecting me.
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: John Barrowman/Gareth David-Lloyd/Scott Gill
Spoilers: None
Warnings: M/M/M, RPS, Non-celebrity partner involvement
Length: Chapter 1 of 3
Summary: This is the follow-up to my first TW RPS story, Trapped In Torchwood. It takes place roughly a month after that one finishes and we get caught up with what the boys have been doing.
Disclaimer: Torchwood belongs to RTD and the BBC, unfortunately. This is a work of fiction and lest we forget Fiction = False, Fake, Not Real (and any of those other handy dandy synonyms found in Webster’s big book.) No offense is meant to any of the parties represented.
Beta: Thanks bunches to cait_85 and shayasar for their correction of my awful tense swapping abilities and idea generation. Brilliant ladies. :D
A/N: I have no clue when the TWS2 wrap party took place and I am pretty sure that John/Scott attended together, but in my little world…things are a tad different. *chalks it up to creative license*
(Scott’s POV)
“It’s not too late for you to join me Scott.” John says, his voice coming out all optimistic over my Bluetooth.
Here we go, yet again. So many conversations similar to the one we are about to have have been played out over the years of our relationship. I sigh, knowing full well where this is headed, clinging to the tiniest amount of hope that maybe this time will be different and he will give up earlier than usual.
Plastering a smile to my face even though I know he cannot see it, I respond, “John, we’ve been over this already. You know how important this project is to me, I’ve got to see it through. My deadline is right around the corner and I still…”
“And I’m not important?”
Wow, he pulled that one out awful early this time.
“That’s not fair. Plus, it’s not what I said.” There are times when I think John’s mind just hears what it wants to hear. It’s not necessarily a bad thing considering the shear amount of projects he is involved in, the numerous demands on his time, the fans clamoring for his attention. Sometimes you have to tune things out. I just wish he would not do it with me, but instead, remember to turn off the public persona and show me the side of John that I love and cherish above all.
“I miss you, Scott.”
“I miss you as well and I’ll be there in a few days once I get this submitted to the client.” If I am lucky it will be done by the end of the week. All things in place, just the way the client wants. One of my best works, if I say so myself.
“But you’re not here now, nor will you be here in time for the party.”
“No,” I answer simply, reaching for a set of drawings on the other side of the table, hoping my response will bring this line of questioning to a close. Knowing deep down it’s hardly over. John’s just getting warmed up.
“I want you now. Your hair in my hands, your lips on mine, our bodies pressed together…”
Like I said, getting warmed up. In more ways than one.
Why doesn’t he understand how significant my career is to me? Just like his is to him. I am not going to give up all of the hard work I’ve put into this considerable design just to drive to Cardiff to shag my partner and attend the Torchwood Season Two Wrap Party.
Pushing the image John was creating out of my head and changing topics slightly, I ask, “Have you talked to Gareth today?”
“No, he’s still filming until later this evening. He and Naoko are the last ones on the call sheet.”
Damn, diversion by Welshman not likely.
“Are you going to see him later tonight?” Buoyancy thoroughly fills my question.
“I don’t know. Probably going to be a real late one, my last day was.”
I know it has been a few days since John has gotten any attention from our other companion. Gareth’s schedule had been pretty hectic with filming coming to a close. John’s however ended almost a week ago now, one of the perks of being the star, I guess. Shorter schedules. More time to do other projects, of which John has a bunch coming up. The book, the album, the television shows. Plus a horde of other things I’m sure I’m not even aware of yet.
“Call him, John. I am sure he misses you too.” I miss him even though we spoke just last night and talk on almost a daily basis, just like John and I do. Gareth also sends me plenty of emails, checking up on me, making sure I am taking care of myself while away from the two of them. It’s actually kind of cute. Even though we’ve had sex together, we’re still only really getting to know each other on a personal level.
And considering it’s only been about a month since our first time as a threesome, I think we’ve come a long ways. It was in fact only on my last visit to Cardiff, a week ago, that I took Gareth for the first time. Every time the opportunity presented itself before, which honestly had not been that often, I balked. I couldn’t take that step. Sure, I’d allowed Gareth to go that route with me, but I hadn’t topped anyone but John in so long. It just took my brain a little while to connect the wires and get me over my hesitation bump. Still, it’s only happened the one time and I am not sure when I will cross that road again.
“Scott, are you listening to me?”
Um, that would be a negative. I can vaguely recall John’s voice murmuring something about bed, naked bodies, all night long, and something with his tongue. But, my thoughts have been drifting elsewhere. To someone else in reality.
“Yeah, just thinking…” I lie, feeling a tad guilty for zoning out on what John had been saying, but not wanting to admit to his already disheartened ego that I had been thinking of Gareth. If he had been talking about something serious however, I would have been completely attentive.
“If you are thinking the same thing I am, then I don’t blame you for spacing out. Like I was saying, Gareth is not you. I want you doing those things to me. Over and over.”
I can just see him sitting there on our couch, his Blackberry pressed to his ear, a full sexy grin on his lips. His hands are most likely somewhere in the vicinity of his groin, if not down his pants. The picture is not helping my resolve, which he knows is what will happen, it’s why he chooses words that will conjure such imagery in my brain.
Mustering my courage, while locking the visuals in the back of my head, I try to tell him again, “I’m sorry but I just can’t be there. This is important to me. We’ve talked about how vital it is to me to maintain my career.”
“I know. I really miss you right now though.”
Damn it. My statement really should have been the end of this. He’s not usually this persistent after I have said no more than once. Stop doing this to me. He knows better.
“No, you’re just horny.”
Low blow, Scott. Really low. I shut my mouth and wait for the snappy comeback which I fully expect to come my way.
John doesn’t respond except with a quiet pause. He’s hardly ever quiet. I’m the quiet one. Not good.
Maybe he really does just miss me? Maybe I am just overreacting because I haven’t been getting a whole lot of quality rest.
“John…?” My only response is the sound of his breathing.
“Talk to me…” Please.
“I am horny. I won’t lie. However, I am missing you so much. Where is the fucking crime in that?”
Great. Just great. The tone of his voice is now riding along a precarious line between slightly miffed and all out pissy. A dangerous game. Well, this row isn’t my fault. But, if he wants peeved, I can dish it out as well. It takes two, after all.
“I never said that. Stop putting words in my mouth.”
“Got to put something in there. About all I can manage since you are still in London.”
“Why the hell are we even arguing?” Both of our voices are raised by this point. Yep, totally crossed the line. Anger is slowly seeping out and tiny barriers forming between us with each word.
“Because you don’t want me!”
“There you go again, reading way too much into what I have said. You’re being childish about this.”
“You want childish, I can do childish…”
A beep sounds in my ear signaling that the line has gone dead. Glancing down at the phone lying on my desk, I can see it clearly displaying the word ‘disconnected.’
How dare he hang up on me! My god, he is acting like a spoiled little kid not getting his way. It’s just a damn party. We go to them all of the time. I’m partnered to a bloody social butterfly. Sometimes it just takes its toll on me.
You think it doesn’t do the same to him? He loves you. He needs you. And you are not going to be there.
It’s only a fucking party.
Do you really think your missing the party is what is bothering him?
He has Gareth.
Gareth is not you. He never will be. Sure, he occupies a special place in John’s heart, yours too now, but he will never be John’s home, his rock. That’s you, Scott. That’s your place. It always has been and forever will be.
I hate my conscience some days. I knew what I was getting into when I made that trip backstage that had me falling in love with an actor. John needs me to be the person he can truly reveal himself to. The person who experiences his world but doesn’t really live in it, the one who can be John’s safe haven to turn to at the end of the day. The man who will take him as he is once the persona of someone like Captain Jack Harkness is stripped away.
Knowing what needs to be done; I slip off my earpiece and grab my phone before padding over to the couch and settling down. As I hit speed dial and wait for my partner to pick up, I try to think of how to apologize. We can’t end our day like this. Not going to go down that road again.
The phone has barely connected and we are both speaking…
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry.”
He laughs softly before adding, “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’m the prat who hung up on you over something stupid.”
“It’s not stupid. I’ll figure out some way to change my schedule. If I stay up late tonight, sleep an hour, maybe not at all, and go in early in the morning, I can probably get everything taken care of before I’d have to leave to make it to Cardiff.” Every problem has a solution. I will find one.
“I don’t want you doing that. Stay in London and finish up properly. I’m just being selfish and I pushed you more than I should have. I know better.”
“No, I can swing it. I’ll be…”
“Tired. And I know what you are like when you are tired. It’s not pretty.”
“But I want to be there with you.” You need me. I need you just as much, truth be told.
“No you don’t, I know how much you hate these social things and I’m okay with that. Really, I am. I was just being self-centered. I understand how much your work means to you, Scott. I don’t tell you often enough, but I am so amazed by what you can do. How talented my partner is. You make me so proud.”
I smile at his truly sincere statement. My love for the man growing by another leap. After all these years, he still surprises me.
“I can’t be there, but maybe I can help you with one of the large problems you are having at this moment. Why don’t you go into our bedroom and get comfy.”
“Scott, you don’t have to do this, get your work done. We can…”
“I want to. You’re not the only one who is missing his partner.”
John groans, deep in his throat, as he heads towards the bedroom. Damn, I love the noises he makes. The groan has sent my hand straight down my body, jeans coming undone, fingers sliding inside.
Smiling at the effect a simple sound has on me, I continue, “If you’d strip out of those ratty pajama pants and t-shirt that I know you have on and climb into our bed you’d make me a very happy man.”
I can hear the rustling of clothes and then sheets as John does as I asked. His breathing the only sound that remains.
“Now just lie back and enjoy. Let me take care of you.”
Shifting my position just slightly, to push my pants further down and to get a better hold of my dick, I close my eyes and try to picture myself in the flat with him. I can clearly see John’s frame stretched out under the covers, his body just waiting for me.
“God, you are so fucking hot. It doesn't take me long to be under the sheets with you, my naked body pressing up tightly to your side and our mouths fusing together. I can taste the tea you’ve been downing all afternoon; however it doesn't drown out the taste that is uniquely you. I want more of you.”
“I want you too, Scott. So fucking badly.”
His voice has hitched up a little with his comment. It normally does when he gets really excited.
“Letting my mouth trail down your strong chest, I leave a wet path from your neck to each of your nipples and then finish by heading south past your belly button. Your thighs spread readily apart for me and I quickly nip and then suck on the inside of each one.”
A soft sigh is my only reverberation. I knew it would be. He absolutely loves when I do anything to the insides of his legs, knees included.
“My hand encircles your growing cock and I pump my fist up and down a few times, to get your motor really running. And to make sure you are headed into high gear, I slide my warm mouth over the head of your dick a couple of times. Just real quick bobs, but enough to get you revved up.”
We don't have to be in the same room for me to know that John’s hand is working furiously between his legs while my words fill his ears.
“Do you want me to fuck you, John? Want me filling your tight ass?” Do I expect him to object? Hell no. Never has. Doubt he ever will.
“Yes! Fuck me, Scott. Please!”
I love it when he is so polite. Gets me every time.
“Slowly, I let my mouth make its way back up your toned body, slipping my hands beneath your knees and bending them up as well. Not bothering with lube, I suck on a couple of my fingers and let them slip inside your hole, flexing in and out.”
His hips will be bucking up right about now. Groans and slightly heavy breathing are being broadcast over the phone. Motivation for me.
“Just give me your dick, Scott. Now!” John growls.
I said he was polite. Not patient.
“Doing what you asked for, I place my body over yours and ram my cock straight into your ass, taking up every available inch. Within moments our pace is frenzied. My hips rock repeatedly into yours. Skin slapping against skin.”
The movements of my hand represent well the image I have of my body fucking John’s. Orgasm is going to be coming soon. No pun intended, it’s just been too long since we’ve been together. Well, too long for us anyways. We’re not normal in those regards.
John isn’t far off in coming either which he confirms with a cry of, “Shit! I'm gonna...”
“With one of my hands, I close it around your hard dick, pumping you. Let go, John. Give it to me.”
“Yeah, Scott! Oh, yeah!”
A grunt and then a groan come pouring forth on John’s end, as I am sure does the cum and is starting to...
“Fuck, John!”
Streams of milky white liquid shoot up my chest all over my polo shirt and down over my still jerking fingers. Loud breathing is all I can manage while the peaks of pleasure course through my throbbing body.
Simply lying on the couch, I listen for John’s breathing returning to normal and the sounds of him rolling onto his stomach. He always turns to his stomach once he is fully relaxed.
“I love you,” I whisper, but with enough force behind the words for John to hear my meaning.
“I know.”
Unable to suppress a tiny laugh I ask, “Don’t tell me, you were watching Star Wars again last night?”
“What?”
“You always respond with ‘I know’ after you’ve watched one of them.”
“Well…umm…no,” he mutters.
Actually I would classify what he does as squeaking. He is so busted.
“You did! I thought we agreed you were cut off for a while. It’s really not healthy for someone your age to be that obsessed with Han Solo.”
“They are good movies!”
I agree. But, I find it amusing that John loves them so much.
“Sure, sure. You just like staring at Harrison Ford in those tight black trousers.”
“Alright, I confess. You got me. Guess I will need to be punished when you get here.”
“I’ll get Gareth to help.”
“I love the sound of that. Looking forward to it. And now, as much as I hate to say goodbye, I guess I better let you go or I won’t be having anything to look forward to anytime soon.”
“Call me tomorrow before the party. I’d say call me after, but I fully expect you to have your hands full of our beautiful Welshman.”
John laughs and we exchange goodbyes before I turned my attention towards the mess I have made of my clothing. Best get cleaned up and get back to work. I won’t be able to make Cardiff tomorrow night, but maybe if I work a little harder, I can get there a day earlier than I originally planned, a day earlier than John and Gareth are expecting me.