FIC: Tequila Sunrise (1/1) NC-17 Brothers & Sisters
TITLE: Tequila Sunrise
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Kevin/John (OMC)
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: Just another lonely boy in town
DISCLAIMER: Brothers & Sisters and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to inlovewithnight for the beta (and for, you know, creating the OMC). For the One Night Stand Challenge
John’s been drinking more than he should, but he figures it’s required - he’s at a frat party, he’s a frat brother, and this is the last night he does this before he drops out of school and hits the road with Layla and her band, because anything has to be better than this.
Not that he won’t miss a few things that school provides, but he’s pretty sure that hot girls willing to have sex with him are just as likely to be hanging around in dark clubs and dirty honkytonks. So really the only thing he’s likely to miss is Kevin. Not that they’ve hung around much since high school - since Kevin came out - since Kevin put distance he doesn’t want to talk about between them, and John isn’t sure how to bridge it. He thinks it might be because he’s a straight frat boy - he and Kevin should be laughing about that - or maybe it’s simply because he’s straight.
Or maybe it has something to do with the way Kevin’s looking at him right now.
He’s surprised Kevin came to the party, but Kevin’s the only one likely to believe he’d drop all this assumed power and prestige for watered-down beers and broken-down buses and pick-up trucks. John’s kept his distance, because Kevin has, and John doesn’t want to pressure him. Kevin does things in his own time, in his own way, and always has. He gets enough pressure from his family that John learned at the age of nine that Kevin likes to do things his own way.
But that doesn’t stop John from stealing a bottle from behind the bar and holding it up, tilting his head toward the stairs and then heading up them, not really looking to see if Kevin’s going to follow but pretty sure he is. Kevin has a thing for goodbyes.
**
“So, this is where the magic happens, huh?” Kevin glances around the room, which looks like a disaster area rivaling Chernobyl. John’s not quite sure that the place isn’t radioactive, especially since his roommate got kicked out of the frat, and he’s pretty sure the most hazardous thing is his dirty clothes and possibly his tennis shoes after his run in yesterday’s heat. “I can’t imagine why you don’t make it past the first date.”
“If you score them on the first date, Kevin, why do you need more than one?” John grins, and he’s missed this, this easy camaraderie that he and Kevin have always had, ever since they met when they were seven, the day John’s father, the Colonel, set up the tent in the back yard and told John it was about time he learned a few survival skills. “I mean, you keep ‘em around after that, they expect things. Chocolates. Flowers. Commitment.”
Kevin laughs and sits on the edge of John’s bed, pushing aside a copy of Hustler. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, looking up at John. John leans against the wall, bottle loose in his hands and smiles at Kevin, looking at him for the first time in a long time.
“You look different.”
“Yeah? Different how?” Kevin doesn’t look away, and that’s one of the things John likes about him. Kevin’s not a fan of confrontation, but he’ll face it head on and deal with things. He’s going to be a good lawyer, John’s sure. He figures he’s already gotten enough training arbitrating the insanity that is the Walker clan.
“Dunno. Different.” John takes a drink and hisses, the tequila smooth and rough all at once. “More…relaxed?”
“Did I look uptight before?” Kevin leans back, his hands buried in John’s covers. His t-shirt rides up a little bit, exposing the smallest slice of torso. John’s eyes lock on it, the hint of dark hair feathering over his skin.
“Not uptight. Just not…comfortable.” John takes another drink and forces his eyes back to Kevin’s face. Kevin’s smiling, those blue eyes bright with amusement, and John wonders how much Kevin’s had to drink. “You want some tequila?”
“Sure.” Kevin doesn’t move and John smiles, pushing off the wall. He wonders for a moment if it’s supposed to be this easy, but then stops wondering at all as he straddles Kevin, knees on either side of his thighs, and settles there, tilting the bottle toward Kevin’s mouth. “Jo-” He’s cut off as the tequila starts flowing, scrambling to swallow it down.
John laughs and rights the bottle, grinning as Kevin glares at him, tequila on his chin and dripping down onto his collar, running down his neck. “Whoops.”
“Ass.” Kevin can’t quite contain his laugh, though the sound changes as John leans in and licks the corner of Kevin’s lips. He pauses, tasting the Patron against his tongue before sliding his mouth and tongue along Kevin’s jaw, cleaning up the mess he made. “J-John…Jesus.”
Kevin’s head falls back and John leans in further, exploring Kevin’s neck. Kevin groans and his breath quickens, and John can feel Kevin’s thighs tighten beneath him. “Mmm. Taste good, Walker.”
“What’re…what…” Kevin groans again as John’s teeth nip at his skin, his tongue sliding under Kevin’s collar. He falls back even further on the bed, down on his elbows instead of his hands, his head still thrown back. John braces himself over Kevin, moving to the other side of his neck. “What’re you doing, John?”
“Don’t tell me guys only do this to girls, Walker.” He murmurs the words against Kevin’s neck, tasting tequila and heat and smoke on Kevin’s skin, and the something that he’s pretty sure is just Kevin, because he doesn’t think smart-ass and sexy actually has a real taste. He’s not sure which drink he was on when he started thinking of Kevin as sexy, or if he’s thought it for a while and it took the tequila to let him actually acknowledge it, but whatever it is, it’s true. “Won’t believe you.”
“Meant more in the…oh…fuck, John.” Kevin reaches up with one hand and curls his fist into John’s hair. John pulls back and looks at him, eyes hot, and finds himself caught in the flash of blue fire in Kevin’s eyes. He can see the heavy rise and fall of Kevin’s chest in his peripheral vision and he shifts forward and can feel the hard line of Kevin’s cock. Kevin’s voice is soft and scared. “What are you doing?”
“Just this,” John assures him, not sure that he’s actually answering Kevin’s question, not sure he has an answer. He leans in and Kevin lets him, his hand loosening in John’s hair, curving around the base of his skull as John kisses him, tongue slipping past parted lips to the tequila-soaked warmth of Kevin’s mouth.
Kevin makes a noise that sends a flare of heat through John, a targeted missile that hits at the base of his cock and sends a rush of blood pulsing along it. He groans against Kevin’s mouth - God, are all mouths this hot? - and thrusts against him, rocking his hips forward and groaning again at the answering pressure.
John breaks away, gasping, not moving back from Kevin. He can taste Kevin’s breath, scattered and shallow as it is, and feel every movement Kevin makes, from his hand clenching into a fist against John’s thigh - when did Kevin lie down? - to the throb of blood pulsing through Kevin’s cock beneath John’s, to the tightening of Kevin’s thighs under him. He reaches back with one hand, catching Kevin’s wrist and guiding his hand up, settling it on John’s thigh. “Touch me.”
“I can’t,” Kevin whispers, longing thick in his voice. “I can’t start. I won’t know how to stop.”
“Good,” John breathes. “Touch me.”
Kevin gasps and his hand smooths against John’s hip then slides up, tugging his t-shirt from his jeans. He slides his hand against John’s skin and John groans, thrusting down against Kevin. Kevin’s hand tightens at the back of John’s head and pulls him down, kissing him this time, aggressive and hungry.
John groans against Kevin’s mouth and matches him, kiss for kiss. He can’t seem to stop the thrust of his hips, rocking down against Kevin with heat and pressure and friction. Kevin’s hand runs up and down John’s back, stroking the length of it again and again and then…
John pulls back, panting roughly as Kevin’s hand settles on his ass. His nails scrape against the denim of John’s jeans and John eases into a sitting position, looking down at Kevin. His lips are swollen, wet and red, parted as he fights to breathe. His eyes are wild and dark and there’s something in them that John’s almost afraid of, afraid of hurting him, afraid of wanting him.
He doesn’t recognize his own voice when he finally manages to speak. “You want me, Walker?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead tugging his shirt over his head. He looks down at Kevin again, noting all the other things like his shirt rucked halfway up his chest, exposing his stomach and the muscles quivering, flexing with every breath. Like Kevin’s cock pressed hard against his jeans, defined against the worn fabric. John reaches down and runs his fingers along the length of it, tracing the outline. “Oh yes.”
“J-John.” Kevin’s breathless. John closes his eyes and takes the sound in, memorizing his name on Kevin’s tongue, hungry and wanting and desperate. Kevin thrusts up against John’s hand, hips rocking against the pressure of him. John tightens his knees against Kevin’s thighs, riding the upward strokes easily. “J-John. P-please.”
“Touch me, Kevin.”
Kevin whimpers, his hands on John’s chest as if against Kevin’s will. John wants to close his eyes and just feel, but instead he watches Kevin’s long fingers trace muscle and flesh. His nails scrape across John’s nipples and John groans, hips rolling forward in response.
He looks down at Kevin, watches him focus on every touch, on John’s every response. John licks his lips, his own breath hard and tight in his chest, swallowing hard as Kevin’s hands trail down, settling against John’s waistband for a moment before slowly unfastening his belt. Kevin looks up in that instant, making sure that, whatever it is that’s happening - John’s not really sure, not anymore, never was - is okay. John nods once and Kevin drops his eyes back to the leather, undoing it with shaking hands.
“Why’re you shaking?” The words aren’t accusatory, just curious, uncertain. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
Kevin looks up, eyes serious even in the face of John’s teasing. “Not with you.”
John nods and licks his lips. This time, Kevin doesn’t look away as he separates John’s belt and then begins to undo the buttons on John’s jeans. Every release makes John breathe a little faster, a little easier as the tight pressure against his cock eases, replaced instead by the ghostly brushes of Kevin’s fingers as he undoes the rest of John’s fly.
“Ke-Kevin.”
Kevin nods, even though John’s not sure if he was asking a question or begging or saying stop or wanting more. He just nods and tugs the denim apart then eases the cotton of John’s boxers over his cock, freeing him to the overcharged air of the room and the sudden smooth pressure of Kevin’s hand.
“Oh…fuck. Kevin.”
Kevin strokes him easily, slowly and John’s eyes fall closed, his mouth open in an effort to breathe. It feels different - God, so different - strong and rough and gentle all at once, sure unlike so many of the girls who have done this, tentative unlike his own hand. Kevin’s hand tightens slightly, curving along his length and increasing his pace. John’s breath catches and he shudders, his hands reaching back to fist against Kevin’s thighs.
“S-so hard,” Kevin whispers, his voice strangely reverent. John forces his eyes down to Kevin’s, watching him watch his hand stroke John. “So hard for me.”
John’s breath hurts his chest, hurts his head, since he can’t seem to get enough oxygen to think, and all the blood in his body seems pooled and pounding along his cock. He thrusts into Kevin’s hand, his nails digging into Kevin’s thighs. “Please, Kevin.” He’s not sure what he’s asking for, still unsure, but he wants more, wants harder, wants…wants.
Kevin nods and begins stroking him in earnest and John can’t help but groan, thick and desperate. It feels right and perfect and tight. He glances down at Kevin’s hand, watching it move over him.
“God, so…want…” John’s mouth is moving, but he’s not sure of the words, not sure of anything but the feel of Kevin’s hand, the need for more, harder, faster. “Want…” He closes his eyes, and instead of Kevin’s hand, he imagines Kevin’s mouth, imagines it, tequila hot and tight around him, sliding along his shaft. “Oh…fuck.”
He comes, pulsing in Kevin’s grip, hot and wet against Kevin’s hand. His hands are tight around Kevin’s thighs, probably tight enough to bruise. His back is arched as he comes, still thrusting desperately as Kevin continues to stroke him.
“G-G-God, Kevin. Stop. Please. God.” His chest is heaving, his body jerking hard as Kevin’s hand keeps moving. John’s shuddering and gasping, panting roughly as Kevin finally stops. He stays there, straddling Kevin, unable to move or think as blood rushes to his head and his lungs and his heart and every inch of him feels on fire and flooded.
Finally, he glances down at Kevin and smiles, breath still rough. Kevin’s face is guarded, and John’s almost certain that if he weren’t effectively sitting on Kevin’s lap, Kevin would already be out the door and gone. John shakes his head, smiling more as he leans in, his mouth angling over Kevin’s.
Kevin makes a hungry, desperate sound as John kisses him, arching up into him. John groans, still awash in sensation, deepening the kiss as best he can until he has to breathe again. “Want to make you feel good, Kevin.” He pulls back, easing off of Kevin, off the bed, though his hands are careful to stay caught in Kevin’s jeans, fingers trembling as he undoes Kevin’s belt and works at his fly.
“You don’t…”
John looks up at him, his eyes brooking no argument. “I want.”
Kevin groans, his hips rising off the bed. John tugs Kevin’s jeans and boxers down to Kevin’s knees and then stares at him, looking up the hair-roughened thighs to the curve of Kevin’s cock. He swallows as Kevin rises up on his elbows, looking down at him. “You don’t have to.” His voice is soft, carefully not tinged with anything like regret or disappointment. “It’s all right.”
“Told you.” John presses his hands against Kevin’s knees, palms tickled by the hair as he slides them up to the top of Kevin’s thighs. “I want to.”
He leans in, breath hot and shaky. He closes his eyes, nuzzling Kevin’s cock with his nose then his mouth, tasting the feel of it, the air around it. Kevin makes a noise low in his throat and John does his best to ignore it, opening his mouth and running his tongue along a small swipe of flesh.
“G…J-John.”
He shakes his head slightly and breathes on the flesh, feeling it respond, twitch and harden as he lets his tongue slide out again, painting a stripe along Kevin’s cock from base to tip. Kevin gasps, his hips rising up as his hands fist in the sheets on either side of him.
“Like that, Walker?” he asks softly, running his tongue along the ridge of the head. He can feel Kevin’s whimper, feel him shudder as John poises over the head of Kevin’s cock, casting a quick, hot glance toward Kevin’s face. “Is that what you want?”
“J-John…I…”
John takes him in his mouth, barely hearing Kevin’s low groan as he feels the hard flesh fill him up. He pulls back as Kevin’s hips thrust up, keeping just the head in his mouth as he reaches for Kevin’s hips, holding them hard against the bed. He tries again, taking Kevin in by inches, bathing the flesh with his tongue as his lips close around it.
“J-…” Kevin’s voice is like a distant echo in John’s ears and he tunes him out, focusing instead on the shift and feel of flesh against his tongue, the salty bitter taste from the head of Kevin’s cock thick against the back of his throat. He pulls back and then takes Kevin in again, knowing this can’t be all that satisfying to Kevin - awkward and unsure. He rubs his thumbs against Kevin’s hips, stroking him slowly as he finds his rhythm, finally managing tongue and mouth and just a bare hint of teeth.
Kevin gasps and his hand finds John’s hair again, stroking the thick mass one moment then tugging it the next, his hips fighting against John’s hold as he tries to guide John. John whimpers around Kevin’s cock, wanting him deeper despite the thickness that fills his mouth, his throat. Kevin manages to fight past John’s grip on his hips, thrusting up shallowly. John matches the rhythm of the thrusts, falling into a give and take, a smooth slide of flesh.
John slides one hand over, curving it around the base of Kevin’s cock, stroking upward. Kevin moans again, his hand tightening in John’s hair hard enough that it hurts, and John pulls back, uncertain.
“C-close,” Kevin pants, and John can’t help but stare, because Kevin’s flushed and damp with perspiration and fucking gorgeous. “’m…I’m close.” John nods, his hand still moving over Kevin’s cock, the flesh wet from John’s mouth, and slick from the hint of thick liquid at the tip. Kevin closes his eyes, and John’s glad, because he can’t look away, can’t do anything but keep his eyes on Kevin’s parted lips, listening to Kevin’s ragged breath. His hand moves roughly, tight and suddenly desperate to see Kevin come, to watch it take him over.
Kevin gasps as his cock tightens, the heavy pulse of his orgasm moving beneath John’s hand as he comes. John keeps stroking him, unsure he can stop moving his hand, can stop anything that makes Kevin arch off the bed, makes him look like some debauched angel in a t-shirt and blue jeans.
“G-G…God…God.” Kevin’s panting and tightening the hand in John’s hair while the other beats against the bed. “S-stop. Please. God. Stop. Can’t…”
John stills his hand and Kevin shudders desperately, breath ratcheting roughly in his chest. Without thinking, John leans in and runs his tongue over the head of Kevin’s cock, closing his eyes as he tastes it, his ears filled with Kevin’s low keen of desperate pleasure.
After a long moment of silence, John shucks his own jeans, tugging up his boxers before lying on the bed next to Kevin. “Tastes like chicken.”
Kevin sputters a laugh, turning his head toward John. “You’re insane.”
“Yeah, well, that’s why you love me, Walker.”
Kevin’s smile fades the tiniest bit and he shrugs. “It’s why I’ll miss you.”
“It’s not like I’ll be gone forever, Kevin.” John stares up at the ceiling, unable to meet Kevin’s eyes. “A year on the road, then they’re famous and I’m famous and we’ll be back in LA before the next celebrity dies of a drug overdose.”
Kevin shakes his head and stares up at the ceiling as well, pretending John’s not lying to them both. “I’ll still miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.” John leans in and rests his head against Kevin’s shoulder for a brief moment then pulls back, closing his eyes. “You staying the night? Pretend we’re in the tent?”
“For old time’s sake.” John can feel Kevin nod. “Yeah. I can do that.”
“Set your alarm for right before sunrise, before the Colonel’s.” John can feel the satisfaction and satiation creeping over him, the tequila knocking his feet out from under him. He yawns. “Be gone before I wake up.”
“Maybe this time I won’t,” Kevin offers and John shakes his head and yawns again, and pretends Kevin’s not the one lying to them both this time.
AUTHOR: Laura Smith
PAIRING: Kevin/John (OMC)
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: Just another lonely boy in town
DISCLAIMER: Brothers & Sisters and all the characters therein belong to people who are not me. I make no profit from this, I just like playing with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to inlovewithnight for the beta (and for, you know, creating the OMC). For the One Night Stand Challenge
John’s been drinking more than he should, but he figures it’s required - he’s at a frat party, he’s a frat brother, and this is the last night he does this before he drops out of school and hits the road with Layla and her band, because anything has to be better than this.
Not that he won’t miss a few things that school provides, but he’s pretty sure that hot girls willing to have sex with him are just as likely to be hanging around in dark clubs and dirty honkytonks. So really the only thing he’s likely to miss is Kevin. Not that they’ve hung around much since high school - since Kevin came out - since Kevin put distance he doesn’t want to talk about between them, and John isn’t sure how to bridge it. He thinks it might be because he’s a straight frat boy - he and Kevin should be laughing about that - or maybe it’s simply because he’s straight.
Or maybe it has something to do with the way Kevin’s looking at him right now.
He’s surprised Kevin came to the party, but Kevin’s the only one likely to believe he’d drop all this assumed power and prestige for watered-down beers and broken-down buses and pick-up trucks. John’s kept his distance, because Kevin has, and John doesn’t want to pressure him. Kevin does things in his own time, in his own way, and always has. He gets enough pressure from his family that John learned at the age of nine that Kevin likes to do things his own way.
But that doesn’t stop John from stealing a bottle from behind the bar and holding it up, tilting his head toward the stairs and then heading up them, not really looking to see if Kevin’s going to follow but pretty sure he is. Kevin has a thing for goodbyes.
**
“So, this is where the magic happens, huh?” Kevin glances around the room, which looks like a disaster area rivaling Chernobyl. John’s not quite sure that the place isn’t radioactive, especially since his roommate got kicked out of the frat, and he’s pretty sure the most hazardous thing is his dirty clothes and possibly his tennis shoes after his run in yesterday’s heat. “I can’t imagine why you don’t make it past the first date.”
“If you score them on the first date, Kevin, why do you need more than one?” John grins, and he’s missed this, this easy camaraderie that he and Kevin have always had, ever since they met when they were seven, the day John’s father, the Colonel, set up the tent in the back yard and told John it was about time he learned a few survival skills. “I mean, you keep ‘em around after that, they expect things. Chocolates. Flowers. Commitment.”
Kevin laughs and sits on the edge of John’s bed, pushing aside a copy of Hustler. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head, looking up at John. John leans against the wall, bottle loose in his hands and smiles at Kevin, looking at him for the first time in a long time.
“You look different.”
“Yeah? Different how?” Kevin doesn’t look away, and that’s one of the things John likes about him. Kevin’s not a fan of confrontation, but he’ll face it head on and deal with things. He’s going to be a good lawyer, John’s sure. He figures he’s already gotten enough training arbitrating the insanity that is the Walker clan.
“Dunno. Different.” John takes a drink and hisses, the tequila smooth and rough all at once. “More…relaxed?”
“Did I look uptight before?” Kevin leans back, his hands buried in John’s covers. His t-shirt rides up a little bit, exposing the smallest slice of torso. John’s eyes lock on it, the hint of dark hair feathering over his skin.
“Not uptight. Just not…comfortable.” John takes another drink and forces his eyes back to Kevin’s face. Kevin’s smiling, those blue eyes bright with amusement, and John wonders how much Kevin’s had to drink. “You want some tequila?”
“Sure.” Kevin doesn’t move and John smiles, pushing off the wall. He wonders for a moment if it’s supposed to be this easy, but then stops wondering at all as he straddles Kevin, knees on either side of his thighs, and settles there, tilting the bottle toward Kevin’s mouth. “Jo-” He’s cut off as the tequila starts flowing, scrambling to swallow it down.
John laughs and rights the bottle, grinning as Kevin glares at him, tequila on his chin and dripping down onto his collar, running down his neck. “Whoops.”
“Ass.” Kevin can’t quite contain his laugh, though the sound changes as John leans in and licks the corner of Kevin’s lips. He pauses, tasting the Patron against his tongue before sliding his mouth and tongue along Kevin’s jaw, cleaning up the mess he made. “J-John…Jesus.”
Kevin’s head falls back and John leans in further, exploring Kevin’s neck. Kevin groans and his breath quickens, and John can feel Kevin’s thighs tighten beneath him. “Mmm. Taste good, Walker.”
“What’re…what…” Kevin groans again as John’s teeth nip at his skin, his tongue sliding under Kevin’s collar. He falls back even further on the bed, down on his elbows instead of his hands, his head still thrown back. John braces himself over Kevin, moving to the other side of his neck. “What’re you doing, John?”
“Don’t tell me guys only do this to girls, Walker.” He murmurs the words against Kevin’s neck, tasting tequila and heat and smoke on Kevin’s skin, and the something that he’s pretty sure is just Kevin, because he doesn’t think smart-ass and sexy actually has a real taste. He’s not sure which drink he was on when he started thinking of Kevin as sexy, or if he’s thought it for a while and it took the tequila to let him actually acknowledge it, but whatever it is, it’s true. “Won’t believe you.”
“Meant more in the…oh…fuck, John.” Kevin reaches up with one hand and curls his fist into John’s hair. John pulls back and looks at him, eyes hot, and finds himself caught in the flash of blue fire in Kevin’s eyes. He can see the heavy rise and fall of Kevin’s chest in his peripheral vision and he shifts forward and can feel the hard line of Kevin’s cock. Kevin’s voice is soft and scared. “What are you doing?”
“Just this,” John assures him, not sure that he’s actually answering Kevin’s question, not sure he has an answer. He leans in and Kevin lets him, his hand loosening in John’s hair, curving around the base of his skull as John kisses him, tongue slipping past parted lips to the tequila-soaked warmth of Kevin’s mouth.
Kevin makes a noise that sends a flare of heat through John, a targeted missile that hits at the base of his cock and sends a rush of blood pulsing along it. He groans against Kevin’s mouth - God, are all mouths this hot? - and thrusts against him, rocking his hips forward and groaning again at the answering pressure.
John breaks away, gasping, not moving back from Kevin. He can taste Kevin’s breath, scattered and shallow as it is, and feel every movement Kevin makes, from his hand clenching into a fist against John’s thigh - when did Kevin lie down? - to the throb of blood pulsing through Kevin’s cock beneath John’s, to the tightening of Kevin’s thighs under him. He reaches back with one hand, catching Kevin’s wrist and guiding his hand up, settling it on John’s thigh. “Touch me.”
“I can’t,” Kevin whispers, longing thick in his voice. “I can’t start. I won’t know how to stop.”
“Good,” John breathes. “Touch me.”
Kevin gasps and his hand smooths against John’s hip then slides up, tugging his t-shirt from his jeans. He slides his hand against John’s skin and John groans, thrusting down against Kevin. Kevin’s hand tightens at the back of John’s head and pulls him down, kissing him this time, aggressive and hungry.
John groans against Kevin’s mouth and matches him, kiss for kiss. He can’t seem to stop the thrust of his hips, rocking down against Kevin with heat and pressure and friction. Kevin’s hand runs up and down John’s back, stroking the length of it again and again and then…
John pulls back, panting roughly as Kevin’s hand settles on his ass. His nails scrape against the denim of John’s jeans and John eases into a sitting position, looking down at Kevin. His lips are swollen, wet and red, parted as he fights to breathe. His eyes are wild and dark and there’s something in them that John’s almost afraid of, afraid of hurting him, afraid of wanting him.
He doesn’t recognize his own voice when he finally manages to speak. “You want me, Walker?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead tugging his shirt over his head. He looks down at Kevin again, noting all the other things like his shirt rucked halfway up his chest, exposing his stomach and the muscles quivering, flexing with every breath. Like Kevin’s cock pressed hard against his jeans, defined against the worn fabric. John reaches down and runs his fingers along the length of it, tracing the outline. “Oh yes.”
“J-John.” Kevin’s breathless. John closes his eyes and takes the sound in, memorizing his name on Kevin’s tongue, hungry and wanting and desperate. Kevin thrusts up against John’s hand, hips rocking against the pressure of him. John tightens his knees against Kevin’s thighs, riding the upward strokes easily. “J-John. P-please.”
“Touch me, Kevin.”
Kevin whimpers, his hands on John’s chest as if against Kevin’s will. John wants to close his eyes and just feel, but instead he watches Kevin’s long fingers trace muscle and flesh. His nails scrape across John’s nipples and John groans, hips rolling forward in response.
He looks down at Kevin, watches him focus on every touch, on John’s every response. John licks his lips, his own breath hard and tight in his chest, swallowing hard as Kevin’s hands trail down, settling against John’s waistband for a moment before slowly unfastening his belt. Kevin looks up in that instant, making sure that, whatever it is that’s happening - John’s not really sure, not anymore, never was - is okay. John nods once and Kevin drops his eyes back to the leather, undoing it with shaking hands.
“Why’re you shaking?” The words aren’t accusatory, just curious, uncertain. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”
Kevin looks up, eyes serious even in the face of John’s teasing. “Not with you.”
John nods and licks his lips. This time, Kevin doesn’t look away as he separates John’s belt and then begins to undo the buttons on John’s jeans. Every release makes John breathe a little faster, a little easier as the tight pressure against his cock eases, replaced instead by the ghostly brushes of Kevin’s fingers as he undoes the rest of John’s fly.
“Ke-Kevin.”
Kevin nods, even though John’s not sure if he was asking a question or begging or saying stop or wanting more. He just nods and tugs the denim apart then eases the cotton of John’s boxers over his cock, freeing him to the overcharged air of the room and the sudden smooth pressure of Kevin’s hand.
“Oh…fuck. Kevin.”
Kevin strokes him easily, slowly and John’s eyes fall closed, his mouth open in an effort to breathe. It feels different - God, so different - strong and rough and gentle all at once, sure unlike so many of the girls who have done this, tentative unlike his own hand. Kevin’s hand tightens slightly, curving along his length and increasing his pace. John’s breath catches and he shudders, his hands reaching back to fist against Kevin’s thighs.
“S-so hard,” Kevin whispers, his voice strangely reverent. John forces his eyes down to Kevin’s, watching him watch his hand stroke John. “So hard for me.”
John’s breath hurts his chest, hurts his head, since he can’t seem to get enough oxygen to think, and all the blood in his body seems pooled and pounding along his cock. He thrusts into Kevin’s hand, his nails digging into Kevin’s thighs. “Please, Kevin.” He’s not sure what he’s asking for, still unsure, but he wants more, wants harder, wants…wants.
Kevin nods and begins stroking him in earnest and John can’t help but groan, thick and desperate. It feels right and perfect and tight. He glances down at Kevin’s hand, watching it move over him.
“God, so…want…” John’s mouth is moving, but he’s not sure of the words, not sure of anything but the feel of Kevin’s hand, the need for more, harder, faster. “Want…” He closes his eyes, and instead of Kevin’s hand, he imagines Kevin’s mouth, imagines it, tequila hot and tight around him, sliding along his shaft. “Oh…fuck.”
He comes, pulsing in Kevin’s grip, hot and wet against Kevin’s hand. His hands are tight around Kevin’s thighs, probably tight enough to bruise. His back is arched as he comes, still thrusting desperately as Kevin continues to stroke him.
“G-G-God, Kevin. Stop. Please. God.” His chest is heaving, his body jerking hard as Kevin’s hand keeps moving. John’s shuddering and gasping, panting roughly as Kevin finally stops. He stays there, straddling Kevin, unable to move or think as blood rushes to his head and his lungs and his heart and every inch of him feels on fire and flooded.
Finally, he glances down at Kevin and smiles, breath still rough. Kevin’s face is guarded, and John’s almost certain that if he weren’t effectively sitting on Kevin’s lap, Kevin would already be out the door and gone. John shakes his head, smiling more as he leans in, his mouth angling over Kevin’s.
Kevin makes a hungry, desperate sound as John kisses him, arching up into him. John groans, still awash in sensation, deepening the kiss as best he can until he has to breathe again. “Want to make you feel good, Kevin.” He pulls back, easing off of Kevin, off the bed, though his hands are careful to stay caught in Kevin’s jeans, fingers trembling as he undoes Kevin’s belt and works at his fly.
“You don’t…”
John looks up at him, his eyes brooking no argument. “I want.”
Kevin groans, his hips rising off the bed. John tugs Kevin’s jeans and boxers down to Kevin’s knees and then stares at him, looking up the hair-roughened thighs to the curve of Kevin’s cock. He swallows as Kevin rises up on his elbows, looking down at him. “You don’t have to.” His voice is soft, carefully not tinged with anything like regret or disappointment. “It’s all right.”
“Told you.” John presses his hands against Kevin’s knees, palms tickled by the hair as he slides them up to the top of Kevin’s thighs. “I want to.”
He leans in, breath hot and shaky. He closes his eyes, nuzzling Kevin’s cock with his nose then his mouth, tasting the feel of it, the air around it. Kevin makes a noise low in his throat and John does his best to ignore it, opening his mouth and running his tongue along a small swipe of flesh.
“G…J-John.”
He shakes his head slightly and breathes on the flesh, feeling it respond, twitch and harden as he lets his tongue slide out again, painting a stripe along Kevin’s cock from base to tip. Kevin gasps, his hips rising up as his hands fist in the sheets on either side of him.
“Like that, Walker?” he asks softly, running his tongue along the ridge of the head. He can feel Kevin’s whimper, feel him shudder as John poises over the head of Kevin’s cock, casting a quick, hot glance toward Kevin’s face. “Is that what you want?”
“J-John…I…”
John takes him in his mouth, barely hearing Kevin’s low groan as he feels the hard flesh fill him up. He pulls back as Kevin’s hips thrust up, keeping just the head in his mouth as he reaches for Kevin’s hips, holding them hard against the bed. He tries again, taking Kevin in by inches, bathing the flesh with his tongue as his lips close around it.
“J-…” Kevin’s voice is like a distant echo in John’s ears and he tunes him out, focusing instead on the shift and feel of flesh against his tongue, the salty bitter taste from the head of Kevin’s cock thick against the back of his throat. He pulls back and then takes Kevin in again, knowing this can’t be all that satisfying to Kevin - awkward and unsure. He rubs his thumbs against Kevin’s hips, stroking him slowly as he finds his rhythm, finally managing tongue and mouth and just a bare hint of teeth.
Kevin gasps and his hand finds John’s hair again, stroking the thick mass one moment then tugging it the next, his hips fighting against John’s hold as he tries to guide John. John whimpers around Kevin’s cock, wanting him deeper despite the thickness that fills his mouth, his throat. Kevin manages to fight past John’s grip on his hips, thrusting up shallowly. John matches the rhythm of the thrusts, falling into a give and take, a smooth slide of flesh.
John slides one hand over, curving it around the base of Kevin’s cock, stroking upward. Kevin moans again, his hand tightening in John’s hair hard enough that it hurts, and John pulls back, uncertain.
“C-close,” Kevin pants, and John can’t help but stare, because Kevin’s flushed and damp with perspiration and fucking gorgeous. “’m…I’m close.” John nods, his hand still moving over Kevin’s cock, the flesh wet from John’s mouth, and slick from the hint of thick liquid at the tip. Kevin closes his eyes, and John’s glad, because he can’t look away, can’t do anything but keep his eyes on Kevin’s parted lips, listening to Kevin’s ragged breath. His hand moves roughly, tight and suddenly desperate to see Kevin come, to watch it take him over.
Kevin gasps as his cock tightens, the heavy pulse of his orgasm moving beneath John’s hand as he comes. John keeps stroking him, unsure he can stop moving his hand, can stop anything that makes Kevin arch off the bed, makes him look like some debauched angel in a t-shirt and blue jeans.
“G-G…God…God.” Kevin’s panting and tightening the hand in John’s hair while the other beats against the bed. “S-stop. Please. God. Stop. Can’t…”
John stills his hand and Kevin shudders desperately, breath ratcheting roughly in his chest. Without thinking, John leans in and runs his tongue over the head of Kevin’s cock, closing his eyes as he tastes it, his ears filled with Kevin’s low keen of desperate pleasure.
After a long moment of silence, John shucks his own jeans, tugging up his boxers before lying on the bed next to Kevin. “Tastes like chicken.”
Kevin sputters a laugh, turning his head toward John. “You’re insane.”
“Yeah, well, that’s why you love me, Walker.”
Kevin’s smile fades the tiniest bit and he shrugs. “It’s why I’ll miss you.”
“It’s not like I’ll be gone forever, Kevin.” John stares up at the ceiling, unable to meet Kevin’s eyes. “A year on the road, then they’re famous and I’m famous and we’ll be back in LA before the next celebrity dies of a drug overdose.”
Kevin shakes his head and stares up at the ceiling as well, pretending John’s not lying to them both. “I’ll still miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.” John leans in and rests his head against Kevin’s shoulder for a brief moment then pulls back, closing his eyes. “You staying the night? Pretend we’re in the tent?”
“For old time’s sake.” John can feel Kevin nod. “Yeah. I can do that.”
“Set your alarm for right before sunrise, before the Colonel’s.” John can feel the satisfaction and satiation creeping over him, the tequila knocking his feet out from under him. He yawns. “Be gone before I wake up.”
“Maybe this time I won’t,” Kevin offers and John shakes his head and yawns again, and pretends Kevin’s not the one lying to them both this time.