“With what?” Nick was genuinely confused for a few seconds; then he realized, again, what Greg was talking about. “Oh. Uh…not really. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re a good looking guy and I’m sure you’re…great, and everything, but I’m not like that. I don’t want anyone but John.” It was true, and yet he hesitated as he said it; things with John were so fucked up, and part of him doubted if John would even be there when he went back to their hotel room. “Anyway, why would you want to? With someone you were suspicious of.”
“I told you; I think your motives are pure.” Greg ran his tongue over his lips and smiled. “Had hoped the rest of you wasn’t, but even so, I don’t see why it would matter. I’m not talking about death do us part; just some fun. You’re…different. Hot as hell, yes, but that’s gettable anywhere. You just attract attention and the funny thing is, I don’t think you know it. Your John does, though. That came over loud and clear. Didn’t like me looking one little bit.”
Nick didn’t want to feel anything -- didn’t want to feel warm and pleased, definitely didn’t want to feel the first thin stir of arousal -- but somehow he couldn’t help it. He shifted in his chair and bit his lower lip. “He and I are about more than just fun.” It didn’t sound particularly convincing.
“That’s very nice,” Greg said lazily. “As long as you get the fun, too.” His gaze was openly appraising, openly appreciative now. “He seemed the staid and sober type to me. Possessive. Christ, I was just looking…where’s the harm in that?” He leaned in a little. “Now, if I’d done this…” His fingers dragged slowly along Nick’s leg, stopping well short of his groin but still leaving tingles. “Right in front of him, well, maybe then he’d have a right to get pissed. Seeing how you’re his property by the sound of it.”
“I’m not his property.” Nick said it with just a hint of warning, even though there were ways in which he
did
belong to John and always would. But for some reason -- and he wasn’t sure what it was -- he didn’t get up and walk out.
“Committed? And you’re heading back to that dinky island?” Greg shook his head. “What a waste.”
“It’s not,” Nick said gently, feeling suddenly sorry for the man. “It’s not a waste.” He smiled a little bit and ventured, “No hard feelings?”
Greg chuckled. “Nah. But you can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“So…” Nick leaned forward in his chair. “If I’m not mad at you and you’re not mad at me…”
“Yeah?”
“You think you’d be willing to do another favor for me?” Nick asked.
* * * * *
On the way back to the hotel Nick got lost three times, but he finally made it in one piece. His chest ached with tension as he unlocked the door to their room.
John was sitting on the edge of the bed; his head jerked up as Nick came in. He didn’t say anything, but the relief on his face was clear. The room was dark, lit only by the light spilling out of the small bathroom, and he could see that John was cradling a half-empty bottle of water in his hands. John took a slow, careful sip from it, and then his control cracked. He dropped it to the floor, where it teetered and fell, launching himself across the space separating them and taking hold of Nick in a hug that verged on frantic. “God, I’m so bloody sorry.” John’s arms tightened convulsively, making Nick gasp, and then slackened. “I’ve been sitting here thinking you were going to go by yourself. I’m so bloody sorry for leaving you like that.”
Nick hugged John back, grateful beyond words that he was there and still wanted him. “Shh,” he murmured, stroking John’s hair. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” John shook his head, his breath warm against Nick’s neck. “It’s not right between us anywhere these days, and I don’t know what to do to
make
it right.” He pulled back a little so that Nick could see his face, screwed up and tense. “I’ve never done this before. You’re my first -- God, I don’t know what to call it! Relationship? It’s all still so bloody new, you see. Having you always there, living with you -- I’ve never done it before and even now I wake and you’re beside me and it’s like a dream. Like a dream,” he repeated, his voice desolate. “Aye. And I can tell you I’m sorry, and we can go to bed, sure enough, but it’s not changing anything. It’s not making it right like I want to.”
“Then we’ll try something else,” Nick said, with more confidence than he felt. “Until we can figure out how to make it right.” They had to; the thought of not being with John made Nick feel physically ill. “Just tell me you want to. Tell me you’re not giving up on me. On us.”
“I wouldn’t be feeling this way if I were giving up.” John rubbed at eyes Nick could see now were damp with rare tears. “I don’t think I could, anyway. You matter too much to me. I love you, remember?” He sniffed, the prosaic gesture breaking the tension. “Christ, I’ll be sobbing on your shoulder in a minute…Will it be the jet lag, do you think? Because it’s not something I’m in the habit of doing.”
“Your body can get pretty screwed up from the time change,” Nick agreed, leading John over to the bed and sitting both of them down. “It’s okay. We’ll figure everything out.” He smoothed John’s hair back with one hand. “Maybe we should lie down for a little while and try to get some sleep?”
“Are you tired, then?” John asked as they kicked off their shoes and settled down on the bed, facing each other, automatically finding a position that let them hold each other. “I feel like we’ve done nothing but sleep, somehow.” He leaned in and pressed a hesitant kiss to the corner of Nick’s mouth, quick and light. “We could maybe just rest a bit before we go…”
“Let’s do that.”
They lay there quietly for a minute, slowly relaxing, and then Nick began to run his hand along John’s back -- up over his shoulder, fingertips pressing into the tense muscles there. Down along his spine, to his waist, rubbing gently, then back up to John’s neck, fingers sliding into his hair and ruffling it. John sighed. Nick took that as a good sign and let himself continue to fiddle with John’s hair, mussing it only to smooth it down again.
Less hesitantly now, John kissed Nick again, an unhurried, closed-mouth kiss, his hand cupping Nick’s face, his eyes happier than Nick had seen them for a long time.
“You’re supposed to be getting some rest,” Nick reminded him, but kissed him again anyway, thumb and fingertips massaging away the tension at the base of John’s skull and the back of his neck.
“This
is
restful,” John murmured. “I touch you and I can’t think about anything else. And when you do that…” He made a contented sound and tilted his head back encouragingly.
“You’re really tense.” Nick focused the tips of his fingers on rubbing each rigid spot he could find, slowly and gently coaxing John to relax. It felt so good to touch John like this, to demonstrate with his hands how much he loved him, and Nick found John’s lips again with his own, kissing him in light, open-mouthed kisses that were more teasing than anything else.
“Aye?” John was smiling a little against Nick’s mouth. “You can tell that, can you?” He gave Nick a final kiss, his tongue flickering across Nick’s lip, and rolled to his stomach. “Go on then,” he said, his voice muffled by the pillow. “If you’re that determined to get me relaxed, you might as well do it properly.” He rotated his shoulders experimentally. “Maybe a wee bit stiff…”
“More than a wee bit,” Nick countered, moving until he was straddling John’s hips so that he could get a good grip. John groaned when Nick’s thumbs dug into his shoulder muscles, his ass flexing underneath Nick in a way that wasn’t at all unpleasant. “Breathe. That’s it. Nice, deep breaths.”
John did as he was told, his back rising and falling in a slow, regular rhythm as his body surrendered to Nick’s touch. Nick could feel each muscle group become lax under his hands, see John settle and spread out on the bed, sinking into the covers as if he’d become heavier somehow. There was something oddly trusting about John like this, as he allowed Nick to coax and urge him toward a half-doze.
He kept going until John’s breathing was so slow and steady that he was sure the man was asleep, then eased off him and lay down beside him. He didn’t intend to fall asleep -- he could definitely feel the pull of it, but he thought if he did he’d sleep the night through.
John looked so peaceful, his eyelashes resting gently on his cheeks. Nick couldn’t resist reaching out and touching his face; he stroked light fingertips over John’s cheek and jaw and lower lip.
Under his fingers, John’s lips pushed out in a kiss, slow and sensual. Okay, maybe he wasn’t asleep after all…Nick held his fingers steady and John kissed them again, his mouth lingering, dragging across an inch or two of skin with a drowsy deliberation.
“I thought you were sleeping.” Nick pressed closer, tracing John’s eyebrow with a fingertip.
John smiled faintly. “I am. Fast asleep.” He tilted his head and nuzzled the inner crease of Nick’s wrist, fastening his lips on the place where Nick’s pulse was beating and sucking at it until Nick felt his skin throb in response.
“Very convincing. There’s no doubt in my mind.” Nick shivered as John’s teeth scraped very, very lightly over his wrist. He was getting hard just from this.
“Good…” The word was breathed, not spoken, leaving Nick’s skin flushed with a transient heat. This was a side of John he hadn’t seen before and he wondered if it would have happened without the trauma they’d been through; if John’s innate caution had been shattered by guilt and the fear of losing him. Then John’s tongue traced a line that ended in the center of Nick’s palm and Nick’s cock twitched at the same time his fingers did.
He gave a small, startled moan when the tip of John’s tongue teased the sensitive webbing between two fingers, then curled closer to John. “God. That feels…”
“Shh…” John murmured chidingly, his lips curving in a smile. “You’ll wake me up.” His accent still did things to Nick, even after all the months they’d been together, the musical drawl of it distracting him from what John was actually saying, sometimes. John’s tongue pushed more insistently now, separating out Nick’s middle finger and licking at it in a spiral that ended at the fingertip.
Even knowing what would come next didn’t stop Nick from reacting when John sucked on the captured fingertip, biting down hard enough to send a shock of arousal racing through his body. Nick moaned again, the sound throaty, needy, and watched the shape John’s mouth made as it circled his finger and drew it deeper.
“John,” Nick whispered. His world had narrowed to nothing but this space, and John the only thing in it; his body reacted with longing to everything John did, erection hardening as if it was the part of him being worshipped by John’s incredible mouth.
His finger was released in a slow slide and John kissed it, his hand closing around Nick’s wrist, his thumb stroking across the sensitized skin of Nick’s palm. He stared at Nick in silence, his expressive face pleading. Nick couldn’t think of anything he’d refuse John right then.
“Will you -- I want to show you --” John shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Listen to me. I can’t think for wanting you.” He held Nick’s hand to his face, turning his head to kiss it again before moving closer, his mouth finding Nick’s.
John’s lips on Nick’s were soft, but even that simple touch was enough to fill him with yearning. He groaned and pulled John closer, licking his way into John’s mouth until the other man’s hand tightened on his hip, breath hot and sweet.
It wasn’t enough; Nick needed to feel John’s skin against his own. Reluctant as he was to move away, he did so for just as much time as it took to remove John’s clothes and his own, then lay down beside John again, stroking his bare hip.
He felt John shiver under his touch and glanced down, moving his hand so that it followed his gaze, traveling over John’s chest, dusted with brown hair, his nipples tight and hard, and on to John’s flat stomach, the line of hair there a shade darker. John took a sharp breath, his muscles contracting, and Nick smiled, and crooked his fingers, scraping them with a deliberate roughness over the taut skin. The head of John’s cock brushed his wrist and he let his hand slip off to the side, less out of a desire to tease than to see --
John made a choked, desperate sound and rolled his hips, seeking more contact. It was hard to decide whether to kiss him or watch him; Nick got distracted by the sight of the shadow of John’s hip, though, and ended up foregoing the kiss in favor of stroking his fingertips lower. The soft hair of John’s inner thighs was worth lingering over, and the feel of the skin there was just too much -- Nick had to bend down and lick John’s nipple, feeling John’s gasp and shiver as if it were his own.
This close, this aroused, the smell and taste of John’s skin and the way it felt against Nick’s tongue weren’t three separate sensations, but one, washing over Nick and leaving him needing more. He spread his fingers wide; let his tongue lap fiercely at John’s skin.
“God --” John’s voice was shaky, but the hands sweeping down Nick’s back were steady enough.
This still wasn’t as much as Nick wanted, not by a long shot. He grabbed onto John’s hip and pulled him closer, rubbing against him and finding his lips in wide, hungry, open-mouthed kisses that had them both moaning softly. He could feel John’s cock at his hip, leaving a damp spot on the skin, and that realization made his own erection twitch and ache. “Please,” he whispered, without even knowing exactly what he was asking for.
John pushed against him urgently, his cock riding the hollow of Nick’s hip, his hands tight on Nick, his mouth fastening on Nick’s throat. He was going to leave a mark on the skin, Nick thought, feeling the heat and the pull of John’s mouth and teeth, a dull, warm, welcome pain radiating from the spot.
“Like this?” John moved back just a little, reaching down to take Nick’s hand and bring it to his cock, putting his hand on Nick’s. “Together?”
“Yes.” Nick could barely manage to gasp the word; he was too desperate. The feel of John’s cock in his grip, hard and hot, and the feel of John’s hand moving on his own erection…sweat was beading on his thighs and the back of his neck, his hips shoving forward eagerly, his breathing ragged as his arousal grew.