John McClane was a fairly simple guy with simple rules. Do the job that needed to be done. Pay your taxes, even if you did grumble about the amount. Protect the weak and helpless. Be loyal to your country, your family, your friends, your precinct, and your sports teams, even if some of the players were overpaid prima donnas. Obey authority, except when the person in charge was a jackass. Enjoy as much sex as you could, as it was good and there was never enough of it. Except for his daughter, who should have none until she married. Simple rules. Simple guy.
Unfortunately, his rules had not ever covered dealing with interfering asshole friends who thought he should be sucking cock.
"Would you shut up about that?" he hissed at Charlie, shaking his dick and tucking himself back in.
"You don't know what you're missing," Charlie answered, zipping himself up.
"I'm not missing anything," John protested, washing his hands. "The sex is really good."
"The sex is really one-sided."
"You said most guys like to do one thing or the other. That bottom-top crap." Jeez, he asked the guy for one small bit of advice, why did he feel he had to keep explaining things? John liked sex, but he'd been firmly raised with the notion that it wasn't something to discuss a lot. Or at all.
"Yeah, but that's usually after they've tried both ways." Charlie washed his hands, his dark eyes smiling, meeting John's in the mirror, but emphatic too.
"He's fine with what we do." Matt seemed really fine with their relationship, visiting the last few weekends, the two of them mostly hanging around the house, maybe running a few errands or doing some jogging, watching TV or a movie. A few times John had to finish reports, so after some mandatory mocking for bringing his laptop home, Matt had worked diligently on his own laptop, typing bizarre strings of numbers, letters and symbols. They went to bed early and spent long mornings having sex. It was the best damn comfortable relationship John had known.
Or it would be, if a certain someone didn't keep harping that John ought to try sucking cock.
"Yes, but you won't know if you like it until you try it."
John dried his hands. "Do you have to keep bringing up this shit in the bathroom?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like me to bring it up at our next precinct meeting?"
Charlie probably didn't expect an answer, John assumed, and John didn't give him one, beyond the raised middle finger as he slammed back into the squad room. The only reason Charlie hadn't gotten punched yet was because he hadn't brought up anal sex. If the words 'pop John McClane's cherry' came out of his mouth, he was going down.
John tried not to think about the fact that his mind was considering the possibility without Charlie prompting him.
Walking home from the subway the next Friday night, John wasn't thinking of sucking cock, just of Matt waiting for him and them making a nice dinner together. To John's surprise, Matt was reasonably competent in the kitchen. "Yeah, Mom was always keen on self-sufficiency. My parents are sorta hippies. They're really embarrassing," Matt had admitted, deftly slicing onions for chili, one of John's staple meals.
There wasn't a game on TV tonight, so maybe they'd go to bed early and Matt would want to suck his dick. And maybe… maybe John would give the other way a try. It could be interesting to see how Matt would react. John liked riling Matt, sometimes by being as caveman and retro as he seemed to find exciting, other times by being something almost approaching sweet.
John stepped onto the walkway that led to his house, and there was Matt, sitting on his porch as expected. He needed to remember to give him the house key he'd had cut. Next to him was Lucy. His lover and his daughter, chatting away, waiting for him to come home. At least, Lucy's words were bubbling over. Matt's eyes looked petrified, like he'd been mostly saying "yes" and "uh huh," unable to escape.
Fuck. Not that it wasn't good to see Lucy. He was happy she was making a real effort to spend time with him. But he had a bad feeling that tonight's plans were about to change to the detriment of early evening sex.
"Dad!" Lucy called, and bounded up, throwing herself into his arms. It felt good to have her be so demonstrative and not yelling at him, so he took time to give her a big hug, squeezing tightly.
"Hey honey. What are you doing here? You should have called and let me know you were coming."
"I needed to come up to New York. My friend Tanya's asked me to be a bridesmaid and we're meeting for shopping tomorrow. I thought you wouldn't mind being surprised."
"A bridesmaid, huh? You going to wear one of those big pink dresses with bows?"
She rolled her eyes at him. She shared her mother's ability to look exasperated at him, though lately with more affection. "Something a little classier than that." Her smile and body leaning against him took away any sting.
"John, I, um, told Lucy that I had shopping to do too. But I don't have to get in the way."
"You won't be in the way, Matt. I can take the couch," Lucy offered quickly.
Matt was standing awkwardly on the porch, his overnight bag and his laptop pack both slung over one shoulder, and John realized that he was offering to slip away, to just disappear for the weekend, head back to New Jersey and let John spend the weekend with his daughter. Without even a good-bye kiss. "No, that's okay," Matt said. "I can go to a hotel."
"Oh, you can, can you?"
Lucy tensed, familiar with the tones of John's voice. "Don't be mad at him because I showed up. I'm the one who should have called."
"That's not why I'm mad at him," he told Lucy before snarling at Matt, "You dickhead." He snagged the straps of Matt's bags from his shoulder, jerking them over his own, shoving the key in the lock, opening the door, and stomping into the house. He heard the faint noise of Matt and Lucy following him but didn't stop until he'd reached his bedroom, dropping Matt's bags on his bed. When he turned, Matt was standing just inside the room while Lucy hovered in the doorway. "Is that what you think of me? That I'm such a coward I'd deny my own relationship? That I'd hide the truth from my own daughter?"
"Jesus, John… no, no. That wasn't what I thought."
"But you were going to walk away, weren't you? Trot off and leave us? Come back next weekend?"
"Daddy, what's going on?"
"I didn't want to mess up your relationship, that's all."
Matt's appeasing tone only angered John. "Which still means you thought I was a coward!" His voice rose almost to a yell.
"It's how you act!" Matt yelled in return.
"How I act?" John yelled back, feeling his blood rising. "What do you mean, how I act?"
Lucy crossed her arms, leaning on the doorframe, frowning. "Daddy, really, what is going on here? What are you two talking about?"
"You never take me anywhere! We just hang out here! We don't even go to your bar! You don't want to be seen with me, that's how you act!" Matt buried his forehead in one palm. "Oh god, I sound like a fifties housewife," he moaned. "I've been reduced to a fifties housewife."
"Are you two dating?" Lucy asked, apparently catching a clue.
"We're having sex, honey. It's a little different than dating." John cupped Matt's chin, forcing his head up. "I don't hide my relationships. I used to go to the bar on the weekends because it was nicer than eating alone. Which I'm not doing anyway when I'm eating dinner with you."
"And not going anywhere else?"
John shrugged, keeping Matt's eyes on him. "Where do you want to go? This is how I spend my weekends."
"It is, you know," Lucy confirmed. "He can really hermit if he isn't dragged out of the house."
"Oh." Matt glared at John. "Well, it's not like you ever said anything to Lucy about me."
"I don't tell my kids about my dates. It's none of their damned business. That doesn't mean I'm embarrassed. Don't make those kind of assumptions about me."
"Okay," Matt promised softly. "I'm sorry." Despite Lucy's hovering presence, John brought Matt's face to him, tilting it, pressing a hard bruising kiss on his lips. Matt stepped forward so their bodies met, his hands touching John's waist, then sliding around to his back. When John felt Matt's body soften and melt against his own, felt that answering thrum from his own body, from his dick that was thinking about getting hard and horny, he realized that Lucy might still be watching and one thing they didn't need to display were erections. Releasing Matt's lips, he angled his head away enough to see the doorway. No Lucy.
Matt twisted his upper torso, keeping his hold on John. "You don't suppose she left, do you?" he asked with a tone that suggested if she had, maybe they could get naked right now.
"Not her. She's too like her mother. Come on." He took Matt's hand, pulling him into the living room. Still no Lucy. Into the kitchen to find Lucy with her head in the refrigerator, a cold beer opened on the counter by her.
She took her time stepping away from the refrigerator, lettuce and salad dressing in her hands, her actions very deliberate, so like Holly when she wanted to make a point. "I guess I do get the guest bedroom," she said wryly, shooting curious glances at him and Matt.
"Yeah, honey. I guess you do."
"Or maybe Matt should take the guest bedroom. It's not like you'd ever let me boyfriend stay overnight with me in your house, so why should you?"
"Because it's my house. I get to sleep with whom I want. And when your boyfriend is your husband, he can stay in the same bedroom with you. That's how it works."
Lucy gave him another wry look, but she didn't argue. She'd learned John's rules on sex when she hit puberty. "So are you gay now? Is that why you and Mom never worked out?"
"Jeez, why does everyone have to label everything?"
Lucy arched her eyebrows, displaying her talent for subtle sarcasm. Damn, she could be so like her mother. "So you're just John McClane who happens to be having sex with Matt Farrell?"
"What's so wrong with that? It works for me. It work for you?" he asked Matt, who shrugged.
"Sure. Works for me. Labeling is so often done for controlling socio-economic political reasons anyway."
"There, we're all agreed. Can we have a nice dinner now?"
"My dad willingly uses the word 'relationship' in a sentence? Oh, I would love to stay for dinner with you two." Lucy reached into the refrigerator, pulling out the pasta sauce. "Spaghetti?"
Shutting the door behind them, John pushed Matt up against it, kissing him hard, his hands busy on the fastening of Matt's jeans. They'd had a nice civil evening with his daughter, and John had not blushed once, despite her many attempts to pry, and had only raised his voice a few times to deflect her questions. Jeez, did everyone use that bottom-top lingo these days?
"John, wait – "
"Wait? What for?" John asked, nibbling at Matt's ear, easing the zip all the way down. No waiting. He didn't like to wait once he'd committed to a path. He was going to do this, and if Matt didn't get the point – well, Matt was smart, even if over idealistic. He'd understand.
"Your daughter's in the house!"
"So?" John lifted his head away from Matt's neck, where his lips had drifted to spread a few kisses, surprised to see Matt's horrified expression. "What's wrong with that?"
"She – we can't – she'll know what we're doing!"
"I've been having sex with my daughter in the house since she was born. She'll only know if you scream," John gloated at the last, knowing competition was a likely way to entice Matt past his unexpected prudery.
The tactic worked, because Matt sniped back, "Oh, like I'm the one who makes the most noise."
John dropped to his knees, yanking at Matt's jeans and underwear. "So you have to be quiet, no matter what happens."
"What are you doing?" Matt hissed as John pushed on his clothes until they caught around his knees, leaving his groin and upper thighs bare.
Despite his protestations, Matt was aroused, his dick hardening with each second it was exposed to the air and John's gaze. "I know kids these days are a little clueless, but I didn't think you were quite that dense." Experimentally, John curled his fingers around the shaft. Matt's dick was a good size, but felt comfortable in his hand. Not too big, not too small. Just right.
"You don't give blow jobs."
"I've never been all that good with people telling me what I do or don't do," John noted, before licking the flared head. It tasted like skin, intensely warm and soft skin, but still skin. With the number of times he'd licked his own cuts and bruises, John was very familiar with the taste of skin. Yeah, he could do this.
"Jesus," Matt muttered. "You're – "
John gave the head a few more licks. Yeah, not bad, not bad at all, and the surprise in Matt's eyes made it even better. "I'm what?" Still holding the shaft with one hand, he stroked Matt's balls with the other, liking the contrast between the textures, firm and delicate.
"You've never done this before?"
It had never bothered John's ego to admit to being a novice. Everyone had to start somewhere. But if he could use that fact to turn Matt on even more… he captured the entire head in his mouth, giving it a fast, sloppy sucking before gazing up at Matt, letting him see the head of his dick in John's mouth, finally pulling off with a slurp. "Virgin mouth," he said calmly, repeating the slurping lick. "You think you can handle being the first?"
"Jesus," Matt moaned, his hands cupping John's bald head, his hips thrusting forward as if driven by an involuntary, instinctive need, seeking more of John's mouth.
Grabbing Matt's hips, John slammed them against the door. They weren't as wide as Holly's or the other women he'd been with, but they felt good in his hands, slim and solid. "We're doing this at my pace."
"I should have known you'd top even from the bottom." Matt tried to thrust forward, mostly to make a point, John figured, holding him still as Matt would know he could.
"You don't get to choke the virgin mouth. Hold still. I don't want you to move."
"I can't believe you're asking that of me." Matt's voice was pleasingly stressed.
Rubbing his thumbs on Matt's hips, John said, "If you can't restrain yourself, I'm never going to let you fuck me." Matt whimpered. John squeezed his hips in clear warning. "Can you stay still?"
"Would you – will you – ?"
"Some day. I might. Can you stay still?"
Matt's teeth dug savagely into his bottom lip. His hands went over his head, and he stepped his feet farther apart, as far as his jeans allowed, like he was spread-eagled and bound by invisible restraints against the door.
John could see the effort in his muscles and his breathing, deliberately relaxing himself.
"Okay, I'm good. I'm good."
"Good. I would not want to have to stop."
Not having an excuse to stop was the one disadvantage with Matt's compliance. Not that John wanted to stop because it was just a dick, not a big deal. John had one of them himself. He knew how much they enjoyed a little attention, and Matt certainly deserved some reciprocation for the absolutely fucking amazing blow jobs he gave John every time they got together.
Still, he had to pause. This was the moment. A dick was bobbing in the air in front of him, red and swollen and somehow hungry looking. Good for his hand, but seemingly way too long and round for his mouth. He had to suck until Matt came or he had to stand up and wimp out. Matt would forgive him. Hell, Matt would probably get down on his knees and give him a blow job anyway.
But John McClane didn't back down for anyone. Not from terrorists or bank robbers or Latin American dictators and certainly not from one needy dick.
Releasing Matt's hips, John's hands went back to the position, one curled around his dick, the other massaging his balls. He slipped the head back in his mouth, sucking strongly.
Matt whimpered again, high in his throat.
"Be quiet. You don't want Lucy to hear, do you?"
"Cruel. Unusual. Punishment," Matt whispered, but John didn't worry. He could tell when Matt was enjoying himself.
He returned to sucking – god, this was it, he was sucking another man's cock – and experimented with his tongue, rolling it around the head, stroking it down the length.
Matt was still whimpering, but quieter, his tone low and soft, almost like a wounded animal. Sucking cock was almost more satisfying than fucking, to have Matt so turned on and desperate, but not to be distracted by his own sensations. Just his mouth and Matt's dick and Matt's desperation.
Flavor leaked into his mouth, Matt's pre-come, and it was bitter, but the taste came with another rush of power, at yet more physical evidence of Matt's excitement. He'd never appreciated this aspect of being with a guy, that it was so much harder for a man to fake it.
John jerked his hand on Matt's cock, masturbating it, and that took some coordination, to jerk with one hand and stroke with the other, but the continued rush of pre-come and the insane whimpering was worth feeling like he was patting his head while rubbing his belly.
Deep throating was out of the question, not on the first time at least, but John took more of Matt's dick into his mouth, bobbing his head back and forth, accustoming himself to the length, accepting another inch and another. He slid his hands to Matt's butt, holding it while he learned how much he could take, feeling the sleekness of his skin and the dimples on each side of his cheeks. Matt's dick finally bumped on the back of his mouth, the hair on Matt's groin tickling his nose, and that was the signal to begin slowly backing off. He didn't mind being a novice, but he wouldn't go so far that he'd gag, because no way was this ending with him hacking.
He slurped off loudly, reclaiming Matt's dick with one hand, giving it a rough jacking. "I want you to come now."
Matt obeyed, his body arching from the door as the come shot from his dick, again and again and again. John caught some on his tongue, wanting to taste it, but let the rest of it splatter on his shirt.
Penis deflated, still half-dressed, sweaty, with his mouth swollen from biting at it, Matt slumped to the ground, breathing heavily. Christ, was there a more beautiful sight? John was tempted to stand, undo his pants, stick his cock in Matt's mouth and fuck his face, knowing Matt would moan and lick and happily accept all of John's dick until his balls were slapping on Matt's chin. But that wouldn't be enough. John kissed him softly before saying, "Come on. I want to fuck you now."
Nodding, Matt stood up with John's help. John stripped Matt's clothes from him, caressing and kissing him all the time. Slower, but as persistently, Matt returned the favor, undoing John's buttons and zipper, helping him until both were naked, and moving to the bed, Matt sprawling on his stomach.
Stopping only for a moment to admire Matt's gorgeousness, John knelt between his thighs, lubed up his hole, rolled on a condom and fucked Matt as long and as slow as was humanly possible. He wanted to stay here forever without end, imprinting himself within Matt's body, Matt welcoming, accepting. Feeling his own orgasm begin to roll through his nerves, John reached for Matt's cock, giving it a few swift tugs, making him come again, his ass squeezing John's dick as both gave low moans.
Later on, as they cuddled together, exhausted and sweaty, Matt brushed his fingers over John's lips. John opened his mouth, sucking in the tips and licking at them.
"God. Virgin mouth."
"Not any more." He sucked on Matt's fingers. "I thought you liked to bottom."
"I'm versatile. And some things are definitely worth exploring both ways."
"So you want to, uh."
"Any time you're ready," Matt affirmed fervently. "Any time. Or not at all. I love everything we do."
John wasn't sure how to express what Matt's honesty and patience made him feel. Perhaps… humble? "Maybe then. Maybe soon."
"God." Matt's fingers spasmed against John's lips, as if the mere thought could arouse him again. John licked his fingers soothingly, tasting the tip of each, the faint calluses from typing, the hardness of his nails, until he felt them become lax with sleep. He hugged Matt closer and followed him.