Sunday mornings were John's favorite time of the week. He was called in less often then on Saturdays, suggesting that even criminals liked to have a good snooze. Of course, he'd had the whole last week off, caring for Matt, so this Sunday morning was particularly special, his last day to wake up slowly, no alarm buzzing, nothing but warmth and the feel of Matt in his arms.
Only Matt wasn't in his arms, but sitting up in the bed, his laptop on his knees, softly typing. "Hey, sleepyhead," Matt said, way too cheerfully.
John squinted at him. "You're not a morning person, are you?" He'd never categorized himself as either a morning or evening person, just as someone who needed to adapt to his schedule's requirements. But he'd roomed with a few morning people during college and in the Academy, and people who were willingly productive before he'd even start to drink his coffee drove him a bit nuts.
Matt shook his head. "I'm usually a night owl. I've been sleeping too much this week."
"Sleep's good for you." John stroked Matt's side before succumbing to the need to use the bathroom, heaving himself out of the bed and returning to it immediately after brushing his teeth, punching his pillow and squirming into a comfy position under the covers.
"Are you going to sleep some more?"
"Yeah, I thought I would."
"This isn't bothering you, is it?" Matt waved one hand over his laptop.
"Nah." John found Matt's thigh under the covers, curled his hand around it, and dozed. He'd lived with a number of people in his life, some short-term, some long. His parents and his sister, of course, and then that horrible year and a half when grandpa Leo had moved in with them, unable to be alone any longer, and John had learned way more about the vagaries of old people than he'd ever wanted to know, though he supposed it had been good training for handling senile people after he became a cop.
Then a couple of different guys during college and the whole group in the barracks when he'd attended the peace officer training academy. Dealing with lots of different personalities had never been a problem. John was good at letting roommates know when they were aggravating him, and accepting criticism when offered. And reasonable.
Then Jill, who he'd been serious about for all of three months before their relationship had deteriorated when she turned out to be a psycho. She'd thrown his stuff out the door faster than he could pack. John was grateful that the only loss was a pair of new sneakers that some passerby had carried off. Then Holly and ultimately Jack and Lucy until that relationship had deteriorated and Holly had packed up their stuff and moved to California. He'd known their marriage had some stresses but overall he'd thought everything had been pretty good. Sometimes he could still hear Holly's dry voice, "Yes, but sometimes you just don't think, John." At least she didn't break any of his stuff on her way out. She'd even got a cleaner in so everything was neat and tidy when he arrived home, no dust rings from where items had been moved. Her meticulousness was part of why she was such a highly-paid corporate officer, he supposed.
After the Nakatomi thing, they'd lived together again in LA, and John had tried his damnedst to adjust to the Southern California lifestyle, mowing the lawn every Sunday and driving everywhere, but ultimately he couldn't fake it any more and Holly couldn't cope with him being…well, himself. They broke up again. Even though John had hated to leave the kids, he'd fucking loved escaping from the Hollywood artificiality and back to New York where if someone thought you were an asshole, they said so.
Back in his beloved city, he'd surfed on friends' couches for a while. Financially those times had been tough, because he'd insisted on paying support for his kids, even though he knew damn well Holly didn't need the money and probably packed it all in the kids' college accounts. The principle mattered, and John McClane wasn't a slacker father. Movies that showed people living in big open lofts in Manhattan always made him laugh. New York City was a ridiculously expensive place to live. Finally he'd found a small, affordable place in Brooklyn, accepting that he'd only need two bedrooms, one for him and one for whichever kid was visiting, because Jack and Lucy were in their teens by then and already having separate lives. For the first time, he was making a home for himself, a home where he expected to live a long time, and sometimes that was lonely, but it could be okay too, not having to make compromises or being nagged about beard stubble in the sink.
Matt had been surprisingly easy to have underfoot every day. He was… comfortable. Mocking but not demanding. He didn't pick up after himself very much, but neither did John. Of course, he was still recovering from brawling with a thief, so he was more subdued than normal, but the thought crossed John's mind that they could probably scrape together well.
And why not? Matt worked from home, so he didn't need to be in New Jersey. He hadn't even finished replacing all his stuff after his apartment had been blown up, so they wouldn't have a lot of problems with combining their possessions.
John decided to give it a little time before bringing it up. There wasn't any big rush. After his cast was removed, John would help Matt pack up his stuff and move in. That would be good timing. Maybe the second bedroom could be rearranged to make an office for Matt, because he needed a lot more than just his laptop for his daily work. John didn't understand what he did, but he'd seen the extent of his computer gear before a few bricks of C-4 had demolished it, and presumed he must want all that again. The second bedroom could use a new paint job too, so might as well do that at the same time.
Smiling, John moved his fingers on Matt's side, enjoying the feel of his soft skin, watching him type on the laptop on his lap. He was slowly pecking at the keyboard this morning but it was amazing how fast he could drum out rows of seemingly abstract numbers and symbols when he was absorbed in his work. After Matt moved in, they could laze in bed, relaxing or having sex or whatever, every weekend and all the holidays. Or more likely, the weekdays John got off for all the holidays he had to work.
Matt gave a little, "Hmm?"
"It's Sunday morning." John glanced at the clock. Barely past 8:00 am, so at least not insanely early. "Why are you working already?"
"I'm not tired. I think I've been sleeping too much lately."
"You needed it."
Matt snorted. "Like you ever rest."
"I like to rest as much as the next guy." Matt, John figured, was still condemning himself for not being as tough as John. Which was stupid, because it wasn't like being tough had ever been John's goal in life. It just happened. He'd grown up in an area of Brooklyn, which wasn't the roughest, but which didn't allow for delicacy. Then he'd joined the force, encountering all sorts of garden variety criminals and disturbed individuals, before running a few notable times into highly organized mercenaries bent on robbery or freeing shady political leaders. Those sorts of things changed a man. He shifted from lying down to sitting up, dropping an arm around Matt's shoulders.
"What are you doing?" John asked lazily, resuming his stroking along Matt's shoulder and upper arm. He supposed it was sexist – if sexist was the right word – of him that he liked that Matt was smaller. Shorter, leaner, his shoulders less broad. He fit into John's arms well.
"Just reading some articles I saved to my hard drive. Since you don't have wireless."
"Should I get it?"
"You should probably get a computer first," Matt suggested pointedly.
"I meant for you. For when you're here."
John wasn't exactly sure what it meant to get wireless. Maybe he should ask one of the geeks in the tech squad. How did you order something that came through the air? However it was purchased, they'd need it full-time when Matt moved in.
"That's okay. I can usually pick up a signal from one of your neighbors.' Not everyone in this neighborhood is a dinosaur." Matt's attention was clearly on what he was reading, his eyes still on the screen, so John picked up his book from the nightstand, balancing it on one knee and thumbing it open to the turned down page, only managing to read a few lines before Matt spoke again. "Why are you reading a manual for a jet ski? Planning on a vacation? Or is this about conquering your fears of jet skis? Are they as scary for you as helicopters?"
"Nah. I just like to be prepared." Would Matt like to go on vacation together? Though John had never been a sun worshiper, a little time on a beach in Florida, one of those places where no one paid any attention to anyone else, could be great. He'd bet that Matt tanned well. His skin was the right shade to turn golden easily.
"To be prepared."
"Like a Boy Scout?"
"A Boy Scout couldn't leap into a semi and drive it. Those things aren't like driving a little automatic."
"So you just like to read manuals of machines you may need to operate, the next time you have to save the world?"
"I like to know how things work. Problem solving, it's one of those buzz words they like to use. What, don't you ever read manuals on that coding stuff?" Not that a semi could be learned from a manual. He'd freaking hated that stint that he'd spent driving trucks, but it had been a job when he'd needed one, and those skills had helped him save Lucy and Matt. Maybe that nutjob friend of Holly's who'd liked to rattle on about how everyone was a product of their experiences that led them where they needed to be hadn't been a complete fruitcake.
"Any manual written on what I get paid to do is obsolete by the time it can be printed."
"So how did you learn to do what you do?"
"I got degrees in Computer Science and Math, and then I figure things out myself. I get lots of ideas rattling around in my head. Talk to wizards like Freddie. Read boards, articles sometimes."
"No books? No manuals?"
Matt snorted again. "Books on the web are for old people who use AOL."
"Hey, I know a lot of people who use AOL."
"If you ever decide to get a computer, I'll build you one, and set you up on a system that's not designed for grannies."
John didn't want to reject Matt's offer but buying a computer was still far down on his list of ways to spend his money. A Florida vacation sounded far more interesting. Besides, he'd hardly need one once Matt moved in. "Thanks," he said absentmindedly, kissing Matt's neck. Matt obligingly tilted his head, exposing his skin to John's lips. "Besides everyone knows the Internet is for porn, and I don't need any with you."
"The Internet is for porn? You are such a dinosaur sometimes."
"Yeah, you know. Like the song from the musical."
Matt's stare questioned his sanity. "The musical? What musical?"
"Street Z or Avenue K or whatever. The one with the puppets."
"You watch musicals? You pay Broadway prices for musicals? Why do you keep denying you're gay?"
"I don't watch musicals. I took my mother for her birthday," John defended himself, not sure why he had to justify it. New York was famous for Broadway, and John loved everything about his city.
"Oh, your mom," Matt mocked, and John couldn't resist, curling his free hand around Matt's jaw, kissing his smile away, replacing it with an open mouth panting. "I didn't even know your mother was still alive," Matt finally said, regaining his breath.
"Yeah, she lives in an apartment complex for senior citizens. It's a pretty nice place. She's still active, plays bunco and junk. Dad died a couple of years ago. Heart attack."
"And she likes musicals?"
"She loves them. She used to watch Gordon MacRae and Howard Keel any time they were on television. That was when you had to watch something when it aired."
"Thank god I was born in the Reagan years," Matt said with another cheeky grin, and he so totally was making fun of John being old that John had to kiss him again, smothering the words from his mouth, until the jetski manual fell off his thigh and Matt finally squirmed away with a yelp of, "My laptop!" He caught it before it fell off the bed, clutching it protectively to his chest.
"Come on, tell me the truth," John said, curving his hand again around Matt's upper thigh. His skin was warm under the covers. "The Internet is for porn, isn't it?"
"The Internet is changing the entire fabric of our society and our entire world. How we relate to each other as people, how we do business – "
"How much porn have you downloaded onto your computer?"
Gotcha. Matt blushed, not a true blush, but a definite flush on his cheekbones and he did that little ducking of his head that made his hair swing forward, obscuring his eyes. "I didn't say I downloaded porn. I do all kinds of things on the Internet."
"Yeah, but you download porn too." He moved his hand higher, closer to Matt's cock. "Show me your favorites."
"You are so tacky."
"I'm tacky? I'm not the one with porn on my computer. Come on, show me."
"You don't have a computer to have porn on. You probably have dirty magazines hidden somewhere. Oh god, videotapes. You do, don't you?" Matt said triumphantly, and John did not flush. He didn't. Matt was just getting good at reading him too.
"You show me yours, I'll show you mine," John offered, and now he did clasp Matt's cock, giving it a long stroke.
"You probably like porn full of lesbians with big tits," Matt muttered, but he arched his hips, instinctively offering himself.
"I could be persuaded to like something with more variety," John suggested, biting at Matt's nipple, indicating what kind of variety he'd like.
"This is a bad idea."
"Why?" John asked bluntly, surprised at Matt's seriousness. "We're having sex."
"That doesn't mean we share tastes in porn."
"So what if we don't? I don't even have a computer and you don't watch football."
"It's not the same."
"It's exactly the same. Come on." He took advantage of having a hold on Matt, jerking him slowly and smoothly, rubbing the head. "Show me."
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Matt warned, but he positioned the laptop so they could both see the screen, balancing it on his knees, opening a file directory and clicking on a file, apparently at random. A guy was on his knees, giving another guy a blowjob, both of them semi-dressed, like they couldn't wait to get naked.
John watched a bit, feeling Matt sneaking glances at him. His first time watching gay porn, and who would have thought he'd still be having first times at his age? "They're better looking than most porn stars," he said finally, for they were, good-looking guys in their 20s, more attractive than most of the guys in regular porn.
"They're not professionals. I don't pay for porn."
"Where do you get it then?"
"I download from the Internet. From free sites."
"Seriously? People just do that for free? Film themselves and put it on the web?"
"Sure, why not?" Matt shrugged. "I keep telling you, the Internet is revolutionizing the world. It'll change commerce and economics forever."
"Yeah, and someone somewhere is making downloading all this free stuff and making big bucks off it. China or Russia at least."
"I'm beginning to believe I should edit Wikipedia to add your picture under the definition of cynic."
Wikipedia? "I've known a lot of criminals. People take any advantage you let them." He kissed Matt's temple, almost in apology. "Blowjobs are good. Show me something else."
The file closed and another opened, two guys again, and Matt had said he was a bisexual but was all his porn gay? Or was he picking the gay stuff to make a point? These guys were both good-looking again and both fully naked, one on his hands and knees on a bed, the other behind him, and… "What the hell is he doing?"
"He's rimming him."
"He's licking his asshole!"
"Yes, that would be the definition of rimming," Matt said, but his tone was matter of fact.
"You like this?"
"He's licking his asshole!"
"I told you this was a bad idea."
"Do you like doing that?"
Matt gave him one of those sideways glances and John could almost see the mental calculation, how honest do I be? He hated that look because he might be old enough to be Matt's dad, but he didn't want to be treated like someone Matt had to be careful around.
"Yeah, I like it. Both ways."
"Okay." He took Matt's laptop out of his hands, shutting it and setting it on the nightstand, dumping his manual on top.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to give it a try."
"You don’t have to. Just because I like something doesn't mean you have to try it."
"I want to."
"Look, really, I don't want you to feel you have to."
"I don't do anything in bed because I feel I have to," John answered flatly. "Now are you going to roll over or do I have to flip you?"
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Matt grumbled, but he rolled over, scooting down to lie fully on the bed. John pushed the covers down, exposing the long line of Matt's body.
"I could do it to you first. There's no reason – "
"Shut up," John ordered, and Matt emitted a little sigh that sounded like 'if you regret this, don't blame me,' but John ignored him, cupping his ass and giving it a gentle squeeze before using his grip to separate the cheeks, exposing the wrinkled hole. For a millisecond, he debated backing down. It wasn't like Matt was pushing for it. But John didn't back down from anything, never had, never would. Backing down meant you got beat up or vulnerable people got killed. And what the hell, it wasn't like he'd never dealt with other odd erogenous zones. Vaginas had seemed decidedly unappealing at first. Yeah, great for sticking your dick in, but up close and personal? Hairy and wet and searching for the clitoris had been just freaky. The satisfying part had always been the girl's reaction. That was what made the whole experience enjoyable and worth repeating until he got used to it. He licked quickly before he could dwell on what he was doing, dragging his tongue along the crack and over the hole.
Matt gave another sigh, a better one, so John repeated the swipe, slower this time. A third sigh and Matt relaxed, settling in comfortably on the bed, his legs spreading.
The acceptance made John grin. No, he wasn't an asshole in the bedroom, and he'd soon figure out all about this rimming stuff.
Lying between Matt's legs, his head and chest raised up by his elbows, hands holding Matt's hips, he set to work. Long, lingering licks and quick flicks of his tongue, insistently invading the tight muscle, using his hands to cup and massage, and exploring every damn variation and gesture he could imagine or remember from the porn vid.
As best he could tell, Matt enjoyed it all. His lithe body squirmed restlessly against the sheets as much as John's hold would allow, and his first few sighs deepened into a series of breathy moans, porn noises if John had ever heard them.
"Hand me the lube," John demanded finally, because his dick was hard as steel, begging to drive into Matt's luscious hole.
Matt obeyed instantly though not without a grumbled, half-hearted, "About time," tossing a condom at him too. Kneeling between Matt's thighs, John rolled the condom on and slicked up his fingers, pushing two into Matt's hole, finding it easier after his tongue had already stretched it.
Matt tucked his thighs under him, raising his ass, head sideways on the bed, making his body a triangle. John studied his face, the disheveled hair, the flush on his cheeks, the open mouth, his lips reddened from biting them, but most importantly, the passion and need in his dark eyes.
"You really liked that," he said, inserting another finger, twisting all three.
"You are the master of understatement," Matt breathed out.
Holding Matt's hips and lining up his dick, John tugged him back, impaling him steadily.
"It feels good?" John didn't let himself move, staying still, bringing Matt to him, pushing him away, controlling Matt's body.
"Better than being fucked?" Even as he talked, he kept moving Matt's body, his eyes darting between the expression on Matt's profile and the sheer hotness of his dick plunging in and out of Matt's sweet ass, the small hole stretched to fit his thickness.
"You want comparisons?" Matt wailed.
Despite the need in Matt's voice, he didn't try to change the pace. He didn't push back, letting John handle his body. Perhaps he knew fighting would only result in John making him wait more.
"Yeah. I want a comparison."
"Asshole." Matt brought his hands under him, lifting his torso. Doggy style, yeah, and John was the top dog here. Missing Matt's profile was the only loss, as his head hung down, exposing the vulnerable of his neck. "Fucking. Both. Sucking you. Christ. I don't – I don't know. It's all hot. You're hot. I'll make you a spreadsheet. Later."
"Best you've known?"
"Fuck yes," was the instant sincere response, making John lean forward, releasing Matt's hips and bracing his hands on the bed, his hips snapping forward and back, fucking Matt hard and quick, needing to get off, no longer able to delay.
Then Matt was coming, shaking under him, his ass clenching on John's dick, moaning louder than a porn star, his pleasure forcing John into his own, his eyes losing focus as he emptied himself into Matt.
After a while of lying together, John sprawled on top of Matt, neither of them able to move, Matt muttered, "It's going to take a month to get through all my vid files if we keep this up."
John kissed Matt's shoulder blade. "Move in with me. We can do this every night."
Matt twisted enough to see John's face. "Are you serious?"
"Sure," John answered, but he finally pulled out of Matt, using the excuse of dealing with the condom to look away, not wanting to see Matt's face if it shifted into denial.
"You want me to live with you? 24/7?"
"What other way is there to live together? We can set up an office for you in the other bedroom," John offered, returning to the bed, sliding next to Matt.
"Have you considered how abysmally disastrous this could be?"
"Yeah, because it's been so difficult so far," John sniped, not sure why Matt thought was arguing. Matt had thought they shouldn't watch porn together and that had turned out well. John bet the future vids would turn out well too. He'd make sure they did. "You don't want to keep living in New Jersey, do you? New York is better."
"You're not asking me to live in Brooklyn. You're asking me to live with you," Matt corrected.
"So? Will you?" John decided that Matt would say yes, because he wasn't sure what he would do if he said no.
"I pay my share of the expenses. None of this you pay for everything nonsense."
"Sure. Of course." Not like the money mattered. He'd still control the bills though, since everything was in his name.
"You're really, really serious, aren't you?"
"Yes, I'm really, really serious. So are you saying yes?" Of course he was. He had to.
"Yeah," Matt smiled, and it was his nice, genuinely happy smile, the one that always made Matt look a little shy. "Yes, I guess I am."
"Good. That's good." He tugged Matt toward him, cuddling them together. "Let's take a nap now."
"Sure. Old guys need their rest," Matt murmured in his ear, but he curled into John, giving a low laugh as John pinched him for his impudence.
~ the end ~