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Twenty

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After the cameras, and the fans, after fame, and after his brown hair fades to gray and his gray starts going white, Jon Stewart still loves Stephen Colbert.

Twenty years and he still wakes Stephen up with a shower of kisses, until he’s being kissed back, slow and sleepy and perfect. Some mornings, that’s all they do, too busy for anything else. Today, neither of them have anywhere to be, and Jon wants Stephen the way he’s always wanted him. The way he wanted him twenty years ago, when they were still young and energetic and foolhardy. The way he wanted him yesterday, when they sat in the kitchen and drank coffee and did the crossword together bathed in the winter sun.

“You’re thinking too much,” Stephen says, pulling Jon’s gray t-shirt up and off. Jon smiles and kisses him again before returning the favor. The bed is warm enough that he doesn’t miss the shirt, especially not when Stephen makes his way down John’s chest, licking and teasing as he goes. He lets Jon pull him back up to kiss on the mouth again, settling into Jon’s arms, so they are pressed together, skin against skin.

It takes longer these days, but longer means more kissing, more touching, and Jon’s pretty sure that that’s a fair trade. Stephen’s hands on his skin, his on Stephen’s. Twenty years ago, a quickie in Jon’s office would actually be quick. Twenty years ago, Stephen could kneel under Jon’s desk and get up again after without pain. These days they stick with the bed, it’s easier on all their joints.

Stephen reaches around him to grab the lube from the nightstand, slicking his hand, before grasping both their cocks, together. Jon moans at the contact, and Stephen laughs which makes Jon laugh, too.

“I can’t help it, your face does me in,” Stephen says, and starts a rhythm with his hand, not waiting for Jon to stop laughing. Twenty years of laughing on camera, off camera and in bed, and neither of them have mastered the art of not laughing when the other is. Jon’s pretty much written it off as an impossible task.

He can, however, be distracted out of laughing, which Stephen is doing a damn good job of now. The wet slide of Stephen’s cock against his, his fist wrapped around them both, and Jon’s laughter reverts back to moans. Stephen’s not laughing now either, instead his watching Jon as intensely as he always does when they’re like this, like he doesn’t want to miss a single minute.

Jon kisses him then, all tongue and fierce love. Stephen smiles into kiss before kissing back just as intently. He speeds up the rhythm of his hand as well, dragging groans out of both of them. Jon comes first, arching into Stephen hand. It sets Stephen off, and he comes, too.

They lay there entwined with one another for a long moment, and Jon enjoys this part almost as much as the rest. He’d stay here forever, if there wasn’t a chance that he’d be permanently adhered to Stephen. Not that he wasn’t already, he just preferred his adhesives to be metaphorical and not literal.

“Go forth and shower. I can already hear you thinking about glue,” Stephen says, and attempts to push him out of bed.

“Your attempts at telepathy are creepy,” Jon teases right back.

“You know you love it,” Stephen says and kisses him again.

“I do, and you, too,” Jon says, and kisses him back.