Somewhere around date four or date five, John pokes through Chris's nightstand a little more thoroughly than usual. Sure, he knows it's where Chris keeps the condoms, but what else does he have thrown in there?
He finds lube--right, he knew about the lube--and a pretty voluminous stash of unlubed condoms. Knew about those, too. He also finds a box of medical-grade latex gloves, and some dental dams. Huh.
"Find something you like?"
John glances up; Chris is out of the shower, one towel slung low on his hips while he dries his hair with another. "More like feeling guilty," he admits, digging a glove out of the box and holding it up. "I didn't realize you were this big on safety, man--you should have told me. I'd have been happy to use gloves or wear a rubber while you're going down on me or whatever." Rimming. Maybe the dental dams are for rimming. God, there's all kinds of precautions they haven't been taking.
But Chris is shaking his head, eyebrows drawn together slightly, expression shut down. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."
"Dude, no, I'm not gonna not worry about it. If it makes you feel better to be safer, we should be going with it."
"John." Chris finishes drying his hair off and slings the towel over his shoulder. "I'm fine with how we've been playing it. And I seriously want you to drop it now."
John frowns, but he nods. "Okay," he says. "Your call. Just let me know if that changes, all right?"
Worse and worse. Chris heads back for the bathroom, and the door shuts a little louder than it really needed to. John looks down at the glove in his hand and shakes his head. They're your gloves, dude--what's the matter with you?
He puts the glove away, though, and when Chris comes back to bed--dressed in t-shirt and boxers, wearing his glasses, book in hand--John sighs and snaps the lamp off, rolling over on his side. So much for actually using any of the stuff in that drawer tonight. Whatever. You want to get weird on me, that's your call, too.
* * *
In the morning, John wakes up to the sensation of something tickling his ear. He's also got someone curled up behind him, and as he shakes off the grogginess of sleep, he realizes the tickling sensation is Chris, nibbling his earlobe, and Chris is spooned up behind him. The t-shirt and boxers he came to bed in are gone, and John can feel Chris's hard-on pressing against his ass.
"Hey," John mumbles.
"Hey yourself," Chris murmurs back. "We got time. You wanna?"
"Mmm... just woke up, dude."
"So you lie there and I'll do everything. Relax."
John rolls over onto his back; Chris reaches past him to the nightstand. He gets a condom, gets the lube; John takes the condom and fumbles it on while Chris gets his fingers slick and pushes them into his ass. John pauses for a minute just to watch that; Chris isn't graceful, doesn't make it an art form like some of the guys John's been with, but he looks like this is something he's done a million times, and that, in and of itself, is hot.
Chris swings a leg over John's thighs and straddles his cock; John lifts it up into position, and Chris sinks down on it, exhaling softly through his teeth as he goes. John's toes curl; having Chris on him like this when he's still half-asleep is like having an erotic dream, slow and quiet, eyes closing now and then as he drifts off into pure sensation. He comes more and more awake as Chris keeps going, though, and as the fog lifts off completely, he slides his hands up Chris's arms and squeezes his shoulders, pulling him down a little harder.
"Hey. My show, remember?" Chris grins, gently moving John's hands back down to his sides, and then he leans forward, bracing himself on John's chest. He slows down, way down, drawing himself up slowly, sinking back onto John's cock and then rocking his hips forward when he's got all of it in him again. John's eyes slip closed, and he reaches up to run his hands up Chris's arms, tracing the contours of his muscles. He'd know Chris's body anywhere.
When Chris picks up speed, John wraps his hands around Chris's biceps and holds on for the ride. Chris gets quicker and quicker, rougher by the minute, and if John were slamming down on Chris that hard, it'd hurt. Instead, he's got Chris driving him toward the edge, ratcheting up the sensation with every deep thrust, and when Chris takes an arm off John's chest so he can jerk off, John grabs Chris by the hips and shoves up hard. He squeezes his eyes shut as he comes, and moments later, Chris lets out a soft groan, and his come streaks out across John's chest.
John blinks his eyes open and laughs; Chris raises both eyebrows, lips parted, still panting for breath.
"Another couple inches and you'd be hitting my face," John says. "That'd be hot."
Chris grins back at him.
"Maybe next time," he says. He winces as he climbs off John, and then he's off to the shower.
* * *
When John thinks about it later, he drops his face into his palm and grimaces at himself. That was smart. He's got a boyfriend with enough latex to have a hundred-person safe-sex orgy, and he talks about facials? Nice work, John.
So the next time he's in Chris's room and they're getting down to business, he opens up a condom with his teeth and slips it into his mouth, and before Chris can say whahuh?, he's sliding that condom down Chris's cock using nothing but his mouth. Chris groans all the way down, sliding his hands into John's hair, but before John can do much more than bob up and down on his cock, Chris pulls him away.
"What are you doing?"
John frowns. "I was just--"
"You were what, catering to the guy with the safety issues? No thanks." Chris grimaces. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I don't mean to be a dick--"
"No, but that's just it--I don't mean to be a dick, either, and if this is what you want, I'm happy to do it--"
"God, not that again." Chris digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, threads his fingers into his hair and holds on tight for a minute. "Look, it's not about safety. I already said that."
"So what, then? You've got enough latex to run your own clinic--"
Chris looks up at John. He looks angry, which isn't something John's seen very often, and it makes John sit up straighter, pull back. He wishes to hell he still had his clothes on. "I get off on latex. Okay? I have it around because I like it. I'm not a fucking germophobe, and I don't have it around just to have safe sex. I fucking like how it feels and how it tastes and it gets me off."
John blinks at him. "Okay," he says slowly. "I didn't know that. But there's nothing wrong with wanting to be safe--"
"I--what? What the fuck are you talking about now?"
"You said you're not a germophobe, and I just meant--it's okay to use things that make sex safer, it's not a problem--"
"Yes, I'm aware of that, I get that, but I really don't need you catering to baggage I don't have, either. And I don't want you to sit there wondering why I don't want to touch you, because trust me, that's not it."
"I never said that--"
"You--no." Chris shakes his head. "No, you didn't. I'm sorry."
"So look--it's a totally harmless thing." Chris's head snaps back around, and his eyebrows are drawing together. "I mean, it's not like I'm offended, I don't have a problem with--"
That's enough for Chris; he rolls his eyes and strips the condom off his dick. "Great. Thanks."
But he doesn't. He's off to the bathroom again, door shutting hard behind him. John grabs the nearest pillow off the bed and covers his face with it, falling backwards onto the bed. Yeah, that went well, he thinks.
It's about five seconds before that thought's followed by He gets off on latex? Really?, and that one sticks around, even after Chris comes back and they curl up in bed with their books.
* * *
Two minutes alone in a bathroom; this is, sometimes, what it boils down to, and it's always been kind of exciting--clothes tugged out of place, somebody's mouth gliding down fast and hot, the explosive, desperate motions of a no-holds-barred, quick-as-you-can blowjob.
"Wait, wait, I've got--" John fishes a condom out of his pocket, one of the lube-free ones Chris likes, and there's no reason not to, it'd take three seconds to get it on him, but Chris grabs the condom out of John's hand and throws it on the floor, out of reach. John doesn't have time to protest, because Chris grabs him by the hips and jerks him forward, teeth scraping down the sides of John's cock, John's cock hitting the back of Chris's throat, and John gasps and buries his hands in Chris's hair, biting his lip to keep from groaning.
Chris goes at a breakneck pace, slamming his mouth down on John's cock over and over, and John forgets all about the condom and just rides Chris's mouth for all he's worth, eyes narrowed into slits as Chris's lips stretch wide, glistening with saliva--this is messy as hell, and that's half the appeal.
John comes with a growl, holding Chris still, and when he's done, Chris pushes back and away, scraping his teeth against John's cock again in the process. He shoots to his feet and kisses John hard, and John can taste his come on Chris's tongue.
"You are so fucking hot," John pants.
"Thanks," Chris murmurs; there's a little laughter and a little smugness in his voice.
"I just, I would've--why didn't you want the condom?"
Chris groans, head rolling back, eyes shutting. "Would you get off that already? The way we do things is fine--"
"But it isn't what gets you off."
"Oh, Jesus, come on." Chris grabs John's hand and presses it to his crotch; John can feel Chris's erection under his pants. "You don't think I got off on that? You think I need my latex fix to get hard? What the fuck do you think we've been doing this past month?"
"I--no, I didn't mean that, I just don't get why you don't want to--with me--I mean, I'm trying to say, I'm interested--"
"And I'm trying to say back off. Okay?" Chris pulls away from John altogether and runs his hands through his hair; luckily, it's short enough John didn't knock it very far out of order. "Just--back off."
He leaves before John can say "all right", and it's just as well; John didn't really want to say it.
* * *
"So I've got a hypothetical for you," John tells Karl.
"Go for it."
"Say I know somebody who's into something kind of--" He pauses, looking for the right word. Karl raises an eyebrow at him, which cracks John up; it's just such a good expression. "Unusual."
"Kinky," Karl fills in, stabbing at his salad with his fork. "Yeah?"
"It's just--so he told me about it, and then he says he doesn't want to talk about it." Karl nods. "Except now I really want to do something with it. And I mean--I don't get it. I'm interested, he already said it gets him off, what's the problem here?"
"Hypothetically," Karl adds.
"Well." Karl takes a drink and then crunches through another bite of salad. "How did you feel about this kink before he told you about it?"
John shrugs. "Never really thought about it, I guess."
"Never thought about it as in it's something you'd never heard of, or never thought about it like that?"
"I don't know. Kind of both." John sighs. "It's--okay, hypothetically again, suppose somebody has a leather fetish. And you own plenty of leather, you've got a jacket, you've got a belt, you've got boots, whatever. It's just--you never really thought about them as something somebody might get off on before. But now you are thinking about it, and you think, well, fuck, I'll wear the boots and the jacket and he can sniff them to his heart's content--I'd love to see him getting off on them."
"Pinewood sniffing your boots? You're not the only one who wants to see that."
John glares at Karl, who's hiding a grin behind his soda can. "I really was being hypothetical with that last thing."
"Ohhh, no, no, I understand. So he's got a kink for something, and you want to watch him getting off on it."
Karl grabs a cherry tomato out of his salad and tosses it at John. It bounces right off John's forehead; John grabs a napkin and wipes off the splash of salad dressing it left behind. "What is he, a dog-and-pony show? He's your lover, you wanker, not a performing sea lion."
John's face falls, and he winces as he sits back in his chair. "I didn't even think about it like that..."
"Let me ask you. Do you have something you don't do on the first date? Or something you wouldn't want Pine to watch you doing?"
"I don't--like what?"
Karl shrugs. "Whatever. Jerking off in front of him, maybe."
"We've done that."
"Well, use your fucking imagination, then. You've got a thing you like, and you think he's going to laugh at you if you tell him."
"I didn't laugh--"
Karl flings another forkful of salad at John; this time he mostly manages to dodge.
"Whatever. It's something that, for whatever reason, you're not all right with just telling him up-front; he has to weasel it out of you. And then all of a sudden he wants to watch you doing it."
John still can't imagine being into something he wouldn't tell Chris about, but he shrugs anyway. "Okay."
"Maybe he just wants to share something with you because it gets you off. Or maybe he's curious how that kind of kink works, and you get to be his test subject. Maybe he's on the fence about whether it's kinky or just downright weird, and what you do with it is gonna convince him one way or the other. Whatever. It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye. Or until somebody says, 'Jesus, you're such a bloody freak; what's the matter with you?'"
"I would never--"
"Yeah?" There's that eyebrow again. "So this thing of his--you didn't treat it like a novelty? You didn't go into the song and dance about how it doesn't mean you don't respect him because you don't disapprove of it?"
"What's wrong with saying there's nothing wrong with it? I don't think there's anything wrong with it--"
"So you don't think your boyfriend's pathological. I'm sure that's a compliment he'll want inscribed on his tombstone."
"I just, I don't get it--"
"Do you know what it's like hearing that something's freaky right up 'til the point where the other guy wants to do it? And then it's, 'oh, spanking! great!', or 'oh, thumb cuffs, fantastic!', but before that it was, 'why would anyone want to do that?'"
John flinches. Karl sighs and shakes his head, stabbing at his salad.
"Sorry, mate. Just been there."
"Well, I kind of thought--I mean, that was why I wanted to talk to you about it. I thought you might have some good advice..."
"Talking hadn't occurred to you?"
"Oh, it occurred, believe me, but--I wasn't sure how to say, 'hey, I'd never heard of that, but I've jerked off thinking about it four times in the last week'..." Karl grins broadly, and John covers his face with his palm. "Shit. That was more information than you needed, wasn't it?"
"No no no, not at all." Karl's still grinning. "And I'll grant you, he's not the easiest bloke in the world to talk to." He screws up his face, looking thoughtful. "You could try apologizing. If it were me, I'd confess to something I don't usually talk about liking, just so he'd know I understood where he was coming from, but then I've got a thousand kinks I wouldn't talk about in polite company."
"If I can get him to sit still long enough, I might be able to go with the apology."
"Sit on him." Karl grins. "In the literal sense. Tell him you don't have to talk about his kink, but you're sorry for being a prat about it." He sobers up for a minute, though, and he puts his fork down. "You realize you might not get what you want out of this. He might just not want to do whatever it is with you. Or he might not be ready to do it with you right now. Either way. Can you handle it if it turns out that way?"
"Yeah," John murmurs. "I don't--you know, I don't mind if we don't do anything with it. I just want to see him happy."
Karl reaches across the table and smacks John on the side of the head. As John's yelping and flinching back, Karl says, "Say that. For the love of God, man, he's not a mindreader."
"Okay! Fine!" John rubs at his head. "Ow. You hit pretty hard, you know that?"
"So I've been told. God, I'm going to be trying to figure out what Pine's kink is for the rest of the week." Karl sits back and gets a mock-dreamy look on his face. "It's really not the boots?"
"No," John says. He grins at Karl. "Thanks, though."
* * *
Sit on him, Karl said, so instead of going for Chris's zipper, John pulls him over to the bed. They're both still fully-dressed, and Chris gives John a suspicious look, but he lets John straddle his thighs, lets John lace his fingers into Chris's.
"I'm an asshole," John says. Chris's eyebrows shoot straight up, and John squeezes his hands. "And I'm probably apologizing like an asshole, but I still want you to hear me on this."
"Well, it's one of the more unusual apologies I've gotten," Chris admits, "but okay. Spill it."
"First off--I'm sorry I made you feel defensive about your latex kink."
Chris's hands go slack in John's, and his expression shuts down again. "Okay."
"I'm sorry I came across like I was telling you what kinks are okay to have. Or that my approval is the most important thing about it."
"And I'm sorry for pressuring you to act on it with me. If I made you feel like a lab rat, I'm sorry."
"A lab rat...?"
"An experiment. Something on display."
Chris sighs and looks away; he tugs at John's hands, but not hard enough to actually go anywhere. John keeps his grip on Chris's fingers, and Chris gives up after a second, but he still doesn't look back at John. "The thing is," Chris murmurs, "I get that it's not a mainstream, fun little kink, you know? Most guys, the condom's still just this thing you put up with for safety's sake. It's not like, I don't know, tickling or bondage or spanking."
John stays quiet, but he nods; maybe Chris can see it out of the corner of his eye.
"So I'm used to latex in general being treated like this necessary evil, this big inconvenience, the thing you've gotta have around or else nobody gets fucked, something people associate with shitty doctor's appointments, whatever. And I'm used to people who want to ditch the gloves or the condoms as fast as possible."
John nods again, squeezing Chris's hands; Chris squeezes back.
"When you said it's okay if I want to be safer--'germophobe' is not the worst thing I've been called when people find out. And let's be honest here, the shit I've taken over having a kink for latex--" Chris pauses. "It's just--do you remember what you said at first? That it was totally harmless?"
"So there's two things wrong with that--one, it felt like you were saying, 'oh, hey, it's not a harmful kink, might as well humor the guy'--but God, who wants to be humored in bed? Really."
John winces. "I get that, man," he says quietly. "I really do."
"And two, so, okay, the gloves and the condoms and the dental dams are harmless, great. You realize there's about three hundred other things in the general category of 'latex'?" John's eyes go a little wide, and Chris nods; point made. "You ever stop to think that maybe latex isn't the only think I have a kink for? That maybe some of the things I'm into aren't harmless?"
By now, Chris is the one holding onto John's hands; John's not trying to pull away, but Chris is definitely supporting him--it's not the other way around. John nods, unable to come up with anything else to say.
"So, you know, yeah, it's my thing, but--it doesn't have to be yours, and we don't have to play that way. And it's fine. But I don't want to be humored. And I don't want to worry about what you think is harmless and what's going to scare you. I sure as fuck don't want to sit here getting off on something you think is a necessary evil. It's either good for us both or I want no part of it."
"Or you want no part of it with me," John says quietly.
Chris looks away again. "I'm not going anywhere," he murmurs. He looks back at John. "But I don't expect us to have every kink in common, either."
John rocks back and forth, just a little, on Chris's thighs. "So how do I let you know it could be good for both of us? Can you take my word on it that I want to play around with it?"
"Because of me." Chris looks back at John, one eyebrow up. "And you like fucking around with me, so why not give it a whirl?"
"Because I've spent the last week thinking about it. And I think it could be hot." It was easy firing off his mouth at Karl and admitting how much he'd been jerking off to thoughts about Chris and latex, but here with Chris, John doesn't want to say it. He remembers Karl asking Do you know what it's like hearing that something's freaky right up 'til the point where the other guy wants to do it?, and he can imagine it now; he can imagine what it'd be like for Chris hearing that. "And yeah, you enjoying it would make it better for me; I didn't think of latex as something you could have a kink for until you said so. But I don't think I'm humoring you. I think I just want to share." John squeezes Chris's hands. "Everybody has to start somewhere."
Chris nods at that; he nods a few times before he finally says something. "I'll think about it. In the meantime..." He raises his eyebrows. "Can we go back to life as usual?"
"Yeah." John lowers himself down on top of Chris and rubs noses with him. "We can definitely do that."
* * *
It's a perfectly ordinary Wednesday night, and John's down to just his socks. Chris is on top of him, kissing him, and he slides down John's body, taking long, slow licks over his chest, down his ribs, over his stomach, but when he gets to John's cock, he pauses and looks up.
"You still wanna try this?" Chris asks, and it takes John a few second to figure out what he means. When he gets it, though, his eyes go wide, and he yanks the drawer open, grabbing for a condom. He passes it down to Chris, who opens it up and slips the condom into his mouth.
There's nothing obvious about Chris's reaction, nothing that makes it seem like he's going to lose all control of himself just because he's tasting latex, but he slides his mouth down over John's cock with a warm, practiced glide that John couldn't have managed in a thousand years. The condom's the last thing on John's mind now; he's got Chris all over him, his mouth tight on John's cock, and as John's watching, Chris comes all the way up, tongue moving back and forth against his cock as he draws his mouth back.
"Holy shit, Chris," John says, voice choked.
Chris looks up at him, lips around the head of John's cock, and there's something about the latex--and yeah, the novelty of it--that makes this all seem different, special, exciting as all hell. Chris was right; it's not about safety. And when he slides back down, tongue flicking up against the underside of John's cock, John groans, falling back against the pillows. He's pretty sure all the blood in his body's gone straight to his cock; he can almost feel his pulse beating under the latex, and he wonders if Chris can, too.
Chris pulls back, slides his tongue around the tip of John's cock, and it doesn't look pornographic so much as--John curls forward, reaching out blindly for Chris's hair, sinking his hand in so he can hold Chris still. It looks like John feels when he's giving really good head: utterly fucking selfish. Chris takes his time, laps at every inch of John's cock, puts his hand at the base of it to steady it and then goes down hard and fast, damn near fucking his own throat on John's cock, and John gasps out loud and grabs Chris by the shoulder.
"Stopstopstop," he pants; Chris backs off immediately. "Fuck. Oh, fuck, you're hot."
"So are you," Chris says. He licks his lips. "Can I go again?"
"No. Get on your back. Right here." John sits up and jerks a thumb at the bed beside him; as Chris comes up the bed, John grabs a glove out of the drawer and snaps it on, smoothing it out. It's just a little big--Chris's hands are bigger than John's, as John's noticed in more ways than one--but it'll work just fine for this. He grabs the lube, too, and kneels in between Chris's thighs.
Chris is grinning at him, knees pointing up, legs spread apart, and when John slicks up two fingers and presses them into Chris's ass, Chris groans, too. He puts his hands behind his knees and pulls his knees toward his chest, biting down on his lower lip as John twists his fingers back and forth.
"Good?" John says, curling his first two fingers forward, then twisting them back and forth. Chris goes incoherent, turning his head from side to side. John frowns at that--it doesn't look like a no, but he puts his free hand on Chris's thigh. "Hey," he murmurs. "Is this good?"
"Yes, it's fucking good, and if you stop now I will fucking kill you," Chris pants, eyes planted solidly on the ceiling. "Come on, come on..."
John twists his fingers back and forth some more; he's starting to realize that it's different, prepping Chris like this--that it's not really about prepping him at all. He's pushing his fingers into Chris's body for the sensation, the muted heat of Chris's body surrounding his fingers, the way the slick glide of John's fingers must be even more slippery and even and maybe even soft than it usually is.
Still not about safety. John grins at himself for that. You thought he had a safety fetish. He pushes a third finger into Chris's ass, and Chris makes a soft pleading sound, stretching his knees even closer to his chest.
"Yeah?" John murmurs. He wiggles all three fingers, draws them back, starts twisting them back and forth again. Chris growls low and long in the back of his throat, and John grins down at him. "Yeah. Come on. That's it--"
"Son of a bitch," Chris pants. "Are you going to fuck me or just--" John drives his fingers into Chris's ass, hard; Chris's voice cracks. "--just, fuck--" He pants for a few seconds; John starts pushing in hard, making each stroke quick. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, c'mon, fuck me, fuck me--"
"Yeah," John says, growling too now, and he drags his fingers out of Chris's ass so he can get his cock in place instead. "You ready--"
"Fuck me or I will kill you in your sleep," Chris growls, and John laughs, laughs at Chris's desperate expression as he drives forward hard, burying his cock in Chris's body and moaning as the heat washes over him. "Oh, God," Chris moans, "oh, God, okay, okay, you don't have to die, just--just fuck me, now, hard, now, c'mon--"
"What does this feel like, asshole?" John says, curling his hands around the fronts of Chris's thighs and shoving forward again. Chris gasps and looks down, looks at pale ivory of that glove, still on John's hand, and he reaches down, laces his fingers through John's.
"More," Chris says, and John picks up the pace, but fuck, he didn't think this position out when he first got started; his back's already hurting and he's going to collapse on Chris if he stays like this, and that's not what he's after.
"Wait." John squeezes Chris's thigh and comes to a stop. "Hang on."
"Hang--are you kidding me?" Chris reaches up, knocks the sweat off his forehead. He groans when John pulls out, but John's just going over to the edge of the bed, and he tugs Chris along with him. "Oh, right, yeah, yes--"
"Yes," John agrees, and now that Chris is at the edge of the bed and John's on his feet, John has the leverage to push in as hard as he wants to--as hard as Chris wants him to--and run his latex-covered hand up and down Chris's inner thigh.
Chris falls back on the bed and eggs John on, as if John really needs the encouragement. "More--harder--Jesus, yeah, faster, fuck me, I'm not gonna break--"
John goes in deep and quick and sharp when Chris says that, and Chris yelps, body going rigid; John backs off immediately. "Sorry--"
"No, just, okay, I forgot," Chris says, laughing, "I forgot you were--well, God, don't stop--"
It works up a sweat, fucking somebody this hard; it's rough on the back and the thighs and the ass, too, but John doesn't really have room to complain about his ass hurting, not when it comes down to it.
He leans over Chris a little more, and Chris stretches up, getting a hand behind John's neck. John manages to kiss him, barely, but the angle's awkward and they lose it after a second or two.
"Yeah," Chris growls, spreading his hands out and sinking his fingers into the covers.
"Chris. Give me the lube."
"The--" It's right by Chris's right thigh, so he grabs it and hands it over. He doesn't realize what John has in mind until John flips the cap open and drizzles lube all over his hand, all over the hand that's still gloved. There's lube everywhere now, all over Chris and John's hands and the bed, but John can worry about being pretty later; right now he's got a handful of lube and he slicks it over Chris's cock, twisting hard under the head.
Chris nearly comes off the bed, eyes slamming shut tight. "Fuck!"
"Come on, come on, come for me, I wanna see it--"
The way Chris looks, John doesn't think he could stop himself even if he wanted to. His hands grasp the covers so hard his knuckles go white, and he comes so hard John can feel the clench and grip of his ass all the way down the length of his cock. John's the one with the condom, not Chris, and so Chris's come streaks up and over Chris's chest, dribbles down his stomach and falls over John's fingers, dripping down to his thigh; it's an incredible sticky mess, and seeing it does John in. He squeezes Chris's cock and gasps, finally letting Chris's cock go so he can grab both of Chris's thighs and shove in as hard as he can, over and over until he's spent and sweating, leaning hard against Chris for all the support he can get. His throat hurts the way it always does after awesome sex, which means he was probably yelling loud enough to be heard three rooms down; he hopes nobody's home.
Chris is the first one to get sounds out afterwards; he laughs, low and hoarse, breath just panting out of him. John grimaces and winces as he pulls back, and he collapses on the bed next to Chris, cock and hand still covered in latex. There's so much come and sweat and lube all over him he might need to wash his hand before he can even get the glove off. He doesn't really mind.
Chris rolls over and nuzzles John's chest. "You were," he mumbles. "That was..."
"Good?" John covers a yawn with the back of his hand--the back of his clean hand. Chris whacks him on the side of the arm.
"Yeah, I come like that for sex that's just good." Chris laughs again. "Thanks."
"Oh, is this what we're doing now?" John blinks his eyes open and forces himself to concentrate on Chris's face. Talk. Make words. Come on. "We're gonna start thanking each other for sex?"
"Not just the sex," Chris says, rolling his eyes. "For talking me into this."
"You think I could talk you into it again?"
"Twist my arm."
"If that's what it takes."
Chris chuckles and scoots up just enough so he can kiss John. John kisses back, and he ends up chuckling, too, against Chris's mouth. Chris pulls back, eyebrows raised. "Yeah?"
"I hope you know that this was not, at any moment, humoring you."
"I was pretty sure you didn't make all that noise just because you were trying to be a good boyfriend." Chris grins the shit-eating grin of the incredibly smug and well-fucked, and John can only snort; he deserves every ounce of that smile. "We're gonna have to play with this again sometime."
"I could probably get hard again in another couple minutes if you really went to town on my dick..."
That doesn't do anything to diminish Chris's grin. "Nah. Next time it's going to be me in the gloves." John's eyebrows go up. "And I'm gonna make you suck on my fingers before I fuck you."
John's not sure how long he spends just blinking up at Chris, but he's got to imagine it's a minute or two. Chris reaches down and squeezes John's cock, which makes John wince, but not in a bad way, not really. "I figured," Chris says, and God, he sounds as smug as he looks. He finally sits up, though, and grimaces as he climbs off the bed. "I'm going to stick to myself if I wait any longer to shower. You coming?"
"I said I could get hard. I made no promises about coming." But John peels himself off the bed and follows Chris to the bathroom, and he's got a pretty big grin on his face, too, as he goes.