Chapter 2
It’d been an interesting few weeks since James and Harry shared their moment in the living room. Weight – some but not all – had lifted from the blond which Harry noticed in little ways.
James’ posture, for one, was better. Shoulders held higher, chest forward, head up and not as focused on the floor. His voice was another. The gentle, soft tone interjected more in conversation and even went so far as to say what it wanted.
Among those were light touches. And pats on the shoulder. And hugs.
And kisses.
It started as a joke. One born from Heather's penchant for wishing Harry goodnight, every night, with a kiss on the cheek. It was something she’d done before their visit to Silent Hill. Something he’d been surprised she resumed years after when she was old enough to think of it. (Perhaps it was related to how the soul worked - he didn’t really know and didn’t think to question it). And each time, James' eyes bore holes in the scene whenever he caught it - enough for Harry to (somewhat) jokingly ask if the man wanted a kiss goodnight too. It was a surprise, at first, just how much touch meant to James though Harry should have guessed from his mannerisms; hand seeming to always rub his neck, or his arms, even the tops of his thighs when sitting. It was like his fingertips constantly needed terrain to trace and retrace, again and again.
In the dim light of Harry’s bedroom, the two shared that intimacy now – spurred by James – their lips pressed together chastely. The writer sat at his desk as James leaned down and let the warmth linger before tracing his lips down Harry’s slender neck. Hot breaths left the blond as his fingers touched the top of Harry’s hand gingerly. It sent tingles down Harry’s spine in a pleasantly annoying way. So, he shifted; as he’d been sitting for work a long while before the blond entered. James took the hint and gave Harry space to stand and stretch.
“Good night, then?” James asked.
Harry’s shoulder cracked as he brought his arms above his head. He glanced at the desk clock and his lips thinned at the time. He’d managed to work through to midnight again – not good for his who-knows-what-number attempt at getting his sleep schedule under control.
“I probably should but, ah…”
James’ head tilted to the side a tick; standing a fair distance away with his arms crossed. His fingers squeezed and rubbed his biceps rhythmically, lips pulling thin as he waited for the writer’s words. James didn’t make it easy, did he? No follow-up questions, no guesses at what the other wanted to say next, just a patient, anxious stare with those startlingly green eyes.
“I feel a bit too awake.” Harry attempted.
James’ brows rose before he shifted in place. The gears were grinding but not quite in the way the writer was hoping.
“Oh!” the blond turned for the door, “I’ll put on the kettle then?”
Harry chewed the inside of his cheek and gave the bridge of his nose a pinch. The door was just about to squeak open as James turned the handle but Harry moved quickly when needed - pushing the door closed with a bit of force. The sound was a bit louder than expected and Harry’s brows drew together as James’ shoulders rose.
It was safe to say the two were thankful Heather wasn’t home tonight.
“No tea…” James said quietly, looking over his shoulder.
Harry was only a few inches shorter though short enough where the blond’s gaze angled downward. Harry’s dark eyes met James’ - lids somewhat lowered.
“No tea.” he repeated.
James’ hand slipped from the handle before turning; back against the door as Harry’s hand still firmly pinned it shut. The writer took the chance to press himself against James. His tone as clear as the smile on his face.
“Maybe something a little different?”
If it were a cartoon, James’ eyes would be spinning and steam would be pouring from his ears - thoughts and feelings no doubt working double-time with the situation they found themselves in. It was hard to deny the pent up feelings that sparked between the two and Harry felt like tonight could make for an interesting opportunity.
“W-what’d you have in mind?” James replied. His tone almost sounded like a man being mugged. Or like a horror victim asking which torture was coming next. Harry couldn’t help but sputter with laughter as the thought struck him; shaking his head while he backed away from the blond.
“I’m sorry,” Harry began, doubling over and putting his hands on his thighs for support, “That, ah, that was a little much, I think…”
Harry pulled himself back up; exhaling the last chuckles from his system and rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.
“Maybe it is time for bed,” he continued, stars erupting behind his lids, “you should-”
James cut Harry off quickly, closing the distance and carefully pulling the writer’s hands from his eyes, leaning slightly to press his lips against Harry’s. The writer made a sound of surprise as his eyes shot open. James angled his head; lips parting briefly to lick Harry’s before pulling back. The blond’s cheeks were bright as he looked at the writer with furrowed brows. Harry’s mouth had dropped at the bold move. The pair stood stockstill, hands now clasped together, almost as if any movement could shatter what was forming. However, carefully, gently, nervously, James drew himself even closer, chest flush against Harry’s. The writer felt the press of heat and swallowed carefully as he noticed James’ lips move. The rush of blood pounding in Harry’s ears made it hard to pick out the words.
“I want to touch you.”
A careful, shaky exhale came from Harry, light with a laugh, “You’re already touching me…”
James’ head bowed to press against Harry’s shoulder; hair tickling his cheek.
“Please…”
Harry’s forehead wrinkled as he looked to the ceiling with what one might call a pleading expression. It was like a little prayer to whatever powers that be since he felt like he could explode. The weight of James’ head was quite literal on the writer and he swallowed. The tension in his muscles made every move seem that much greater though he gathered his strength; shifting to press his thigh between James’ legs. Just a little test…
The blond held a moan in; body arching to meet the touch, giving Harry very clear evidence to go off of.
“This hard already?” Harry whispered.
James couldn’t deny it. His hips replied as he moved against the other’s leg. His hands tightened in Harry’s as he found himself breathing deeply. The timidness was there but desperation was enough to let some of his needs come out more and more. It was a pleasant thing; to be more honest, more open, and the blond felt the warmth spread throughout his body in waves. If given enough time, he imagined he could get off just like this - an embarrassing way to think of how it could end - one that struck him enough to have a moan leave his lips. He was tempted to pursue the thought yet restrained the urge. In his thoughts, Harry would praise him for it, for being so disciplined, maybe even rewarding him with kind words or…something more. There was a delicious appeal to it.
A rough nudge brought James from his thoughts and a strange sound from his throat. It was enough to startle him away from Harry by a degree; their bodies still close and hands still together.
“Sorry-” Harry began quickly, softly, “you alright?”
A bead of sweat ran down James’ back.
“Y-yeah.” he managed.
“Maybe a little rough; you were really focused, huh?”
James nodded.
“What were you thinking about?” The smile on Harry’s face made the pleasant feeling swell in James’ core again. He knew that smile. The smile before a joke, a poke, a prod. The blond’s cheeks and neck flushed anew and his lips thinned. The words just waiting to spill out. The hesitance keeping them in. He didn’t know how far Harry wanted to go, or how they wanted to even go about it, whatever it was, or if he felt the need as much as James, or-
“Mm-!” James stiffened from rough pressure against his throbbing crotch.
“Here…” Harry began, untangling their hands and bodies; creating distance by another degree. James noticed with disappointment. Did he fuck up somehow…? Maybe Harry wasn’t interested one bit - after all, James didn’t feel arousal from the writer when he’d pressed against him, not like the very apparent shape outlined in his own jeans. Harry’s arms crossed against his chest as his stance widened.
“Be good for me and have a seat.”
The words made James blink. He took a moment; looking between the desk chair behind Harry and the bed to his right. He started to move towards the bed as the best option when Harry clicked his tongue.
“Not there.”
James swallowed.
“In front of me. On your knees.”
The blond stood still for a beat and his lips opened everso. Harry’s head tilted by a degree as a brow rose. The intensity of the stare overrode James’ apparent confusion as he slowly dropped to the floor, legs folding under him neatly. His hands naturally rest atop his thighs and he glanced at Harry. The writer smiled gently and came closer.
“Good!” he said; hand reaching down to ruffle James’ hair, “That’s great…though let me know if your knees start to hurt, okay?”
“Okay…” James replied.
“Now then,” Harry carried on, hand a bit absent mindedly running through the blond’s hair, “what were you thinking about before?”
The question wasn’t going to be forgotten, it seemed. A mist gathered in James’ eyes as he felt a bit cornered and comforted all the same. Harry was simply waiting; standing above with a smile, hand gentle as ever like in the living room which seemed so long ago. It was a feeling James hadn’t realized he’d been after this whole time.
“I…”
Harry made a sound of interest; ‘Do go on.’ it seemed to say.
“I thought about…hrm…” James’ head drooped and his whole body followed; gravity acting as if it were heavier somehow. The presence of Harry’s hand never left and James felt the distinct intent of the writer’s fingers as they went down to the scalp, massaging the skin briefly, then gathering to tug the blond’s hair. It was a sting, pleasant and sharp, a new type of pressure that gave him a reminder of his posture and position.
“You thought about…?”
The blond’s back straightened and his eyes met Harry’s, an odd surge of confidence swelling as if pulled by the writer’s grasp on his head.
“I thought about you…p-praising me more.”
Harry’s dark eyes stared intently; unreadable pools without their usual sparkle. James quickly wet his lips.
“I wanted to get off earlier; just rubbing on your leg…I didn’t.”
“And then?”
“I…”
James’ head started to droop before remembering Harry’s tight grip on his hair. He winced briefly which made Harry let go; patting the blond’s head apologetically.
“Sorry about that,” he said; gaze softening at James’ earnest reply, “You’ve been very good for me, James…”
“I thought about fucking you, too!” the rest came out suddenly, “Touching you, and s-sucking you off...”
A fresh sheen erupted in James’ eyes and Harry worried if saying much more could lead to some real tears. He felt half-tempted to see though wasn’t sure how far things wanted to be taken. Another idea sprang forth as he glanced between James’ legs. It would be a lie to say Harry didn’t want what he saw. Were he braver, his hands would be on James in an instant, frantically peeling away the layers and uncovering everything he could. He’d half a mind to unzip his jeans now, press James' face into his quivering erection. However, he wasn’t so brave. There were parts of himself that James wasn’t privy to - they just never came up - and he knew from experience to take it very, very slowly. Harry drew in a breath. This had been fun but he had to steel himself for the possibility of hurt.
He knelt down in front of James; the tips of their knees almost touching, and offered a soft, genuine smile. The change in the air was palpable as James’ posture shifted, slinking down slightly, taking up less space. A little more him from before. A little less rapt attention directed at Harry. This would be fine.
“Here’s what I think.” the writer started slowly, “I think you’ve liked this, right?”
James nodded, “I have…”
“And I have, too.”
There was a little smile from James that made Harry’s heart hurt.
“I’d like to have more fun tonight.”
James brightened at the idea; body language shifting a bit again. Harry’s eyes scanned over the blond and locked the information tightly away. Now wasn’t the time, it was so, so tempting but this wasn’t the time-!
“Okay, look.” Harry cut through his thoughts before he acted on impulse, “I’m going to get undressed - fully naked - and you’re going to close your eyes. I’ll tell you when to open them and if…If you don’t like things, we’ll just forget this all happened, okay?”
There was a searching look from James - questions clear on his face - lips pursing. Words had made things quite clear though even James' usually dense radar sensed something different about how Harry acted. There was an urgency, a nervousness, almost like ripping off a band-aid yet something much more… He cleared his throat carefully.
“I understand.”
Harry let out the breath he’d been holding and his usual smile came back by a degree.
“Great, good.” he nodded, mostly to himself, “Okay… close your eyes now.”
James nodded in turn, lids shutting tightly. His hands knit together in his lap and the sight almost made a chuckle leave Harry’s lips. Such a polite little gesture… He went to work undressing himself and his thoughts went to work, as well. He didn’t doubt the feelings James had - whether they were only out of a base need or out of affection, he didn’t care too much which - and had a feeling James wasn’t the type to hurt someone explicitly if he could help it. Harry’s brows knit together as the what ifs gathered.
What if James felt disgusted? Would he be able to hide it? Would he laugh? What kind of mocking sound would that be? What if he treated him differently…?
The last question hurt the most.
Experiences of the past floated through Harry’s mind; old figures replaced with James’ image. Testing which type of rejection might come from the blond best. Harry sighed as his bare skin landed on the bed with a soft thump. James’ shoulders rose in reaction to the sound and he twitched his head, as if he was going to look, but caught himself. The stillness in the air seemed to amplify Harry’s voice when he finally spoke.
“You can look.”
James cracked an eye open; head turning to the bed fully before he shifted his body. His brows rose as he took in Harry’s form, sitting at the edge of the bed, legs spread just a bit, leaning back as casually as he could muster. Things slowly connected together as the green eyes roamed over the other. Dark hair gathered on the writer’s chest, tightly in the middle before spreading out and over the small mounds and curves as it trickled down his lithe torso. It gathered together thickly again at his crotch with a noticeable hint of pink peeking out. Harry’s lips thinned at James’ intent stare and he turned his head to the side, hoping to conceal the gathering flush on his cheeks. He wasn’t used to such a lead up before the fall.
“Well?” he knew his tone was harsh.
“Harry…”
“Yeah?”
“Can I still touch you?”
The question threw the writer for a loop, “You still want to?”
James’ head nodded perhaps too enthusiastically as he shifted in place. Harry leaned forward a bit. His words left his lips before he could catch himself. Poisonous sarcasm dripping from each syllable.
“Even with a guy who’s got a body like this? Tits and no dick - a freak?”
“I…” James said cautiously, “don’t think that’s how you really see yourself, is it…?”
Harry’s eyes widened. His lips parted briefly.
This guy…
His hands covered his face, a hot sigh enveloping his skin as his body sagged, elbows propped against furry, bare thighs. His head dropped for a moment; bangs falling out of place as he shook his head slightly. He didn’t see himself that way, no. Of course not. It was hard to shake it though, from the ways others had seen him. From how a lot of society saw him, whether they knew or not. Jodie, bless her soul, had been among the few who had really seen him. Harry looked up with a weary smile; brows drawn together. James simply looked back, with a look that reminded Harry a lot of his late wife, somehow.
“Shit,” he whispered, “I’m sorry - the mood’s shot, isn’t it?”
James rubbed his neck slowly, “I don’t think so…I mean, you didn’t answer my question…”
Harry took a careful breath, sitting up again. Creeping embarrassment clawed at the corners of his eyes, hot and unforgiving. Here he was, in all his glory, while the blond sat across from him - polite, patient, waiting. His heart pounded in his chest thinking of how he must look to James. It was a sentiment that pointed towards the negative in Harry’s mind though he couldn’t help but notice the effect it must have had on the blond. Harry was keenly aware of the clear signal straining against James’ jeans, after all.
“So..how do you want to touch me?” Harry asked, forcing a bit of a smile to gain back the feeling of before.
It worked well enough from the way James straightened subtly.
“Why,” James began, perhaps more bold, “All over, if I can… your chest, stomach, your thighs…I especially want to touch you…well, down there .”
Harry’s brows rose. James was very mindful, wasn’t he?
“My dick.” Harry offered.
James nodded and a familiar chuckle left the writer’s lips. He motioned for James to come closer which was met perhaps too enthusiastically, the blond fumbling his movements from kneeling for a time. The little commotion eased the tension; a reminder they were just people. Just two men trying to figure out whatever the hell it was they were doing together. Harry’s legs spread slowly, deliberately, offering a clearer view of himself as James stood between them. Harry leaned back to settle on his forearms - a haughty pose - crooked smile plastered on his face as he looked up.
James took in a breath and peeled off his upper layers - gray polo followed closely behind by the black shirt. They found their haphazard spot on the floor before James stooped lower - hands finding purchase on each side of Harry. The two came together fluidly for a kiss, quick and soft, before James brushed his face against the writer’s collarbone. The silent motion landed the blond kneeling once more - between Harry’s legs - hands tentatively rubbing up and down the other’s warm thighs.
James’ hands stopped right at the juncture of Harry’s hips, thumbs angled down along the crease of his crotch. Hot anticipation tingled along the writer’s skin, his dick prickling to attention, demanding whatever treatment James wanted to give.
James smiled, “Can I use my mouth?”
Harry’s heart fluttered and his thighs twitched. His lips curled in to suppress the excitement of that proposition; trying to remember the last time he’d had that luxury.
“Please do…”
Hot, wet acknowledgement came in the form of a small nip at Harry’s inner thigh, a ghost trail of firm, gentle pressure traveling up Harry’s skin. The writer groaned inwardly, squirming in the blond’s grasp as James took his time getting where wanted. Each stop along the writer’s leg drew forth a new, pleasant reaction.
“It’s been a while since I’ve done this.” James admitted, teeth sinking into skin.
“Same for me.” Harry replied. He continued to squirm until the blond reached a close spot - trying a little extra pressure - which garnered a cry from the writer. James froze, teeth partway into Harry’s skin close to his throbbing dick. Harry heaved a sigh.
“Sensitive…” he explained.
The blond made a sound of understanding; lips replacing the sharpness of teeth as he kissed the spot carefully. The wet sensation cooled quickly along Harry’s skin though James creeping closer from the edge of the bed worked to counteract it. The blond rest his cheek against Harry’s leg - nose practically prodding his dick. Harry’s mouth pulled in an amused expression; amazed the man didn’t care about putting his cheek against wet skin.
“Stop me if anything’s bad…,” James began, words peppering Harry’s skin in hot breath, “and tell me if you want me to do anything in particular.”
Harry answered with a nod.
“Oh,” James continued, “And don’t be afraid to put your hands in my hair, and tug a little, or a lot, it’s nice. Like I said it’s been a while so I just-”
“James.”
The blond glanced up at Harry. His dark eyes were half-lidded with impatient desire, blown pupils drowning out the color to a degree. James hadn’t noticed the gathering blush that dusted Harry’s chest, cheeks, and ears. A fresh flush came over James face.
“Right,” he said, “sorry - I’ll go ahead…”
The direct warmth caused a shiver through Harry, quickly followed by a groan, as his eyes screwed shut to focus on the sensation. He was aware of James’ movements, how they corresponded to the heat at his crotch, and then, like a spark, he was aware of how the blond’s tongue moved over his erect dick. The spark turned to a bolt - Harry’s voice escaping more than he’d planned. He brought a hand to his mouth, letting himself fall back on the bed, legs spreading wider. It gave James a perfect chance to shift - arms snaking under Harry’s thighs, hands roaming as far as they could reach. Being a bit taller, it gave him the advantage as his eyes flicked up; fingertips brushing over their target. Amidst chest hair, Harry’s nipples poked out, stiffened from arousal yet soft beneath James’ fingers.
“Mnn-!” Harry whined, hips thrusting carelessly into the other’s mouth. His brain couldn’t decide where to focus between his chest and his crotch and a familiar, fizzing sensation bubbled up at his core. He wanted the soft, wet heat, the pressure and suction, the touch, all of it. James responded in kind; the wordless praise from Harry’s body gave him enough to go on. A pleasant groan rumbled from his throat as his tongue dipped into Harry’s deepest parts - tasting and savoring what he found.
He’d managed to get Harry this wet and undone and the pride of it made his skin prickle. James’ tongue strained for more, ignoring the ache in his jaw, as he relished in the other’s reactions. Harry’s dick had swelled deliciously for James - filling his mouth as he continued to suck and lick. The blond’s brows furrowed with concentration; hands traveling back down carefully to resume gripping Harry’s thighs. He needed stabilization as the writer’s legs quivered and shook; knees tempted to close together. Each pass over the throbbing member garnered another jump from Harry’s body - chest heaving and lips parted with wordless moans. James felt the pleasant touch of Harry’s hands on his head as he buried his tongue into the man’s quivering core. Muscles twitched with urgency as a spasm overtook the writer - fingers gripping James’ hair sloppily and pulling.
Like a man pulled from the water, James' eyes fluttered open - lips parted, chin wet with Harry’s slick - and took a moment to even out his breathing. He hadn’t realized how little air he’d gotten.
“You okay…?” the blond asked; looking over his equally breathless partner.
Harry nodded quickly - steadying himself - feeling the continued pulse of orgasm rushing through his body.
“Why the hell are you so good at that?”
The question came before Harry could catch himself. James blinked a few times.
“I just…I just like doing it…” he managed; explanation half-hearted but sincere.
“How’re you?” Harry parroted the question, noting how red James’ lips had gotten. The blond considered things briefly; untangling himself and touching his lips. There was a shy pause as James considered the wet mess between Harry and the sheets; hands working their way back over the other’s thighs.
“I’m good.” James replied, meeting Harry’s eyes, “Can I keep going…?”
“Are you trying to kill me?”
James chuckled - a surprise for the evening - and shook his head.
“No, of course not..I, uh, well…” James’ chest puffed to a degree - face blatantly betraying his feigned confidence, “I’d like to make you squirt.”
Harry’s head hit the mattress with a solid thump. His hands pressed against his face dramatically in disbelief. This wasn’t fair! James wasn’t allowed to pull out all the cards up his sleeve in one night! Harry’s hands dropped as he jokingly resigned himself to his fate. He would die from pleasure and that wasn’t a bad way to go. He shifted up on the bed proper, making short order of getting the pillows comfortable, beckoning James all the while.
“C’mon,” he said, “Get comfortable - you’ve been on the floor too long.”
James made a sound at this and stood quickly; taking a moment to adjust as TV static flared up one leg from all the kneeling. He tried not to let it interfere as Harry motioned towards a towel hung from his closet door knob (“We’ll need that.”) The blond quickly grabbed it - tossed it over - then hopped out of his jeans and underwear before managing to land on the bed successfully. The uncharacteristic movements got a few laughs out between the two as they repositioned fully. The bed was decidedly more comfortable than the floor as James’ torso was cushioned by soft linen. With the blond settled between his legs, Harry took the opportunity to reach forward - hands gliding over James’ broad shoulders. James’ head leaned against Harry’s upper thigh - taking a moment to enjoy the warmth radiating from the writer’s hands and flushed skin.
“Better, isn’t it?” Harry asked.
“Mm.”
Harry continued; rhythmic movements causing goosebumps to erupt along James’ forearms as a contented sigh left his lips. The hot air was close enough to Harry’s swollen, tender dick that a shiver ran down his spine. The blond looked up then.
“If I want to finger you,” he began, shifting to brush his lips over Harry’s swollen, needy dick, “is that okay?”
Harry’s dick replied at the touch. James lips had already parted to softly lick the sensitive head, swirling his tongue around the tip. The writer was glad to have pillows for support; feeling his body lose strength at the overstimulation.
“T-that’s fine,” was his shaky reply, “I trust you, James.”
The words weren’t meant to elicit any particular response yet the earnesty struck James to his core. His brows furrowed and his eyes closed as he applied himself to the task; hips grinding into the bed. One arm acted as an anchor, keeping one of Harry’s quivering thighs in place while his body pinned the other. His free hand accompanied his mouth, one finger teasing Harry's entrance, ghosting touches around the slick muscle. The writer's hip begged for more, angling towards the touch and inadvertently deeper into James' mouth.
"Fuck…nngh-" he exhaled softly, "please…"
The disjointed request was granted - James didn't want to torture the man like that , after all - finger easily slipping inside the welcoming depth. He sucked in a breath, marveling at the heat on his skin as he gave his mouth a rest and focused elsewhere.
"You're so wet." James said, voice almost matter of fact, coated in a layer of desire.
Harry's jaw clenched through a moan, "I wonder why…"
The blond hummed in reply, curling his finger up inside the writer, earning a bodily jolt. Good.
The pad of his index felt the rough, spongy ridge inside Harry, the one that was making him moan and whimper so easily. James felt a surge of greed as he replaced one finger for two - stretching Harry pleasantly. He wanted to hear more of that voice come undone and continued on. Fingers beckoned along with his tongue in a two prong attack that had Harry white knuckle the sheets. His words had dissolved entirely - legs shaking and chest heaving - hips rolling into the firm touch and hot mouth; eyes cracking open for a moment to discover James' intense gaze locked on him. Pupils blown wide to darken familiar green.
"I'm-" Harry attempted through thin moans and whimpers.
James knew. The slick covering his fingers had become easy evidence, wet sounds intensifying with each pass as the blond massaged that spot diligently. His jaw ached anew yet Harry's cries and needy look spurred him on. He wanted to voice his own encouragement - say a dirty word or two and his brows knit together. He had to; mouth releasing Harry's well loved dick.
"Come for me…" James urged, "I want to see you come, Harry."
The ghost of his name left Harry's lips; all caught up in his moans, though his head nodded a bit. James' fingers never left the writer as he shifted, keeping the man in place but allowing his other hand to enter the role his mouth had been playing. The new sensation gathered fresh sounds from Harry's throat.
James didn't know where to look then. He felt the pulsing around his fingers quicken, noting the way Harry's body was curling, chasing more to get him where he was going. Green eyes settled on Harry's lower half quickly, the hot surge signaling his was close, and just as James’ focus locked on, he felt it. It was nothing like a porno but God if it wasn't the best thing. A rush of clear fluid wet the blond's palm, spurting in time with his gradually slowing thrusts.
Harry's head tilted back against the pillows and his hands shot from the sheets to grab James' arms whenever they might be. He grit his teeth through the sensation - sweet and pleasantly painful - body tensing in its entirety. His brain could only handle so much and his body took over, hips rolling into the place where James kept his fingers still. Harry licked his lips at the flood of good feeling that came in waves, his core fluttering.
Then there was quiet. The two filling the room with little but their breathing - whispery moans and sighs from Harry. James didn't dare move; lest he ruin his handy work , but Harry took it up to move first.
Or at least try to.
"My legs are shot…" he complained through a laugh.
"Oh," James said, a flash of heat stirring his dick, "sorry… was it too much?"
Harry managed to shift himself using his arms, stretching his legs carefully, a handsome, deep groan leaving his lips. James retreated to Harry's side, sitting on his knees, dick comically at attention, though his focus was on the writer. Harry's eyes flicked up, then down, then up again.
"It was amazing," he finally replied, hand smoothing his hair back, "I haven't done that before, you know."
A full body flush threatened to take over James. His hands balled on top of his thighs and his lips pulled thin, dick twitching. It was a lot to take in, being the first to do that to someone, and he cleared his throat.
"Thanks…"
Harry cocked his head to the side, "I should thank you - I don't know if I'd have the patience if I was in your shoes. Especially with the… condition you're in."
James swallowed. Of course, Harry was going to notice. It was hard not to - his dick doing everything in its power to draw attention. The thick shaft poked out lightly from between his pressed thighs, tip glistening with its own slick, heat beating against James' skin. James hands shot up, waving away the worry, as he smiled sheepishly.
"It's fine!" He tried to laugh, "I like doing that sort of thing, like I said, so, uh…yeah."
"Do you want to fuck?"
"Huh…?"
Harry's brow rose, stretched legs shifting enough for James to catch a glimpse at the still glistening slit and throbbing dick.
"I might not be much use since my legs are basically jelly but I think you've been more than good. You deserve it."
The purr in Harry's voice tingled along James' skin. Harry wanted him. He was wet and willing and waiting and-
"It's alright?"
Harry's eyes widened before a laugh left his lips. His smile lit up rooms and his laugh warmed fire and James felt like he needed shielding from it. It was a beautiful thing that he had a hard time existing in. Something he didn't think he had a right to anymore.
"I just said so-," the writer replied, "you're wonderful about asking. I do appreciate that. Now, come over here."
The blond nodded, getting settled near Harry's side, watching him roll over to reach into a side table for a condom and some lube. Rolling back, Harry's dark eyes met James' and he leaned in, heat emanating from his lips. Tentatively, Harry licked at James' tender lips, still red and puffed from all the work before. The blond replied by parting them, letting Harry's tongue mingle with his own, sharing the taste of the writer's core together. Intense and quick, Harry pulled back, licking his lips.
"So…" he began, "I have two options."
James nodded.
"There's this." he held up the condom, "Or…"
He shifted, hand gracefully snaking its way up James’ thigh to caress his erection.
"You can go in without it."
A shiver tickled at the blond's back, hairs on end hearing how Harry lowered his voice just so.
"Is that a good idea?" His hushed tone tinged with curiosity. Harry smirked, fingers curling around James, teasing him gently with little clenches and movement. The blond moaned softly.
"If you noticed among all this," Harry pointed his chin down his body, "there's a little scar."
James did his best to focus, Harry's hand still around his dick. He eyed the faint difference in skin tone under dark hair, just above Harry’s pubic mound. A thin horizontal slash across his flesh.
"I had that shit taken out." Harry explained, 'that shit', James realized, being the uterus.
"I see…"
Harry shrugged, "I know it's weird - being a dad - like you'd expect I might want kids, but…not like that ."
James swallowed a moan as his dick pulsed, "I get it… I understand."
His hips angled to meet Harry's touch, wishing to be inside him now. He wanted to wrap his arms around the man so, so badly, bury himself as deep as he could. He ached.
"I don't care how it is," James admitted, "I want to fuck you bad. Whatever way you want me to…"
Harry caught his lip between his teeth. He wished he had the strength to push James down, crawl on top of him, and have his way. Regrettably, his legs still felt like a fawn's, unsure and unsteady, and his eyes squeezed shut. Just for a moment.
"Okay." He breathed, "No condom then."
Harry needed this. James' thick cock swelled in his hand and Harry felt a rush of his own. His dick throbbed with a pleasant ache and he drew his legs together, thighs tight as they pressed against the heat. With a final, rough squeeze, Harry leaned in towards James, lips smashing together, teeth nipping swollen lips, tongue diving deep. He knew exactly what he wanted and hoped his words and hand wouldn't push James over. It was amazing the man hadn't come yet…
"I'm a bit shaky still," Harry whispered between kisses, "but I want you to fuck me from behind; me on my knees…"
"Yes…" James breathed back, heart pounding.
There was a languid moment then. The two kissing roughly, hands roaming each other's bodies. James enjoying the coarse hair atop soft skin while Harry purred at the feeling of James beneath his fingers. The blond wasn't out of shape by any means and there was a solidness to him. Muscle hidden beneath a layer of comfortable fat. Harry took pleasure in grabbing it - a handful of pillowy, thick thigh, another grab at the small layer of fat at James' midsection. It helped affirm the normalcy of it all. They were just two people, two men, sharing their moment. Treasuring the payoff.
The moment died down as Harry felt a surge of impatience and renewed strength. He shifted, moving to his knees, arms bracing himself as well. James ran a hand down the writer's back as he shifted too, putting himself behind the other. His cock rest heavily on Harry's ass, figuring the adjustments needed for their heights, taking time to run his hands up and down Harry's sides.
"You're amazing…" he said.
Harry made a sound somewhat like a scoff, joking, touched, tender. He threw a look over his shoulder.
"Words alone won't get another orgasm out of me, if that's what you're thinking."
James smiled at that, wondering if it were really true. Noting it down for another day.
"Maybe not," the blond replied, "but I know this will."
He punctuated his statement by passing the head of his cock between Harry's lips, still so slick and hot. The feeling got a groan from Harry who pushed his hips back a bit, signaling his need loudly. James took a chance to enjoy it - rubbing himself at the writer's entrance - cock entering briefly before pulling out again. Harry's head dropped, shoulders slouching. James felt Harry's legs quiver on the bed. He didn’t want to make the other wait much longer.
Slowly, he pushed past the entrance, breathing out as he slid into the man's hot core, marveling at the ease. James glanced down as his cock disappeared completely, snugly enveloped in Harry, who ground his hips against James with a whimper. A strong twitch ran through James' cock. He took in a breath to brace himself, not wanting to disappoint, and pulled back just as slow. A groan left his own lips as he started to set a pace, gentle, careful. Harry must have felt it was torture, the way he muffled his cries against the pillows.
"Harry…" James moaned.
The writer did his best to meet the other’s pace, grinding back into James’ hips, in spite of his legs being near ready to give out. He turned his head with a little gasp as fresh air entered his system. Eyelids fluttered as he bit his lower lip, fullness stretching him far more than James’ fingers had. He was beginning to get out of sync; muscles straining to cooperate.
“James-” Harry whined, “I-”
Words cut off as James leaned forward, bracing himself against Harry’s back, wrapping an arm around his waist, hand groping for the other’s dick. He did his best to keep most of his weight off the writer by balancing on his other forearm, sweat pricking his back and brows. The new position drove the blond’s dick deeper and his teeth clenched. The wave building in his body was just about to crash on the shore. The red hot heat moved through him - he was close.
“Ju-just a bit more,” James whispered fiercely, “I’m going to-!”
Harry’s head moved with understanding - a half-nod caught in the pillows - his movement limited by James’ hold. The little push James needed came in a literal way as Harry’s body shook - orgasm brought back welcome sounds and a rush of wetness against James’ fingers. He urged the other; digits flying back and forth to coax even more to leave dark marks on the sheets. Harry’s voice turned from thin moans to deeper groans, curses peppered amongst the rumbles, as James breathed heavy in his ear.
“Harry,” he said it like a prayer, “Harry, oh, Harry-!”
And with a final uptick in pace, James wrapped his arms around the writer fully, collapsing the two abruptly, hips grinding into the man all the same. A sharp inhale came from Harry - partly from the fall and partly from the sudden sting as James’ teeth found their way to the back of his neck.
“F-fucking hell, James-!”
A rush of hot fullness came next, thrusts slowing to deliberate strokes inside Harry’s aching body as tears streaked the corners of his eyes. James’ bite let up and turned to licks and quick kisses. Harry pulsed around him and James did the same, bodies beating in time as the two let time stand still. The blond’s arms showed no signs of letting go especially with his sex-dazed brain adding to the mix - hips lazily rolling into Harry despite his dick’s returning softness. The other tolerated it - welcomed it, even - a clear sign of the affection James felt. His heart beat quick in his ears as he heard the slow breaths of a worn out man as well. It was nice, being so satisfied, so wanted. Even if for a moment.
“James…”
The blond nuzzled Harry’s marked neck - causing the other to wince - a bruise slowly forming.
“James.” he tried again, a bit firmer now.
“Harry.” came the reply, a smile clear in his voice even if Harry couldn’t see it.
Dark eyes rolled, a sigh was heaved, and Harry pushed with what strength he had, attempting to roll the other’s weight.
“You need to get off now.” he chided.
There was a whine, quite childish, before James withdrew with a hiss - cool air a shock against his skin. The towel was indeed needed; being quite the crime scene from what transpired before. And now, it had added evidence as James’ cum dripped from Harry’s loved body. Harry hadn’t seen James’ face until then and was amused by the look. His eyelids struggled to keep open, the air about him in a total daze, though he seemed quite focused on the other.
“Harry…”
“Hmm?”
“I wish I was that towel right now…”
Harry coughed - mocking offense by covering his body comically and leaning back. James smirked; tempted to advance but Harry’s words stopped him.
“If you want to be good for me,” he said, “then save it for later.”
Goosebumps prickled along James’ skin, partly at the cool air, partly from Harry’s choice of words, and he nodded.
“Sorry.” he offered, “It’s late; I’ll clean up and let you do the same…”
“Ah, ah, ah.” Harry began, “You’re not leaving tonight, after all that. You’re sleeping with me.”
James’ cheeks flushed, usual demeanor returning bit by bit.
“Here?”
“Yes,” Harry said, “now let’s take a shower then sleep, hm?”
There was a nod, followed by the silent shuffle of two men figuring it all out. Harry, embarrassed by his post-sex sea legs; James, eager to help and clean him up. They would navigate together - whatever this was turning out to be - two men tied in strange, strange circumstances. Lives so different yet somehow finding commonality. When they finally settled down, in Harry’s bed, James offered his chest as a pillow, and Harry gave in. Warm, comforting, rhythmic breathing as James fell asleep within mere minutes, damp hair going to haunt him in the morning with outrageous bedhead. And Harry would laugh, shuffling James along to do whatever he got up to, his little family all the more complete.
End.