Shadow of the Templar Lacunae: Double Down, Chapter 5.5

On timeline: during Double Down, at the end of chapter 5
Spoilers for: everything up to Double Down, chapter 5, fancy that
Warnings: cockity dick cock cock, the word 'fuck' used as a verb, mild violence, assorted and sundry curse words

The 'fade to black' close to the end of Chapter 5, now with 100% less fading/blackness!



      Jeremy craned his neck back into Simon's grip and put his hand on Simon's chest. "Well, then, shall we? Er, 'go along'?"

      "Let's do that," Simon said, and leaned down to bite the front of Jeremy's exposed throat. "Take off your jacket," he growled, in a tone that brooked no resistance.

      Jeremy closed his eyes and made a single deeply satisfied sound low in his throat. A moment later the jacket hit the floor.


      "Good boy," Simon said against the skin of Jeremy's throat, half-shutting his eyes. The lamp on the bedside table wasn't bright by any means, but he was looking right at it and he really wasn't inclined to move.

      The hand on Simon's chest closed slowly into a loose fist around a bit of his t-shirt, but otherwise Jeremy was still, waiting. Simon flicked his tongue over the bitemarks he'd left, then pulled back to consider this oddly-pliable Jeremy. His mind was starting to tick along again, suddenly alive to all kinds of possibilities; the world slowed to the point where Simon could see the pulse beating in Jeremy's exposed throat. "You know, you gave me a hell of a scare," Simon said.

      Jeremy's eyes slitted open, gleaming under the sweep of his lashes. "I'd apologize," he said, "but oddly, I'm not sorry."

      "A hell of a scare," Simon repeated, drawing the words out. His hand tightened on the back of Jeremy's neck. "Hell, my heart's still pounding."

      "I noticed," Jeremy said, the hand on Simon's chest flexing a little.

      "So I'm not exactly in the mood here just yet," Simon said. "And since that's your fault, I think you're going to do something about it."

      Jeremy's lips parted, adding a single flash of fang to his enigmatic little smile. He closed his eyes and let his hand fall away from Simon's chest. "Yes, sir," he said, his voice suddenly a low, rough thing.

      Simon controlled his shiver before his hand could transmit it to Jeremy. "Don't call me 'sir'," he said instead. "You know my name."

      "Yes, Simon," Jeremy said obediently.

      "Good." Simon let go of Jeremy, crossing his arms over his chest. "Take off your shirt."

      For a heartbeat of time Jeremy was still, his head still tilted back, his smile facing only the ceiling... then his chin dropped and his eyes drifted open. He assessed Simon from one end to the other, his cool gaze flicking from Simon's own eyes to the cross of his arms to the front of his jeans before returning, inevitably, to Simon's face. Jeremy's smile widened; just like that the momentary spell of stasis snapped, and his hands flicked down just half a heartbeat before Simon could call him on it. Jeremy casually stripped his t-shirt off over his head, dropping it onto his jacket. Running a hand back through his mussed hair he turned that little smile on Simon, waiting.

      Simon let him wait. Eyes narrowed, arms crossed, he waited until Jeremy shifted his weight onto one foot, cocking one hip with that faint rustle of leather sliding against skin. "Pants too," Simon said, softly.

      "Of course, Simon," said Jeremy, his hands flying to one hip. His fingers flickered and a zipper purred down. Jeremy shed his pants with a slow little roll of his hips, kicking off his shoes almost as an afterthought. Simon let the little disobedience slide.

      Jeremy was left in only a pair of those ridiculous tiny briefs that he favored—black like always, a low band of expensive-looking stuff tight across his hips. In direct contrast to the black his skin was nearly glowing, the edges of his muscles subtly blurred and gilded by a faint down of tiny hairs that picked up the light. Widening his eyes in an unspoken question, Jeremy spread his hands and waited.

      "That'll do for now," Simon said. Almost as an afterthought he grabbed the edge of the dresser and leaned back against it. "Come here."

      Stepping neatly out of the tangle of his pants, Jeremy obeyed, stopping (as Simon had known that he would) far too close to Simon for normal comfort. Simon could feel the heat of him even through his clothes. The challenge was clear, and would have been even without the quick twist of Jeremy's smile, but Simon thought that, perhaps, he was up to that—then Jeremy's legs folded under him with startling speed and he went to his knees not a hand's width from Simon. "Here?" he asked, his voice pretty much a parody of innocence by now.

      "... that'll do." Simon rubbed a hand down his face. Okay, it wasn't exactly what he'd meant, but it was still a nice view and a hell of a promise. Accordingly, he enjoyed it for a little while, his earlier scare long since forgotten; he was somewhat hard already and lazily getting harder. No urgency in it, though—not yet... Simon stripped off his own t-shirt and dropped it onto the floor.

      Jeremy's pupils dilated slightly. Everything was so damn clear here in the heat of the moment that Simon saw it happen, and when Jeremy's hand lifted from his thigh, Simon was ready. He caught Jeremy's hand less than an inch from his stomach. "No," he said, almost gently.

      Jeremy laughed and twitched his hand free, letting it drop back to his thigh. "As you say, Simon," he said.

      "That's right," Simon said. "As I say." He shook his head slightly, flicking his hair out of his eyes. "But since you're so impatient, you can unbutton my pants now. You know. If you want to."

      Jeremy's hands were on him almost before he could finish the sentence. Rising up onto his knees Jeremy slipped the buttons free one at a time, taking his time about it, dragging denim and buttons and knuckles back and forth across Simon's cock—Simon concentrated his gaze on the top of Jeremy's head and did his best to think about anything but that. It wasn't easy, and he wasn't totally successful, but he was still well in control of things by the time the last button was undone, and he couldn't ask for more than that.

      Jeremy snaked a finger under the waistband of Simon's underwear—Simon grabbed his hand again. "Hey," he said reprovingly.

      "Mm? Ah. My apologies." Jeremy's fingers flexed in Simon's grip.

      "No," Simon said, now enjoying this outright. "You say 'I'm sorry, Simon'."

      Jeremy's laugh was a faint little ripple of sound. "I'm sorry, Simon," he said.

      "Now you promise you won't do it again."

      "I promise that I'll take no further liberties without permission," Jeremy said, his eyes gleaming.

      "No," Simon said. "You say 'I'm sorry, Simon, I won't do it again'."

      Jeremy's smile was widening and he looked pretty terminally amused, but obediently he repeated, "I'm sorry, Simon. I won't do it again."

      "Now say 'I'll do whatever you say, Simon'."

      "I'll do whatever you say, Simon," Jeremy repeated, his voice gaining a raw and husky edge that punched Simon straight in the gut.

      Simon watched Jeremy in silence until the butterfly vacated his stomach, then snorted out a laugh and shook his head. "You're terrible at this obedience stuff."

      "And here I thought that I was following your orders with commendable promptness," Jeremy said innocently.

      "Oh, yeah, I can't argue with that," Simon said. "You just keep trying to put your own little twist on things, which isn't very abject or slave-like of you. The Bureau does not approve of personal initiative."

      "Well, that's easily solved," said Jeremy. "Tell me not to."

      "... Christ, it can't be that easy." Simon rubbed a hand down his face. "Okay. Here's how it's going to go."

      Jeremy settled back down, hands on his thighs. "I'm listening."

      "For the time being, I expect you to do exactly what I say," said Simon, aware of a faint sense of anticipation growing in the pit of his belly, "and nothing more. No more of these little challenges."

      "Yes, Simon."

      "Say it."

      "I'll do exactly as you say, Simon." Ill-hidden amusement made Jeremy's smile small and crooked.

      Simon put one hand on Jeremy's cheek, touching the ball of his thumb to the provocation in that smile. "Say the rest."

      "I'll do exactly as you say, and nothing more." Jeremy punctuated the promise with a lightning-swift flicker of his tongue against Simon's thumb.

      It only made Simon snicker. "Liar," he said, almost fondly.

      "Well," said Jeremy, shrugging one shoulder, his eyes gleaming.

      "I know, I know." Simon tweaked the curve of Jeremy's ear, then put that hand back on the edge of the dresser. "But you know what, the better you behave now, the better I'll make things go for you later."

      Jeremy's lips parted, for a moment forming a tiny, silent 'o' that still quirked up at its corners. "I call that incentive," he said thoughtfully. Despite both promise and incentive he put one hand on Simon's leg without being prompted, catching a fold of denim between his first two fingers. "I can only hope that you give me permission to begin behaving as soon as possible."

      Simon shook his head. "Terrible at this," he repeated. "I don't know what I was thinking—but since you're so eager, I guess you can get me out of those now."

      "Just these?" Jeremy asked, twitching at that fold.

      "Just those," Simon confirmed. "No funny stuff, Archer. Remember, I'm watching you every second."

      It was the wrong thing to say. Or exactly the right thing—"Oh, I hope so," Jeremy breathed, voice going rough, eyelids going heavy, tongue flicking out to touch the bow of his upper lip; manfully, Simon did not exactly choke, although he prudently chose to remain silent. Rising up onto his knees again Jeremy deftly slid his fingers in between Simon's undone jeans and Simon's underwear.

      Simon pushed away from the dresser long enough for Jeremy to get his jeans down over his hips. Jeremy's fingers traced along the sharp arcs of Simon's hipbones as they went but took no further liberties, which was entirely surprising. "Still watching," Simon said, mostly to be saying something.

      "Promise?" Jeremy's fingers trailed down along the outside of Simon's thighs, dragging his jeans down at a deliberate pace that made his skin prickle. The faint flash of his smile was all the warning that Simon got; just as Jeremy's fingers hit the softer skin behind Simon's knees, Jeremy leaned up and pressed his cheek to the heavy curl of Simon's lazily-hardening cock, only a thin layer of cotton between him and it, too thin to blunt the sensation or the sudden explosion of heated breath—

      Simon's cock stiffened halfway to attention in a heartbeat—"Hey!" Simon said, grabbing a handful of Jeremy's hair and hauling him away. "Dammit, what did I say?"

      "That you were watching?" Jeremy said, radiating innocence. "Ah, well. My mistake." His fingers flicked, once. Simon's jeans gave up the ghost and collapsed in a little puddle around his feet.

      Simon kicked his way free, still holding onto Jeremy's hair, entirely for his own protection. Jeremy's gaze flicked over Simon again, taking him in with such interest that Simon inadvertently checked himself out just to figure out what Jeremy was looking at. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, Simon gave Jeremy another of those mostly-friendly little shakes. "Behave," he said sternly. "Don't think I won't call a halt and kick you right out if you can't learn to follow orders."

      "That would be a shame," Jeremy said. One hand lifted to hover a fraction of an inch away from Simon's thigh, so close that the hair on his leg prickled—"May I?" Jeremy asked.

      Simon couldn't resist. "Say 'please'."

      Jeremy's tongue flicked snaky-quick over his upper lip. "Please," he breathed, so softly that it was little more than a pop and a sibilant hiss.

      "Goddamn, a guy could get used to this," Simon said, his voice a little thick. "All right. But I frown on, on creative interpretation."

      Both of Jeremy's hands spread out on Simon's thighs, which was not exactly what Simon had intended to give him permission to do. Jeremy slid them up until his fingertips flicked at the lower edge of Simon's underwear. "Very nice," he said, under his breath.

      Simon looked down. Navy blue boxer briefs were nice now, apparently, not that he didn't like them. "I'm glad you appreciate them, Archer."

      "Them?" Jeremy raised one eyebrow.

      "Funny, funny man." Simon nudged his leg against Jeremy's hand. "I seem to recall that you were doing something...?"

      Jeremy ran his hands up, fingers splayed, palms pressed warm against Simon's hips through the thin fabric of his briefs. Whether he didn't want to ruin the moment or was just eager to get on with things, he didn't say anything else, sarcastic or otherwise; the tips of Jeremy's fingers slid under the waistband like intruders and peeled Simon free of his underwear an agonizingly slow inch at a time. Simon immediately riveted his attention to the opposite wall and tried very hard to think about other things: football, roadkill, warmth, taxes, traffic jams, the loose belt in the Jeep's engine that squealed when it was wet out, Jeremy's fingers skating over the tender skin of his lower belly, the step on the concrete stairs outside that wobbled slightly, the sheer relief of his half-hard cock being able to swell free of its former restraints, whoops, crap—still, he wasn't totally hard by the time his underwear fell and he kicked it free, which had been pretty much his entire goal. Ignoring his sudden attack of naked for the moment, Simon tightened his grip on Jeremy's hair. "Okay, now you're going to listen to me."

      Jeremy's eyes flicked down and back up. Even with Simon keeping him at a prudent distance, he had to tilt his head to one side to avoid getting Simon's dick in his eye—"Oh, I'm listening," he said. "Believe me, you have my full attention."

      "Yeah, but which part of me are you paying attention to, that's always the question." Simon paused, rearranged his grip on Jeremy's hair, and gave it a little tug. "In case it wasn't totally obvious, you're gonna blow me a little now—"

      "—you don't say—"

      "—shut up—"

      "—yes, Simon."

      "Better." Simon loosened his grip slightly, ready to grab for Jeremy again if he tried anything. "But only a little. It has been a long fucking day and you gave me one hell of a scare, so I'm going to need that help—" a pretty goddamned blatant lie, honestly, and the fact that he was within a couple of inches of half-blinding Jeremy could attest to that "—but once I'm hard, you stop. I didn't go through all this just for a quick blowjob. Understand?"

      "Yes, Simon." Jeremy's voice was a lazy purr. One hand flickered across the narrow band of his underwear as he rearranged himself a little.

      Simon nudged Jeremy's knee with his toe. "Quit that."

      Jeremy's fingers paused, splayed out across the material, then lifted away. "Only a little preventative maintenance," he said, unrepentant.

      "Quit it anyway." Letting go of Jeremy's hair, Simon grabbed the edge of the dresser in both hands. "So what are you waiting for?"

      Jeremy raised an eyebrow. "Permission?"

      "Oh, now you decide to be all obedient—" Simon wiped a hand down his face, then grabbed the dresser again. "Permission granted."

      Jeremy's tongue ticked off his front teeth. "Thank you, Simon," he said, and he managed to sound vaguely close to actually grateful (although the thin thread of laughter under his voice kind of spoiled it) as he rose up and took Simon in hand, one hand curling lightly up over Simon's balls, the other taking the measure of his cock—by this point Simon was pretty damned close to fully hard and Jeremy only had to nudge him up a little in order to suck him in.

      Simon's head fell back, hitting the wall with a hollow thud, leaving him staring blindly up at the ceiling. (Some tiny part of his brain informed him that it was ugly and made of plaster.) Without really thinking about it Simon caught a fistful of Jeremy's hair again, making Jeremy arch his neck and purr out a little acknowledging sound that Simon could feel from his stomach to his goddamned knees—he was hard as a rock within seconds, but oddly disinclined to make Jeremy stop.

      Jeremy kept up the pretense of obedience by keeping it lazy and slow, but the constant, hungry pull of his mouth proved it all a lie. For a moment, just a moment, Simon was tempted to let it end like this. The wet heat of it was nearly irresistible. It would be so easy, and Jeremy would be pleased to do it, and Christ but Simon knew that it would wash away his fatigue and irritation like a tsunami washes away sand—Simon tugged lightly on his handful of Jeremy's hair. "Hey."

      Jeremy's answering "Mmmm?" shivered hard around Simon's cock and nearly undid his resolve. Simon faltered for a moment, breath hissing out between his teeth, and Jeremy took advantage of Simon's hesitation to swallow him again, with a second "Mmm" that sounded almost like a laugh—

      "What did I say, Archer?" Simon rasped, catching hold of his control again.

      Jeremy drew back, one last hard pull of his mouth that ended, eventually. The flat of his tongue rasped hard over the head of Simon's cock in farewell; Simon's muscles flushed with static. "Am I done already?" Jeremy asked, swiping the back of his hand across his lips. "Granted, I suppose you're ready, but I'd barely gotten started—"

      "Shut up," Simon suggested, his hand tightening in Jeremy's hair.

      Jeremy subsided, his little nearly-a-smirk flushed a suggestive red. "Yes, Simon."

      Simon, figuring that it had worked for him so far, used his grip on Jeremy's hair to encourage him upwards. "Stand up," he added, for good measure.

      Jeremy drifted to his feet, and Simon let go. Without waiting for permission Jeremy ran both hands back through his hair, putting it back to rights. His eyes dropped, then rose again; his smile grew. Spreading his hands, he raised both eyebrows, asking a silent question.

      Simon didn't have to think about it: he nodded at the bed behind Jeremy. Jeremy glanced over his shoulder, then looked back at Simon. "I take it that means that you'd like me to go get on the bed?"

      "I could throw you onto it instead, if you'd prefer that."

      "So you could." Jeremy swayed forward, his face stopping a hair's breadth from Simon's. Simon's unrestrained cock skittered across Jeremy's hip, leaving a little snail-trail behind on the black fabric of his briefs. Simon sucked in a breath. Jeremy pretended not to notice. "Would you like to?"

      "More and more with every passing second," Simon said, prodding at Jeremy's shoulder. "Get out of my face."

      Jeremy's tongue flicked out like a snake's, just barely grazing along Simon's lower lip, and then he was a healthy six inches away and wearing that innocent look again—"Yes, Simon."

      Simon sighed, planted both hands on Jeremy's chest, and shoved. Jeremy went reeling backwards, arms flicking out for balance. The edge of the bed hit him behind the knees and Jeremy fell onto it, bouncing hard enough to become airborne again for a fraction of a second. "You could have just said something," he said, sprawling out across the bed's surface and laughing up at the ceiling.

      "Oh, I'll say something," Simon said, going after him. He dropped onto the bed atop Jeremy, one knee pressing in between Jeremy's thighs and moving inexorably upwards. Jeremy, faced with a choice between moving up and ridiculous pain, chose to wriggle up. Once he had Jeremy where he wanted him, Simon leaned over him and yanked open the drawer of his nightstand.

      Jeremy put a hand on Simon's chest and watched Simon rummage around. Simon, watching for it, caught the faint flicker of surprise that crossed Jeremy's face when Simon's hand came out with not the expected condom but with his spare pair of handcuffs, instead—Simon kept them in there for emergencies much like this one, actually—and then the surprise was gone, replaced by something that was either amusement or exasperation. "You'll forgive me if I'm somewhat less intimidated by those than your usual run of bedpartners," Jeremy said.

      "Hands up," Simon said, ignoring that with every fiber of his being. "Over your head, through the bars, no funny stuff, I mean it."

      Obligingly Jeremy thrust his hands up through the slats of the bed's wooden headboard, his fingers just barely brushing against the wall. "Handcuffs, Simon," Jeremy said. "Honestly."

      Reaching back behind the headboard Simon crunched the cuffs down around one of Jeremy's wrists and then the other, leaving him manacled to the wooden slat in between his wrists. That done, before Jeremy could do so much as breathe twice, Simon slithered back down and put his nose an inch from Jeremy's. "Don't," he said. "Just... don't. Those don't come off you until I take them off. You're not going to pull any of your sneaky little tricks—you're going to wear them and like it. That's an order."

      The pause was slight, but it was there. "Yes, Simon," Jeremy finally said, relaxing. The chain of the handcuffs clinked. "Indeed, I think I'm learning to like it already."

      "Shut up," Simon said absently. A moment later, his eyes snapped into focus. "In fact, I think I'll make that an order, too. Until I take those cuffs off you, I don't want to hear another word out of your mouth. Not one. Got it?"

      Jeremy raised an eyebrow, but—catching on quickly—said nothing; instead, he nodded, his smile going crooked.

      "Good," said Simon, sitting up and putting a hand on Jeremy's stomach. "Noises are okay. I mean, I totally understand if you can't help but whimper some." He hesitated, eyes raking Jeremy from one end to the other: with his arms up over his head the entire shape of Jeremy changed, the muscle of his stomach becoming a long, concave curve with a star-shaped flaw on one edge. Simon flicked his thumb over the scar and gave in to a momentary, devilish urge. "And hey, if you've got something you absolutely have to say, just raise your hand."

      Jeremy paused, then glanced up at his hands, cuffed to the headboard. His lips thinned and his eyes widened as he tried not to laugh, resulting in an expression of purest dumbfounded hilarity. Simon hastily looked away before he could crack up, because he knew that if he started laughing then Jeremy would start laughing and then there they'd both be, laughing, and he had much better things to be doing right now. Accordingly, he swallowed his laugh and plucked thoughtfully at the waistband of Jeremy's underwear.

      Jeremy's own stifled laughter died away until only a quirk of smile was left. There was so little to Jeremy's underwear that his erection was almost more than it could handle: his briefs had pulled away from the arc of his lower belly to accommodate his cock, trapping it against his hip and leaving a gap in the waistband as wide as Simon's first two fingers. "You know, I'm starting to think you buy these things a size too small on purpose," Simon said, crooking a finger into that gap and pulling.

      He barely had to lift at all before Jeremy's cock popped free, thumping heavily against his belly just below his navel. Jeremy shut his eyes and huffed out a heartfelt, relieved breath. "Yeah, I'll bet," Simon said. "Lift up a little."

      Suddenly eager to oblige for some reason, Jeremy tilted his head back and pressed his shoulders into the mattress, his hips canting up out of the messy nest of the sheets. Simon stripped Jeremy's underwear off him without bothering to care much about its welfare. A couple of stitches gave way with a sharp popping sound; Jeremy's nostrils flared, but he swallowed whatever protest might have been forthcoming. Instead he settled warily back down, now wearing only a long-suffering expression and a pair of police-issue handcuffs.

      "Sorry about that," Simon lied, tossing Jeremy's underwear over his shoulder. Jeremy only snorted. "Yeah, you're right, I'm not sorry," Simon said. "However, you've got to admit that it was damned nice of me to say so anyway."

      Jeremy eyed him for a long minute, then stuck out his tongue and blew the most sarcastic raspberry that Simon had ever heard. Caught off-guard, Simon choked on half a laugh. "Eloquent," he said, putting his hand back on Jeremy's stomach.

      The exasperated look faded away, slowly. Jeremy's eyes dropped half-closed and the muscles under Simon's hand rippled and tightened. His cock jumped, nudging against Simon's wrist before thumping back down, this time dashing off a single droplet of clear fluid that splashed onto the skin by Jeremy's navel. Simon's belly did a slow roll, his own cock shifting slightly against his thigh. Suddenly he no longer felt much like laughing. "I'm going to assume that was some kind of request," he said, his voice going a little thick as he lifted his hand from Jeremy's stomach and grabbed his cock, instead.

      "Nnh," Jeremy said, squeezing his eyes shut, the last vestiges of his smile falling away. His stomach muscles tautened further, his cock shoving against Simon's palm almost of its own will. Simon gave it an experimental squeeze and managed to overcome Jeremy's inertia: craning his head back Jeremy squirmed urgently, hips shifting back and forth, thighs scrubbing against each other, feet pushing at the bed—Jeremy bit his lower lip and made a second, more demanding throaty sound, and although Simon knew that this was about eighty percent a show for his benefit, he currently did not care how contrived it was. It was like free porn. Any tentative plans Simon might have had to turn out the light were immediately discarded.

      "Overact much?" Simon asked after a few diverting seconds of this, mostly to let Jeremy know that he wasn't getting away with anything (and partially just to be an ass). His reward was a tiny flicker of grin that vanished off Jeremy's face almost as soon as it appeared, tongue tracing over his lower lip as if to wash it away. Simon gave Jeremy's cock another, harder squeeze, the muscles in his arm flexing as he bore down. Jeremy's eyes popped open and he tried to fold up around Simon's hand, even as his breath caught and his cock jumped and the chain of the handcuffs clattered against the headboard.

      Simon promptly dropped Jeremy's cock back onto his stomach and caught one of his upraised knees instead. "Hey, that's not bad," he said, pushing Jeremy's knee up until Jeremy's leg was folded up against his stomach. "Bring the other one up, too."

      Jeremy hesitated, then folded in on himself, knees to his chest, bare feet tucked neatly against the backs of his thighs, ass rolling up off the bed. Simon surveyed the scene and decided that it had promise. "Hey, you're getting better at this obedience thing," he said. "But now your legs are in my way, so..." Putting both hands on Jeremy's legs, he pushed them apart.

      Jeremy's thighs spread wide, the flexed muscle of them now leading Simon's eye inexorably inwards towards his cock, now nearly pushing against the lower curve of his ribcage. The light shifted on Jeremy's skin as his muscles tensed, keeping his legs exactly where Simon had put them, keeping his ass up off the bed, and Simon could not help but touch Jeremy's lower lip and then trace his finger aaaaall the way down... "That is one hell of a display," Simon said, cupping Jeremy's balls and watching the pulse jump in Jeremy's jaw. "I mean, seriously, I just want to take a picture with my cellphone and blackmail you with it forever." He thought about it, then added, "Maybe send a copy to Art Theft for your file—"

      Jeremy kicked him in the head. It was so quick that Simon actually momentarily believed that it had been some kind of involuntary reaction to what his fingers were doing—but he knew better. "Hey!"

      Somehow, even with his hands cuffed together over his head, Jeremy contrived to shrug, restraining a smile; his foot was already tucked against his thigh again. A moment later his tongue flicked out to touch his upper lip, turning innocence into insolence in a heartbeat.

      Simon eyed him sourly. "You know, I kind of thought that 'don't kick me in the head' was implied in 'and nothing more'," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "If I have to go through and list off absolutely everything that you're not allowed to do in this situation, it'll take hours, we'll both get cold and uncomfortable and nobody's going to be hard any more, and that would suck. So..." Simon dropped his voice to an authoritative growl. "Simon says don't move."

      Jeremy, already mostly still, froze. Simon could have sworn that he stopped breathing; it took him a few seconds to spot the subtle rise and fall of Jeremy's chest. "Better," he said, and leaning over Jeremy he rummaged around in the open drawer again.

      He was half-expecting another little spasm of disobedience, but Jeremy remained perfectly still, even when Simon's cock grazed the inside of his thigh. His breath sighed out between his teeth in an uneven and mostly-silent hiss, but that was all. Simon paused, then pulled back and did it again, his cock slithering along the deep crease between Jeremy's thigh and the superheated skin of his groin before coming to rest nudged up against Jeremy's own. Jeremy's cock twitched once, interested; Jeremy's face also twitched, his eyebrows flickering.

      Simon left it like that long enough for his groping fingers to locate what he'd been looking for. "Hold onto that, will you?" he said, dropping the condom onto Jeremy's chest. Bottle in hand he sat back up, the head of his cock pushing up against Jeremy's balls for a bare moment—Jeremy caught his breath. Simon pulled away, pleased, and popped open the bottle.

      The stuff wasn't cold, precisely. It felt like a ribbon of nothing on his fingers until Simon squeezed his hand shut. Simon rubbed his fingers together thoughtfully, producing a series of interesting little wet sounds and a low, slippery heat; Jeremy watched Simon's fingers move, his eyes half-shut. Already he was breathing harder. "Hold on," Simon said, running his first two fingers up along the underside of his own cock just to help maintain things down there—Jeremy watched him do that, too, craning his neck despite orders, his eyes lighting with sharp interest—and then without further ado Simon twisted the tips of his fingers into Jeremy.

      "Gnh!" Jeremy's head hit the pillow again, his cock jumping again, this time all on its own. The muscle of him tightened on Simon's fingers for half a moment before Jeremy hissed out a breath and forced himself to relax. Given something like permission Simon drove his fingers in further, burying them up to the second joint, watching Jeremy's stomach tauten and his eyes squeeze shut and his cock jump and one muscle high up on the inside of his thigh start up a rhythmic twitch, just behind where his thigh hollowed to connect to his groin, deep below the surface of his skin—but he didn't move, not exactly, and then Simon's fingers did something right and a long ripple of reaction shuddered up and down Jeremy's frame, setting him entirely in motion without his actually moving at all. The headboard creaked once, warningly, as the chain of the handcuffs chewed and splintered its edges.

      Simon's breath huffed out of him like he'd been punched in the stomach. Before he could really think about it he found himself arched forward over Jeremy, butting Jeremy's head aside in order to get a good solid mouthful of Jeremy's throat, Jeremy's cock jumping against his own again and again and again as Simon worked those two fingers in and out—no, he thought, admit it, he was fucking Jeremy with those fingers, really ramming them into him, and all the while Jeremy was shuddering and occasionally clamping down on Simon's fingers until Simon could have sworn he could hear bones creaking, and still his legs stayed just where Simon had put them, despite the bulk of Simon's chest doing its best to press them even further outwards... "Yeah, okay," Simon gasped, unsure why he said it, unsure of what he meant by it.

      His teeth had left red marks on Jeremy's throat and Simon washed them clean with his tongue before adding another set just below them. He splayed the rest of the fingers on that hand out across Jeremy's ass and revved up the pace to a speed halfway to insanity—the resulting sound rumbled up out of Jeremy's chest, subvocal for a handful of seconds before it broke across Simon's ears like a wave. "Nnn—" it wasn't a moan or a whimper or a groan or anything that Simon was familiar with, it was just one of those Jeremy noises, he didn't need to have it translated, he was pretty sure he knew what it meant "—nnn, nnn—" there was a faint ruddiness beginning to spread across Jeremy's cheeks, sweat gleaming on his skin "—nnn!—" Simon knew that if he kept this up, Jeremy would probably come without further help, he'd done it before "—nnhgk*" as the punctuated hum broke off long enough for Jeremy to suck in a breath. It seemed like as good a time as any, so Simon popped his fingers free again.

      Jeremy's eyes went wide, for a moment two perfect circles of white and brown in his face. Simon had barely even begun to enjoy that before those eyes half-closed again; with an effort Jeremy regained the ghost of a crooked little smile, still breathing hard. "You're not... fooling... anyone," Simon told him, wheezing. His hand slapped against Jeremy's chest and came up with nothing. "Fuck," Simon said, "where'd—"

      Jeremy shrugged one shoulder. Simon was about to tell him that that was not helpful, Archer when he saw a flash of red buried between that shoulder and Jeremy's neck; Simon grabbed for it, dredging up the condom that he'd knocked flying when he'd landed on Jeremy. The wrapper thwarted him for an absurdly long few seconds—didn't help that his fingers were slippery—and then finally deigned to give with a flash of its silver-foil innards. Simon poked a finger in and extracted the elusive little bastard, then had to waste another precious second or two making sure that he wasn't about to try and roll the damned thing on backwards. Christ, but he hated these things—he didn't really mind how they felt, and he was resigned to their necessity, but he hated how clumsy they made him, hated how they ground things to a halt at the worst possible time, hated how freaking cold they were in those first few seconds right after he rolled one on... steadying his cock with one hand Simon rolled the damn thing on with the other, shivering a little despite himself. He managed to get it on with a minimum of drama and embarrassment and then threw the wrapper onto the floor.

      He put a hand on Jeremy's upraised leg and looked up. Jeremy's head was craned up off the pillow again, all the better to watch, and his eyes flashed in the lamplight as they caught Simon's. For a heartbeat's worth of time they stared at each other, then the corner of Jeremy's mouth crooked up and Simon could only grin in answer. "Yeah," he said, still not sure why. Simon edged forward on his knees until the curve of Jeremy's ass butted up against the inside of his thighs and his white-sheathed cock jutted up into midair, laying across Jeremy's own. Jeremy's cock twitched, his smile fading again. "Guess you're ready," Simon muttered under his breath, grabbing Jeremy's ass in both hands and hauling it up off the bed by main strength.

      Jeremy huffed out a faint sound in either response or agreement—it sounded a little like a laugh, but the sound cut off abruptly as Simon hauled him up. "Stay," Simon said, once he'd gotten Jeremy's ass up high enough, and the headboard groaned as the handcuff chain snapped tight and every muscle in Jeremy's body tautened, keeping him in that impossible tucked-and-rolled position; with Jeremy's active aid Simon was able to free one hand to catch his cock again and push it down and into place, two fingers popping into Jeremy for just long enough for his cock to slide neatly in along them, bulling into that incredible heat. Simon's mouth fell open and he barely realized it, just shut his eyes and grabbed Jeremy's hips in both hands again and pulled Jeremy down onto his cock with one convulsive jerk.

      Jeremy's spine uncurled and jerked out straight—"Nnnnah!"—every muscle in his body popping into sharp relief as Simon dragged him down. And still his legs stayed where Simon had put them—Jeremy threw his head back against the pillow with such violence that Simon clearly heard it hit, even over the sound of his own rapid breathing.

      Panting a little himself, Simon grabbed for his control with both hands and caught it. This part would go a lot better if he got some cooperation, got Jeremy to help hold himself up, which would free his hands for other things... Simon ran one hand up along Jeremy's damp and quivering thigh. "I'm thinking you can move these now—"

      He got no further than that before Jeremy's legs flashed up and snapped closed, not around his waist but up around his neck, which was not at all what Simon had been expecting. Simon lurched forward under Jeremy's sudden weight before he caught himself, one hand on the bed. "Hey," he started to say, momentarily irritated, and just as quickly stopped as the irritation evaporated. He was good with this. Grabbing one of Jeremy's thighs in either hand Simon sat back up, Jeremy's ankles hooking together somewhere behind his head. "Okay," he said, leaning forward against Jeremy's legs, the weight of him keeping Jeremy levered up off the bed. "If that's the way you want it." He wrapped his arms around Jeremy's upraised thighs, getting a good grip.

      Jeremy's 'answer', such as it was, was presaged only by a subtle rippling of his stomach muscles, and only the clarity of the moment allowed Simon to see it coming—but seeing it coming and being prepared for its coming were two entirely different things. When Jeremy bore down on his cock, therefore, not all at once but in a long, hard, inexorable rolling motion that squeezed Simon's cock from one end to the other, it stole both Simon's breath and his voice. He gritted his teeth, his eyes falling half-shut, and lured by that demanding pressure he pulled back and slammed into Jeremy, once, then again.

      "Nnh," said Jeremy, the last remnants of his smile vanishing, and "Nnh!" he said again, forcing his eyes open. The sheer weight of Simon seemed likely to fuck him back into the headboard—that was more or less Simon's plan, really, inasmuch as he had a plan besides 'rrgh'—and with his hands chained there was only one way to catch himself: Jeremy slammed both hands back against the wall. The chain of the handcuffs, freed, swung back and forth and clattered whenever it hit anything, headboard or wall.

      Simon couldn't stop—digging his fingers into the taut muscle of Jeremy's thighs he worked his hips in a tight, flat circle, getting as much and as deep as he could, insensible to anything but what he wanted. The bed creaked repetitively (Simon could not bring himself to care about his downstairs neighbors) and the headboard slammed into the wall over and over (or his next-door neighbors, come to think about it) and over it all was the unmusical jangling of the handcuffs (nope, didn't care about those) and under it all were those throttled, choked noises (okay, he was interested about those). It took another of those breath-stealing mind-melting squeezes to knock him out of the rhythm and bring him back to awareness, and only then did he recognize the particular variety of breathless noise that Jeremy was making—"Sorry," Simon wheezed, not meaning it, and letting one hand drop from Jeremy's thigh he grabbed Jeremy's abandoned cock.

      Jeremy's mouth dropped open, but he managed to emit only a tiny, breathless "—hhhh—" sound as he jerked up into Simon's hand. Leaving him to it Simon fell back into the heavy, clutching lure of that rhythm, leaving his eyes open just a crack to watch the show. Jeremy's eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was still open, his head lolling on the pillow, his once-perfect hair everywhere; he was slick with sweat and taut as a wire, the muscles in his arms flexing as he fought not to get slammed into the headboard, the muscles in his stomach and hips and thighs all working as Jeremy drove himself back and up into every thrust—Simon bore down with both hands and Jeremy arched up into them, pressing his shoulders down into the mattress. Simon was momentarily very glad that he hadn't turned out the light. "Ngh," Jeremy choked, and Simon could only agree.

      Still, it was getting harder to keep his eyes open, and soon enough Simon wasn't even trying. Even hampered by the latex Simon was going to come soon, rapidly spiraling towards the point of no return. There was a knot in his lower belly that was growing tighter by the second, a deep, heavy ache in his gut, and soon his cock swelled that last final glorious bit and his balls tightened and Simon let his head drop, gasping through his open mouth as he lost himself in what was coming—Jeremy gasped out a bark of breathless laughter and found him again. "Simon," Jeremy said, clear as day, managing even in his urgency to make of it a low, throaty, taunting purr.

      Startled, Simon jerked his head up just as Jeremy arched his back and came, hard, his body canted up at such an impossible angle by now that he came less in Simon's hand and more on his own chest, and somehow even in this extremity Jeremy was wearing that perfectly insolent little grin again, and Simon was a witness to it all—"Cheating," Simon wheezed, and "... bastard..." and "...terrible—" At this obedience thing, he'd sort of meant to add, but there was no way he could stop now and throw Jeremy out no matter what he'd threatened a thousand years ago, and then the knot in his stomach sprang open with almost physical force and Simon pressed his face against Jeremy's leg and slammed his cock in as deep as it would go and came

      By the time his mind cleared enough to make Simon aware of his surroundings again, he was slumped forward against the bulwark of Jeremy's upraised legs. Had they not been there he'd have fallen straight down onto Jeremy's sticky chest and probably squashed Jeremy in the process, which would have been no less than the bastard deserved. Simon grunted out a weary little sound and tugged at Jeremy's thigh. "Down," he croaked.

      Jeremy's legs unwound and dropped without demur—in fact, most of Jeremy's lower half fell with them, and Simon barely managed to grab the base of the condom before Jeremy's collapse pulled him right off Simon's still-mostly-hard cock. They both made little strangled sounds, but then it was over and Simon felt free to inch back and collapse on the first bit of mostly-unoccupied bed real estate that he came across, dropping his head onto Jeremy's thigh and not caring. Simon shut his eyes and concentrated on catching his breath. "You can go ahead and take those off now, since apparently you can't be bothered to obey any of my other orders."

      Jeremy's only response was a faint, breathy laugh and a stealthy jingling sound; a moment later the handcuffs clattered back into the open drawer and one hand found its way into Simon's hair.


I'm starting to get the hang of writing porn again, I think. This isn't perfect, by a long shot, but I'm more or less satisfied. The biggest problem is that I'm long since used to writing stripped-down rapidly-paced prose with these two, and this kind of deliberate, overly-sensual wallowing feels awkward in comparison. I'll live with it.