Chapter Text
The door swings open with a thud and they tumble inside in an uncoordinated tangle of limbs, filling the semi-dark room with the sounds of suppressed moans and drunken giggling. They don't bother looking for the light switch, clumsy fingers otherwise engaged, and Lee pushes Richard further into the room as he kicks the door closed behind him, shutting out the light from the hallway. He can't believe they're doing this.
"I can't believe we're doing this," he says as he slides his hands under Richard's jacket and around his waist, encountering warmth and crisp cotton and the solidity of muscle underneath. Overly full from all-you-can-eat sushi and drunk on sake, they've aborted their cab ride across Manhattan before their backseat fumbling got out of hand and rented a room at the first halfway decent hotel they saw, the risks be damned. Lee hopes it's one of those places where a generous tip can buy discretion, because he's sure that their flushed faces and disheveled appearance have left no doubt in the hotel manager's mind as to why they're here.
Richard drops the room key on the nearest surface. "I can't believe they don't rent out rooms by the hour," he replies, laughing when Lee gasps in shock and taking his face between his hands as he hauls him in for an aggressively open-mouthed kiss.
Richard's hands. They're what started this in the first place, they're the reason why Lee left the sushi place so worked up that he couldn't hold out until they were home. He's a sucker for nice hands and Richard's are perfect, broad and strong and masculine and all the more arousing because Lee knows what they can do, what those hands feel like on his chest, his hips, his thighs, his cock. He knows how quickly those fingers can have him begging, buried deep inside him. He whimpers with shameless anticipation at the thought and arches his body toward Richard's, inviting that slick, masterful tongue to fuck his mouth. All his senses are attuned to Richard and Richard alone-- the sounds he's making as they kiss, the lingering taste of alcohol barely masked by that complimentary after dinner mint, the scent of his favorite cologne that Lee can never remember the name of, but it's ridiculously expensive and manly and so very Richard.
But those hands. He's been watching them all evening and Richard knows it-- that bastard has been playing an exhilarating game tonight, teasing Lee all through dinner with subtle gestures, almost-touches and one or two stolen caresses under the table. For all his shyness, Richard is a fucking master of seduction if he wants to be; it is one of the many paradoxes that make up the man whose air of quiet, brooding intensity drew Lee in from the moment they met, and that instinctual attraction hasn't withered since. It's always there, smoldering right under the surface, ready to flare up at a touch, a look, a simple word. Lee has never experienced anything like this, has never needed anyone's touch so badly that he literally can't draw breath. There have been times when it scares him, when a voice inside tells him that some day soon he's going to wake up from this incredible dream, that this thing is doomed to burn up fast and hot like a shooting star streaking across the sky, but here they are, three years in and still going strong. Three years in and still hungry for each other like two sex-crazed teenagers. By all rights, they should have entered a more sedate phase by now, but everything Lee thought he knew about relationships has been rewritten by this man, with his eyes and his smile and his voice and his hands, god, those big sexy hands that Lee just longs to have all over him right now.
He breaks away from the kiss to shimmy out of his jacket and button-down, carelessly tossing both aside. "Touch me," he begs, pulling his T-shirt out of the waistband of his jeans and grabbing Richard's hand to put it against his bare skin. "I want your hands, Rich, please lemme feel your hands."
Richard sucks in a breath through his teeth and slips his hands underneath the fabric, pushing it up as he shifts higher. His fingers are cool on Lee's abdomen, drawing goose flesh and an involuntary shiver. "Sorry, cold," he mutters apologetically.
"Doesn't matter, baby, I'll warm you up." Lee weaves his fingers into Richard's hair and tugs hard enough to make him grunt. Their mouths crash together once more and they kiss, slick and teethy and turned-on, blindly shuffling further into the room until Lee backs into something that turns out to be a heavy armchair. Lee sneaks a glance over his shoulder and sees the bed looming beyond, ten paces at most, but it may as well be a thousand. Richard is now kissing his neck and attentively caressing the skin of his abdomen and chest, the rough pads of his thumbs teasing at Lee's nipples before his other fingers splay and dig into firm muscle. Like an accordionist his instrument, he holds and cradles and plays and manipulates Lee with care and acquired skill, his fingers endlessly patient in finding and exploiting all their favorite spots on Lee's body, much too patient for Lee's liking.
"Need more, Rich," he rasps, grabbing and pulling at the lapels of Richard's jacket. "C'mon, take it off. And the shirt and tie."
Richard chuckles and obligingly begins to strip, not taking his eyes off Lee's as he chucks the jacket and tilts his chin up while his fingers go for the collar, making quick work of the double windsor. The silken material of the tie whispers as it slides free, and it is that sound that snaps Lee into action, hands tearing unceremoniously at Richard's designer dress shirt. Impatiently they peel away the layers until finally, they are pressed together chest to chest, skin to skin, and Richard's mouth is on his again, kissing him as if it's their last day on earth, while his hands - Lee has never been so hyper-aware of those hands before, god - slide around to squeeze Lee's ass and drag him forward. Their hips slot together like puzzle pieces and then Richard fucking grinds so that Lee can feel through both their jeans how hard Richard is for him, how loudly his body is saying the words that his lips won't, not until they are well and truly loosened by lust. Lee has every intention of getting Richard to that point before the night is over.
"Feel," he breathes as he takes one of Richard's hands and guides it to his front, to where the hard swell of his erection is clearly visible through the denim of his jeans. He leans back on the armchair and pushes out his hips as Richard's fingers trace and cup, saying huskily, "That's for you, lover."
Richard shudders and Lee smiles, knowing full well how that particular term of endearment revs Richard's engines. He tries not to overuse it, doesn't want it to lose its magic, and so far it has not let him down. He groans and lets his head fall back as Richard's fingers find his tip and rub it in circling movements. "Ah, fuck. Want your hands, Rich. Take it out, now."
Richard yanks at Lee's belt with practised fingers, leaning in to nuzzle the exposed line of Lee's throat and mark it as conquered territory with kisses and tiny licks of his tongue. Lee also feels the sharp drag of teeth and emits a rumbling groan, tangling his fingers into Richard's hair and holding him right where he is. If Richard is biting this early in the game, that means he's feeling possessive tonight, and possessive Richard guarantees mindblowing sex.
Richard pulls Lee's belt through the loops until it slides free and lets it fall at their feet, kicking it out of the way. There's a pop and a metallic zip but instead of going for the prize Richard suddenly changes tactics, his hands returning to knead Lee's ass while his tongue plays its favorite game of connect-the-dots with Lee's shoulder freckles. It's all too much; Lee is so hard with anticipation that he's throbbing with it, and he doesn't like the way Richard is stalling one bit. "Taking too damn long," he admonishes, giving Richard's hair a sharp tug and earning himself a hum and a chuckle. "C'mon, Rich, touch me already." It comes out a little whiny but he doesn't care, all he cares about is having Richard's hands on his dick right fucking now.
"You're a brat, Lee." Richard uses his deep voice, his sex voice, the one that turns Lee's blood to liquid fire and sparks lust in his belly. "But god, I do love it when you beg." His fingers finally slip under the elastic of Lee's briefs and pull them down along with his jeans, and Lee exhales an audible sigh of relief as his cock juts free, hot-red and aching and already moist at the tip.
"Yeah," Richard murmurs as his fingers reach down and touch, lightly, reverently almost, and there's a little smile on his face to go with the glint in his eye. It's a look Lee knows very well, and he shivers and plants his feet wider as Richard's grip on him tightens, his strokes intensify. "This what you want then, baby? This enough to get you off?"
Lee tries to answer but can't, biting his lip to stifle a cry when Richard's hand changes pace, twists faster, squeezes harder. He pauses to play with the foreskin and thumb the slit and Lee is a mess already, his knees buckling treacherously so that he has to grab Richard's shoulder just to stay upright. Even so, he tries to move in tandem with Richard, pressing himself eagerly into that firm grip. "So good," he gasps, lifting his eyes to meet Richard's hungry blue gaze. "So fucking good, Rich, the things you do to me."
"I love doing things to you," Richard growls in response, dragging Lee closer still. He twists his arm and Lee can feel the shift of bone and muscle in his shoulder as he slowly jerks him off in a narrow fist. "I love doing things to this cock, watching your face when you're getting close, moaning my name and begging to be fucked."
Lee moans because he just can't help it, a warm flush of arousal and need spreading through his body as he clutches at Richard's shoulders and fucks his cock into that rough palm faster, the sounds of it growing louder and slicker by the second. He doesn't even care that his jeans are pooling around his knees in a messy, undignified heap, all he sees and feels is Richard, solid, gentle, quiet Richard who right now is filling his ear with filthily-worded encouragements and praises.
"So gorgeous, baby." Richard's voice is low as his lips move against the skin of Lee's throat, accompanied by the familiar scratch of stubble. Another sharp twist of his wrist has Lee arching his back, panting, and Richard thickly murmurs, "God, Lee, I wanna suck you off so bad, please can I?"
"Why are you asking for fucking permission?" Lee retorts, at which Richard grins and kisses him before dropping to his knees none too gracefully, due to the sake. He continues to palm Lee's cock in a loose, less demanding grip as he leans in and presses his mouth to one of Lee's thighs, then the other, then both hipbones, and finally the swollen tip of his cock. Lee, watching, shudders as he sees those perfect lips parting slightly and slowly brushing the glans, nudging and teasing the slit until a small gush of liquid spills out. Richard opens his mouth wider to catch it, but some of it trickles down his chin. Blue eyes look up briefly and Lee gasps at that image of Richard kneeling between his legs with precome glistening in his stubble. He reaches down to wipe it away with his thumb and before he even knows he's about to speak, the contents of his heart are welling up and spilling out through his mouth. "You're so fucking beautiful, Rich."
There is a beat and for a moment Richard seems too taken aback to respond, not because Lee hasn't told him this before - because he has, countless times - but because of the timing. Finally he smirks, his hand twitching back to life, and he says, "Shut up, you sappy old git, and enjoy."
Lee releases an unsteady breath as Richard grips him anew and licks a broad, wet stripe from the tip of his cock to the base and all the way back up. His free hand comes up to cradle and squeeze heavy balls, at which Lee moans and parts his legs as wide as he can, cursing the tangle of denim around his knees.
"You want this gone, love?" Richard, ever attuned to Lee's needs, helps him out of his shoes and socks and then peels the jeans off as well. Now Lee stands completely naked, and he lets out a hum of appreciation as Richard gets back to work with hands and mouth. He's thorough as always, not leaving an inch of Lee's cock unkissed and unlicked, and even though he's shaved just that morning his stubble is rough where it rubs repeatedly against Lee's thighs and shaft. Once, Lee lets a hiss escape him, but when Richard immediately stops, he reaches down and pulls his head back to where it was. The hair on Richard's head is silken soft in comparison, cropped short on the sides and slightly longer on top, and Lee allows his fingers to establish a firm grip as Richard finally, finally takes him down his throat.
For a moment Lee's eyes flutter back into his head, but then he forces himself to watch again, because there isn't a better sight in the world than this, the bob of Richard's throat and the work of muscle as he noisily sucks and swallows, opening his throat to more and more of Lee's cock. Once he sinks down fully, he keeps still, using his fingers to massage Lee's ballocks and perineum. He has perfect control, and Lee tries to repay him by staying still when all he wants is to fuck in hard. He groans at the thought and for a moment his restraint slips-- his hips buck involuntarily and Richard gulps in response, eyelashes twitching rapidly against his cheeks. Lee startles and stills immediately, berating himself for having caused Richard hurt, but his fears are put to rest when Richard slides his hands around to cup his buttocks and drag him closer. After that sign of permission, Lee can't hold back anymore and he quickly builds up a rhythm of pulling back and rocking in with measured strokes, until he feels one of Richard's hands sliding down his cleft and teasing at his opening. It is then that his hips begin to stutter, the last thread of control snapping, and he tugs at Richard's hair in warning. "Rich, so close, gonna shoot."
Richard raises his pupil-blown eyes to Lee's face and that's it, Lee's cock pulses as it goes in deep and he shouts something resembling Richard's name as climax takes him with a rush of white heat that expands from his loins and rapidly travels the length of his limbs, leaving him boneless and panting and slumping against the chair that is the only thing responsible for keeping him upright. "Holy shit," he mutters once he has some breath to spare. "That was something else, babe. It's been a while since you let me fuck your face like that."
Richard chuckles and clears his throat. "Well, I thought you deserved something a little extra special today," he says in a hoarse voice that calls to mind images of that London summer, Richard gobbling down Nurofen like it was candy and drinking tea with honey by the gallons to counteract the toll Proctor took on his voice. A fondly remembered summer of hard work rewarded by standing ovations and leisurely strolls on the banks of the Thames. He nuzzles Lee's thigh and affectionately adds, "Happy anniversary, Lee."