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there’s just something about the heat that turns people into animals. it’s the peak of july, and the sun is blazing. it’s almost too hot for the festival, but people have come out in droves. the sleeping on the ground and lack of proper facilities are doubtless only adding to the untamed atmosphere among the festival-goers, but the heat most of all seems to be getting to people.
it’s getting to jez.
when they’re on stage, jon does that thing where he sings like he’s pleading. jeremy watches as a bead of sweat rolls down his neck and disappears under his shirt collar. in fact, he’s watching jon almost the entire time they’re on stage; he takes a moment to entertain alex, who comes over with his guitar and his ridiculously pullable fringe and his mouth , and he’d usually entertain him, but jez can’t pull his eyes away from jon.
he’s such a showman. he’s such a performer . jez is always mildly captivated by his stage presence, the thick veil of overconfidence he puts on for the crowd. he’s almost smug about it, always has this little smirk on his mouth that jeremy so desperately wants to wipe off his face. he’s always aware of jon, but he’s not always so hungry for him.
the show goes well; the crowd is responsive, for a festival crowd. it's not their show, but that almost makes it better: there's so much day left after their set. jeremy knows alex and mike were planning on going to another one of the stages, but there's something inside him that knows jon won't go with them. he's not planning on doing so, either. this is the sole reason that jon won’t follow them out into the crowds.
he’s going back to their hotel. there is no uncertainty in his mind that jon will follow him. they’ve not talked about this, but jeremy knows it beyond doubt. there’s something in the air, something floating between them that is unacknowledged and dangerous. it’s the way jon moves on stage, the way he sings, chooses to whine and practically beg the notes right into jeremy’s earpiece. it’s the adrenaline rush of the show. it’s the heat.
jez doesn’t hang around. he says his thank yous and his well dones and slips almost unnoticed from the post-show flutter. he gives jon less than ten minutes until he realises that he’s gone. he gets a cab back to the hotel, purposely lets himself bake in the backseat, the sun beating in through the windows. as brits, the heat is a foreign concept. the few days of blazing sunshine every year make people go into survival mode; animal instincts kick in. it’s all about needs, primitive desires. as aware of this fact as jeremy is, it doesn’t stop it from being true. this is about needs.
he worries his thumbnail between his teeth the whole cab ride. it’s not that he’s worried jon won’t follow him, because he will. he might not even know why he’s doing it, but as soon as jon realises he’s gone he’ll be in a car to the hotel. he’s just anxious for it to happen already; he feels like a cat, like a lion, poised and ready to pounce, to sink his teeth into a gazelle. he knows jon wants to be pounced on and devoured.
his phone buzzes as he’s waiting for the lift. it’s jon: have you left? he fires back a one-word confirmation, just a casual, yeah , and he knows the wheel is in motion. he fixes his hair in the elevator mirror. when it reaches his floor, he stands by the mouth of the lift and waits.
every time the doors open, his heart jumps into his throat. sometimes there’s just one person, sometimes two, sometimes more, but none of them are his boy. he hopes more than anything that jon comes up alone. he wants to kiss him, wants to grab him in indecent ways the second he steps out of the lift. christ, this heat.
not twenty minutes go by before he’s there. he’s caught unawares by jez waiting outside the lift, and his eyes widen as jeremy crosses the space between them to grab him. thank fuck he’s on his own, because seeing him again, still in his stage clothes, rushes straight to jez’s head and he grabs his shirt, pulling him in close. jon’s eyes widen, but he seems perfectly willing to be pulled.
jon’s not one for kissing anywhere too public, despite jez’s penchant for having him anywhere and everywhere, but the hotel corridor is empty, and jez can’t resist the opportunity to shove him up against the wall a couple of times on the short journey from the lifts to his room. jon’s body is hot, his breath is hot, coming out in short, excited little puffs as if he ran here. he sometimes pushes back if jez is too rough too quickly, he likes to have the upper hand at least for a moment before they do anything involving an exchange of power, but this isn’t like that, not really. this isn’t about power; this is about needs.
that doesn’t mean jez doesn’t smirk wickedly when they get into the room and he pushes jon against the door, and the back of his skull makes a dull thud as it collides with the wood. he groans under his breath, right against jeremy’s mouth, which makes him go in for another kiss, hungry and breathing hard, teeth scraping against jon’s lip. they haven’t spoken a word to each other this entire time, and jez almost wants to laugh at what a picture they are, but the thought doesn’t have room to expand in his head. he doesn’t want to think, he wants jon. the hotel room has air conditioning. he does not want to turn it on.
they part briefly for breath after jez bites his lip so hard he tastes blood. he likes it. jon has these big, wide eyes like a cornered animal, so very blue. his lips are flushed pink, and if jez looks closely he can see the small beads of blood right on the swell of his lower lip. he thumbs them off and sucks the pad of his finger clean. jon’s mouth quirks up in a smile.
“i knew you’d follow me,” jez breathes out, almost teasing. with jon backed against the door, their height difference is striking. he makes a point of bracketing him in with a large hand splayed on the wood beside his head
“i know,” jon says, in this small voice that makes jez want to push his fingers up inside of him. his chest is heaving. jeremy sets a hand flat on it, and feels jon’s heart pounding his ribcage.
jez wants to say something else, but jon’s mouth is right there and he can’t resist kissing it again. jon makes this pathetic whimpering noise and weakly pulls on the front of jez’s shirt, trying to get him closer. the message is clear: he wants more. jez pulls him by his clothes towards the bed, still pristinely made. you can barely tell he’s been in the room except for his bag on the chair in the corner, unopened. he backs jon against the bed and he falls easily, without jez even having to do much, landing on the comforter in the most endearingly ungraceful way. jez leaves him for a moment, the only moment he thinks he has in him, to rummage through his bag until his fingers make contact with the little bottle of lube he’d brought just in case of this exact eventuality.
he’d seen the weather forecast, after all.
once he’s got what he needs, he’s straight back to jon, straddling his lap on the edge of the bed and pulling him in needily, savouring how small he looks and feels when they’re in this position. he starts by kissing his mouth, noting now that the initial headrush has worn off that he tastes of beer. he likes that. his mouth strays quickly, because there’s just so much skin he could be kissing; he drags his lips across jon’s jawline, mouthing messily at the skin, occasionally grazing with teeth. the kissing morphs into trying to suck a mark into his throat, just about above his collar. he knows the others will see it later and know exactly what they did. good, he thinks, let them see.
it’s very rare that their sex is this spontaneous and desperate. they’ve had quick, desperate shags before, usually in places they shouldn’t have been, but it doesn’t usually feel this needy, this urgent. jon lets out a delicious whimper as jeremy sucks on his fluttering pulse point.
“this is in the way,” jez breathes out against his skin, feeling jon shudder. he pulls at his t-shirt. “take it off.”
jon likes direction, he likes stern. he does as he’s told. jez follows suit just so more of their skin can touch, and pushes him back onto the cool sheets. he’s already sweating a little, just a sheen to his chest, and he can tell jon is starting to feel the heat as well, but he likes it. he could crack the window, but it’s better this way, all hot and desperate. he’s already impatient to get his fingers inside jon’s body.
it’s worth the wait to hear the noises jon makes when jez messily mouths down his torso. his skin is warm to touch. he’s barely even done anything yet, and jon is whimpering.
this is different, too, because usually it takes a bit of work to get a sound out of him, usually he needs a little help letting go of himself. not today. jez thinks he knows why. he thinks it’s the weather.
he works down jon’s body until he’s forced to slip off the mattress and onto his knees at the foot of the bed, between jon’s legs. he tugs at his belt and fly roughly, working his jeans off and letting them join the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. jon is hard, cock resting heavy on his thigh, a bead of precum drooling tauntingly from the tip. jez doesn’t take him into his mouth, even though he’s desperate to, because he doesn’t want it to become that. he wants to make jon come with his body, not just his mouth. he swipes the bead of moisture with his fingertip and sucks it clean, relishing in the breathy noise jon lets out at the slight touch.
the urge to kiss and bite and suck at the warm salt of his bandmate is warring with the desire to roughly open him up and then fuck him as if their lives depend on it. he compromises by finding the bottle again in the sheets and slicking his fingers, teasing jon with them for a moment while he mouths over his thigh. jon’s breath hitches, and he pushes a hand into jez’s hair, the other resting on his chest as he gasps. jez bites and mouths across the pale, soft skin of his inner thigh, pushing his fingers inside just as his mouth reaches the join of jon's thigh and hip. he sucks at the skin, trying to note how jon reacts as he moves his fingers inside him. he curls them up towards his tummy and scissors then gently as he kisses the sensitive skin, more working to get jon ready to take his cock than focusing on his pleasure. jez is still wearing his jeans, and his cock is straining uncomfortably against the denim. he's desperate to be inside jon now, to feel the heat of his body surrounding and squeezing him.
on another day he might have taken longer to open jon up, but he's burning up with the desire to just have him, and he's sure jon can take it. maybe he wants it to burn a little bit. there's sweat gathering on the back of his neck.
he withdraws his fingers and stands, towering over jon where he's laid out on the mattress. jon is looking up at him with the brightest eyes he's ever seen, and jez feels dizzy. he looks like he's about to be devoured. he looks like he wants it. jez undoes his belt, desperate to get out of his clothes, cursing under his breath as his cock is freed. he sees jon watching, his pink tongue coming out to wet his lips, and jez thinks he can see them staying in this room for the rest of the day. the sun doesn't seem to be waning in intensity. neither does jez's desire.
he goes down onto the cool sheets and jon sits up to meet him, halfway asking for a kiss, but jez doesn't indulge him. he grips jon's hips and guides him to turn, which he does, ever obedient, ever happy to be told what to do. jez strokes a hand over the curve of his arse, dragging his nails along the pale skin and watching red trails rise in their wake.
"please," jon murmurs, so soft jez almost doesn't hear him. jeremy wants to make him plead. on any other day, he'd tease jon until he was begging for it, fuck his thighs or kiss him everywhere but the place he wants it most just to hear him plead, but this is different. jez feels dizzy. he wants jon so badly that it aches.
he finds the bottle in the sheets again and slicks himself liberally; he doesn’t want jon to be in any real discomfort, just to know the force of this driving want inside him. he needs jon to know how hungry he is for him all of the time. if he can’t put all of that into this one instance of sex, he thinks he’ll go insane.
when he pushes inside, jon makes this delicious, whimpery mewling noise, and almost all of jeremy’s brain functions cease. if the hunger was incessant before, now he needs to actively devour jon’s whole body just to stay sane. he groans and grabs at jon’s soft hips, digging his fingertips into the delicate skin of his belly, desperately hoping to leave bruises. jon is so hot, so tight around him, squeezing him perfectly and making his whole body prickle with desire. he’s being vocal, whimpering and gasping as he gets used to the sensation and jez grinds his hips into his arse, not moving yet, just pressed inside him to the hilt.
his hands can’t be still for long, and he runs one up jon’s body from underneath, over his tummy and up to his chest, fingers teasing his nipples and making him breathe out these pathetic little moans. jez presses his chest to jon’s back, his thighs bracketing jon’s own, the smaller man’s whole body pinned beneath his. one of jon’s hands is gripping the comforter tight, and the other fumbles back to find some part of jez to hold on to. the message is clear to jeremy, this is something they do fairly often. he takes jon’s wrist and pulls his arm behind his back. jon keeps his other hand fisted in the sheets, so jez grabs and pulls, maybe a little more forceful than necessary, but if it aches, jon doesn’t seem perturbed. he pins both of his wrists against the small of his back, forcing him to press his face against the bed. in this position, he’s so entirely jeremy’s, his body entirely at his mercy, and jon fucking likes it. he squeezes around jez’s cock as another whimper rises from his throat.
jez can’t wait any longer, and he’s sure jon will show him if he’s moving too soon, so he lets himself start to fuck into him, just slow at first, but not for long. jon responds like touch paper, he’s slightly muffled with his face pressed into the comforter, but he’s making all these perfect little noises, bordering on pitiful, like a caught animal.
the pace picks up quickly; jez usually has more impulse control, but this feeling is threatening to burn him up from inside. the sound of their skin making contact, sweat-slicked and bare, is loud in the otherwise quiet hotel room, not even the hum of a.c. to cut through it. jez can’t help the almost primal noises that spill from his throat; he genuinely feels like a creature in a rut, like the only thing that matters in the world is roughly fucking jon into this hotel bed.
jon struggles weakly against his hold, but this is a game they always play. jez keeps him pinned with one hand and the weight of his body, and jon knows he will. the purpose is never to get free, but to prove to himself the physical power that jeremy has over him. this time, though, it makes jez growl and lean in closer, pressing their bodies together that bit more. he presses a fleeting kiss to jon’s nape, then dips his head to the place where his neck meets his shoulder, and licks a bead of sweat from the skin. jon breathes out a moan, which turns into another pathetic mewl when jez sinks his teeth into the skin.
the taste of him is driving jez insane. it’s so fucking hot in here, and jon’s skin is warm against his tongue, intoxicating. his free hand struggles for purchase on jon’s slick skin, and he settles with dragging his blunt nails down his chest, finishing up on his hip again and squeezing hard once more, his mind turning over the thought of more bruises. he can’t focus on any one spot on his neck or shoulders long enough to think about leaving a mark, desperate as he is to bite and kiss all over every inch he can reach.
jon is rolling his hips back to meet jez on every thrust now, and it’s making him feel even more feral. he knows this isn’t going to last much longer, but it was never going to. his hand slips from jon’s hip to find his cock, which is drooling and hard between his thighs now. jeremy groans against his mouthful of jon’s neck. jon, in response, gives this full-body shudder, and a noise that’s closer to a sob than a moan.
he starts to pump him roughly, almost sloppily, in time with his hips snapping forward. jon is letting out the most gorgeous noises now, and jez can feel that he’s entirely relaxed, content being fucked like this, no power whatsoever. maybe this isn’t just about needs. jez doesn’t care. he fucking loves that. he loves jon. he pauses his biting to kiss at his stubbled jaw again, smirking against his skin as jon stretches his neck to allow him more access.
“you make me crazy,” he growls against jon’s ear, feeling the tension beginning to build in his stomach. jon just groans in response, squeezing down around his cock again. “i fucking mean it. fuck, you think i’d be like this with anyone else?”
the praise makes jon whimper, and jez likes that. he’s getting close, but he wants to feel jon come first, wants to make him shake and convulse around his cock. he slows his thrusts a little, focusing entirely on touching jon the way he likes, twisting his wrist as he strokes over his leaking cockhead. he can’t stay entirely still, but it only adds to the experience for jon, who is gasping below him in moments.
“jez,” he groans, arching his back and grinding back against his cock, making jeremy hiss. “fuck, please.”
“please what?” jez murmurs. jon practically sobs. he’s never been good at asking for what he wants.
a moment passes, but it’s clear that whatever is getting to jez is getting to him too, because he’s so much less nervous than he normally would be to say, “please make me come.”
that does it for jez. he can’t restrain himself anymore, and he starts to fuck into jon’s deliciously hot body again, snarling curses in his ear. jon still sounds so perfectly prey-like, and he lets out a wail as he comes, muffled into the sheets but still enough to bring jez to the edge.
his hips lose rhythm with jon pulsing around him and he bites down on his shoulder again, grunting against his skin as his orgasm crashes through him. he shoves into jon’s body one final time, his cock pulsing as he comes inside him, so perfectly animalistic and desperate, as if he’s fervently marking jon as his, as thoroughly as he can.
they’re still, in the moments afterwards, chests heaving in tandem, the air in the room suddenly heavy and quiet without their noises. jez’s heart is pounding, and he’s sure jon can feel it against his back. he releases jon’s wrists, and his hands fall limply at his sides, and he sinks down flat onto his stomach as jez eases out of him. his cock is followed by a dribble of his cum, and he can’t resist the urge to swipe it up with two of his fingers and lick them clean. jon whimpers pathetically at the touch, twitching weakly at the added stimulation to his already fried nerves.
it’s all of a sudden stifling in the room. jez smiles, shaking his head fondly as he lays down by jon, so he can look him in the face. they’re both sweating and it stinks of sex in here, but his first priority is checking in on his boy. anything with even a slight exchange of power is intense for jon, and proper sex is always a lot too. jez feels very grateful that he let him have what he wanted.
jon’s eyes are closed, lashes fanned out against his flushed cheeks. he looks beautiful. when he opens them after a few long moments, his nose wrinkles and his mouth breaks open in a smile. it’s contagious.
“where the fuck did that come from?” he asks, almost incredulous, a laugh making his voice waver. jez can’t help but laugh with him, leaning in to kiss his mouth, just because he’s there and he’s jon .
“i don’t know,” he says, feeling the flush on his cheeks deepen. “i think it’s the weather.”