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David’s skin is soft under his fingers, warmly glowing under the sunlight slowly starting to seep into the room. The gentle raise and dip of his pelvic bones, up the lean muscles in his torso that spasmed under his touch, the few short, bristly hairs he could feel wanting to grow back and mar how smooth his chest was.
Alan buried his nose into the crook of the singer’s shoulder, and his hands went back down again. He lost count how many times he’s been mentally telling himself he shouldn’t do this. But then again, so has Dave. It won’t happen this time, they think the same thing and know full well that it’s fucking lie and something seizes the moment and they’re doing things they shouldn’t be doing as older men in relationships.
At least Dave knows when to stop him, as hard as it is to get lost under the other’s fingers, the little words in his ear that still make his breathing shudder. He knows when a kiss has gone too heavy, when their arousals are both a bit too obvious, that the heat they’re feeling isn’t just the radiator shitting itself, Alan’s told that lie too many times.
They’ll remember it, dream about it, instead. Whether they were sweating under layers of leather and not getting anywhere, or peeling off one white piece of clothing after another, or pulling dark, long hair and admiring the 10 hours it took to create the piece on Dave’s back as Alan rode what little sobriety he had left out of him.
There’s a heavy pat, pat against Alan’s wrist, who was lost in the scent of Dave’s skin in the morning mixed with his own linens. “Mn?”
“Alan, don’t.”
His hands stopped, glancing down at where his hands wanted to disappear into. He sighed, his nose against Dave’s neck, and let his hands rest on his waist instead. “They’re my sweatpants, you know, I couldn’t tell.”
“I was also asking you to stop about four times.”
“Well I can’t hear you if you whisper it.”
Dave huffed, driving them both into an impasse. He leaned back against Alan, looking out the window. “I should get going, soon. I wouldn’t mind breakfast, though?” He turned his head and smiled, and could feel Alan smiling against his shoulder.
“You realize, though, that if we move, it doesn’t necessarily going to mean I’m going to detach from you,” Alan reminded politely, kissing along Dave’s neck as the singer laughed. “I like making these last, bloody sue me.”
Dave laughed again, tapering off into a couple of amused hums as his head idled to the side and Alan’s lips followed up more of his neck. He should tell him to stop, being mindful of the hands slowly drifting down from his waist. Alan was waiting for it, to be honest, each lingering press of his lips to his neck could be the last for the day and then the last for who knows the months, year or two, that they would see each other again.
“Alan,” Dave finally said.
He sighed, about to back away, hands on his wrists, but the little pat, pat motions didn’t follow it. They were held.
“…what’s one more going to hurt?”
There’s an immediate pause, and Dave turns around to Alan’s surprised face, “I mean-well fuck not ‘that’, but… something lighter, perhaps, I mean we’re both standing, I-what?”
Dave stops, pursing his lips in. “You’re serious,” Alan says eventually.
“Well, yes. Not the full thing, no, god no, never, but just-”
“You can’t help yourself, huh,” Alan starts to smile, backing Dave up until he was flush against the wall. He could see the singer swallow his nerves, and he can’t help but get a little coy. “After all these years?”
Dave smiles back, almost defensive. “Neither can you, you barely questioned the idea and here you a-ah-”
He doesn’t expect Alan’s hands to go immediately down the front of his pants, pushing him further against the wall, making Dave arch his back.
“After all these years,” he repeats himself, closer to Dave’s face, curling his hand around the singer’s half-flaccid cock to work it up. Which proves to be hardly an issue. “You really do miss it, and you can’t come to terms to let it go.”
“Look who’s talking,” Dave manages out, gasping at the sudden squeeze and heavy tug at his shaft.
“Says the one I’m giving a handy to while wearing my sweatpants. You’re never not going to wear underwear, huh.”
Dave should reply, but Alan has the - no pun intended - upper hand. All he can do is let his head tilt back, and feel the other’s lips against his neck again, closing his eyes. He moves one of his hands into Alan’s hair, sighing and chewing on his bottom lip, his body wanting to sink to the floor, wanting to do more than what he can allow himself to do, but won’t.
Alan lets his teeth graze the skin and Dave shivers, hissing back and moaning softly as his hand picked up the pace. He kissed the spot better, Dave’s fingers curling and uncurling in his hair. He pinned Dave back a little more, his leg bent slightly on the outer side of his own. Fuck he could just pick him up with his hands under his ass and just grind against him, couldn’t he. He groaned at the thought and bit at Dave’s neck again to elicit another noise. Or he could get him completely naked and kneel in front of him, find the healed piercing on his guiche with his tongue and make him wobble. He bites his neck to that thought too, Dave choking back a sound that want to be louder than the last.
The problem was, Alan wanted that. His thumb works at the slit at the tip of Dave’s cock, making the singer groan and open his eyes. Alan stopped the work on his neck and straightened his back, looking down at Dave and immediately closing the gap with a heated kiss before he has a chance to say anything. There was that sound he wanted, muffled against his lips, arms looping over Alan’s shoulders, trying to take a second to breathe and open his mouth but was taken over with Alan's tongue gliding inside.
Dave’s nearly lost to it now, his hips moving up against the work of Alan’s hand and moaning in their kiss, as Alan takes the hint and lets his hand speed up. He starts to struggle, breaking the kiss. “Wait, wait, Al-wait-” a heavy pat, pat to his back, but Alan isn’t stopping, moving his hand down to palm at his sac that makes Dave yelp and practically smack his back a few more times in hopes he gets it this time.
But he doesn’t, and Dave’s eyelids flutter, forcing himself to focus as much as his body doesn’t want him to. “Alan! Fu- Alan, please, Alan!” His entire body tenses and the back of his head thumps against the wall as he comes, moaning Alan’s name like it’s the last thing he’ll ever sing. Alan buries his face into Dave’s shoulder, reminded of just how nice sex with a baritone was.
Alan stands straight, looking down at Dave, cursing to himself at the little marks he left on the singer’s neck. Maybe it was a little overboard of him. Dave is catching his breath, eventually opening his eyes.
“…well, at least I don’t have to wait for these to be clean,” he chuckled, giving Alan a gentle push that he actually complies to, making it only a few steps before the other man sticks himself to Dave’s back with his arms around him, back to how this even started.
“I’ll let you get dressed,” Alan murmured, adding one more kiss to between his shoulder blades, “And I"ll get started on breakfast. Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Dave nods and smiles, stepping forward again and watching Alan slowly detach himself to leave.
Of course most of that time is going to spent fucking jackin’ yourself, but don’t give me any other surprises this morning.