Jack Vincent (
rockabillyboy) wrote2018-04-03 06:01 pm
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Post Founder's Day
For a while now they've been laboring under the weight of their losses, and, as a result, they've been kind of careful with each other. In the cab on the way home, Jack realises that he doesn't necessarily want to be careful anymore. He leans in, pressing a sloppy kiss against the side of Poison's neck, right against his pulse. His hand slides dangerously high up his husband's thigh.
"What've you got on under these?"
"What've you got on under these?"
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"We share a bathroom," points out Jack, squeezing Poison in against his side. "You see me all wet and soapy most mornings."
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"Oh, I see. So we're just objectifying me," he says, kissing Poison and then leaning in to turn on the shower. "You should just film it next time."
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"I can't believe we've never done that before," says Jack, tugging Poison under the shower with him. "We've done photos, but..."
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Poison breathes a happy sigh when the water hits him. "Fuck, I live here now. Have my mail forwarded to the shower." He does his best to sound dramatic as he leans into Jack.
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"You want to go public?" teases Jack, knowing how wide both of their exhibitionist streaks run. He grins, nudging Poison against the tiles, bending his head to kiss his neck. "You'll go all pruney."
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"You're already famous. Darrow famous, anyway," points out Jack, sliding his hips lazily against Poison's. "And I don't need to be famous, thank you-very-much."
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"People know who you are in context. They spot you at shows and stuff. I sing at you."
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"Yeah, but in context is different from, like, noticing me on the street," says Jack, idly squirming against Poison. "I'm more noticable when I'm wearing gold eyeliner."
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"Yeah, maybe a little," says Jack, pushing his fingers into Poison's wet hair to cradle the back of his head. "I just don't look as good in stockings as you do."
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He likes when Jack dresses up his own way. Things that Jack thinks up to wear for himself, not just because he thinks Poison might like it. Poison's gotten flustered by his husband in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt more times than he cares to admit.
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"Well, it's like I don't just want to fuck you in stockings," he says, leaning in for kiss. "I want to fuck you every time I see you."
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"The stockings, the panties, the flippy little skirts," says Jack, very aware that he's starting to get hard again, pressed against Poison. "hat can I say? This is the effect you have on me, baby."
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He loves it when Poison blushes - mostly because he's so shameless, and it's so out of character.
"This is what you get for marrying someone five years younger than you."
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Right now, though, he supposes there is quite a difference between nineteen and twenty four. He grins and kisses Jack again.
"Think it just makes you incorrigible," he teases.
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"Just 'cause you've got a longer refractory period than me, man," says Jack, grinning, rocking his hips to slide his dick against Poison's wet skin. "No need to be bitter."
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"Maybe you're just insatiable," he quips, voice a little lower, a little more breathy.
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"Maybe I am, where you're concerned," says Jack, grinning, staying pressed against Poison, bending his head to take a kiss.
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His hands slide down over Jack's sides to pull him closer, until he can feel his cock against him.
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"Don't need to be inside you," murmurs Jack, squirming a little against the grip of Poison's hands. "I could come like this."
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