Reference?

"What're you looking at?"

Simon shut the book abruptly and scowled. "Reference material."

The thin brunette leaned over his shoulder curiously. He hadn't known Simon to be working on anything new, and certainly...nothing that would..."Is he naked?"

"It's reference."

"For what, a porn?" John leaned back, hands on his hips, raising an eyebrow half-bemusedly, half in a rare show of irritation. "You know, if you're just looking at playgirl or something you don't have to lie to me -- "

"It's for a story!"

"Simon -- " He snatched the paperback away, flipping through what was little more than a thick, glorified magazine. "This is erotic photography. It says it right here, erotic photography."

"Maybe," the redhead's face fell into the same tight scowl it'd held for the past week and half, "I'm writing about an erotic model."

"Why would you be writing about that?!"

"Look, you're jealous." He slammed down his pencils. "Why would I let you see it if you're just going to do this."

"Well it would be nice to know that while I'm off busting my ass for a concert you're not even going to -- "

"Fuck, John, I have a meeting!"

"Oh I'm sorry, your magazine, that's right, the one that hasn't put out yet, but -- oh wait!" His acting prowess threw his delicate features into a wide, faux smile. "The men in this magazine put out for you! Look at that!"

"I didn't think men could PMS."

"Fuck you."

"If that happened more often I wouldn't be writing about erotic models." Before he could take it back and try to excuse himself with tales of stress or alcohol -- which he hadn't even touched for three days, probably a decent source of stress in itself -- John was straddling his lap, trying to look furious but frown deepening into an angry pout.

An angry, frustrated pout.

Frustrated, desperate...rocking his hips against -- Simon groaned, trying to cut the thoughts off right there before they both got distracted. He scowled and shut his eyes in an impatient sort of way. "What were we arguing about..."

"...what? Are you kidding me? Dammit, Simon --"

"My mind was somewhere else!"

"Well -- God, what do I have to do, pose?"

"I wasn't thinking of anything that...stationary," he muttered, words slipping out on his breath as if he was trying to expell them without having to admit he had said them.

John stared, dumbfounded, and stared some more, and caught his breath as his face heat up. And then he surged forward and kissed him so fiercely Simon's chair shifted backward across the short rough carpet. When he finally had to stop for air the other man's hands had clamped down on his hips, and their panting was ghosting across each others' lips.

They stared.

And stared.

Simon shifted his hips experimentally, shutting his eyes and furrowing his brows in an attempt at self-control, a groan forming low in the back of his throat.

John was far less subtle. "A-ah..." He rocked his hips forward, slowly and firmly against Simon's, moaning as he felt his hands shift to his waist, then roughly under the back of his shirt, one sliding across the small of his back and the other rubbing down across his ass before squeezing. The brunette buried his head in Simon's neck and bucked his hips against his, keeping himself muffled to an acceptable volume by pressing his open mouth at the junction of the man's tan neck and shoulder.

Someone slammed the door shut as they passed the room, and both of its inhabitants jumped, Simon leaning his head back with a grunt as it put him in a very...precarious position. It wasn't hard to miss.

John did not.

He slid back on Simon's lap, dislodging the other's hands from his back; Simon didn't have the state of mind to argue, torn between feeling guilty and wanting to leap up, knock him onto the floor and take him right there. It was finals week. It'd been a long week. A long week without sex. A long week without seeing John for more than half an hour at a time. And, because that usually entailed a meal and food was apparently necessary for survival, spending that time more productively was out of the question.

The redhead stared at the ceiling dully, mind in a dozen other places, most of them entailing John's places, when he felt said boyfriend's weight leave his legs.

"I'm still mad you know." John sounded anything but mad, his voice hushed and lilting towards the lower ranges of his tone. He leaned over the other man, resting his weight on his palms, which he planted solidly at the beginnings of Simon's thighs, letting short, trimmed nails drag over what happened to be most worn-in pair of jeans the man owned. The graying black denim was hugging his legs, presumably the same pair the writing student had been changing in and out of each morning for all of finals, a thin barrier between John's hands and Simon's skin, which the former took full advantage of, trailing his fingers lightly over his knees.

Simon shuddered, finding himself shifting his legs apart slowly, gripping the sides of his seat. The ceiling was fascinating. There were at least a dozen cracks up there so far. And -- "Oh god."

He hadn't heard John shift to his knees on the carpet or even known he'd moved until he felt him nuzzle the crotch of his jeans, his warm moist breath adding to the burning between Simon's legs before the brunette sucked gently at his straining erection through the jeans.

His hips jerked involuntarily, trying to take the rest of him off the chair with them. He threw his head back, breath rushing into a heavy pant as he tried to restrain himself, reaching forward to grip John's hair and push his face against him again with an open-mouthed groan. "Please. John. Now." It was less a plea than a desperate command.

John unbuttoned Simon's jeans and pulled the front of his briefs down just enough to free his erection, leaning forward and running his tongue along the tip. Before the man could even make a sound, he took him into his mouth, letting him buck his hips, sucking too gently to give him the release he needed. It was the game he played when he was angry -- trying to shock him into submission, drawing out Simon's tension as long as possible before letting him have what he wanted.

But the other man knew that by now, and before he realized it, John felt the carpet under his back and stared up as Simon stood, shedding his clothes, looking down on him hungrily. He wet his lips with a brief swipe of his tongue and dropped to his knees to shed John's clothes as well, who was busy imagining what that toungue would feel like drawn down his stomach, dipping into his belly button, running along the length of him, and he could feel himself growing almost painfully hard. As soon as he'd yanked the sweats down his legs and the air hit his skin Simon's hot mouth engulfed him, growling low in the back of his throat, making his mouth pulse around him.

John threw his head back and screamed, thrown into abandon, back arching at Simon's sudden motions as he drew his head back just as quickly as he had descended, climbing over him on his hands and knees. His hand found the small of John's back and brought his hips up to grind against his, groaning, hunching over him. John whimpered breathlessly, gasping, straining to buck his hips as Simon held them firmly against him, giving little leeway. He could feel the pressure building in his groin as their erections rubbed against one another and grabbed John's hips, pushing him back down to the floor, holding him down with a hand splayed over his hip, fingers just barely brushing John's member.

"Simon God don't do this to me today --" He squirmed, reaching down to grasp at Simon's arm with both hands, trying to sound forceful even though his voice was heavy with need and he had to swallow hard to keep from begging, whimpering, throwing himself at his mercy.

"I'm still mad at you," the redhead murmured mockingly, voice low, rough, husky against John's ear, but contained. He leaned forward to inhale his scent, hovering over him, dragging his hand down John's side firmly with his free hand, letting his nails ghost over his ribs, dipping between his legs to stroke John's thigh. John's legs fell apart before he could think about holding his ground, and he shuddered, arching his back as much as his position would allow, trying to shift to coax Simon's hand to his aching erection. Simon exhaled at his ear, resisting the urge to touch either of them, raking his nails gently higher along the inside of John's thigh instead. The brunette still carried the faint scent of wood-polish and oil from the upkeep of his...

The thought of the word "instrument" prompted a groan, and he let his fingers brush John's member teasingly, elliciting a gasp from the other man, who tried again to buck his hips closer, twitching upward. "Simon..." He panted, tangling his slightly shaking hands in Simon's hair, swallowing again. His voice took on a pleading, lilting tone, the obvious work of an actor, which made it rush even faster to Simon's head, dizzying and intoxicating, and he decided as the other man started to run his ankle up Simon's leg that he wanted to watch him, his mind already running with the image of John tending to another instrument entirely. He gave John's hips a jerk and rolled onto his back with him; John spread his legs to straddle his waist, planting his hands on either side of Simon's head, revelling in the new physical freedom and brushing back against Simon's erection, arching his back, raising his hips and tilting his head back.

Simon would have restrained him again, just to see him squirm, but the sight of John's wantonness was too much not to rock his hips up against him, mind racing with the anticipation of being inside him. He grabbed John's ass and pressed against his entrance, intent on torturing him a little more, driving him to the edge, but throwing his head back with a groan instead, hips jerking. The other man yelped, but pressed back against him anyway, reaching behind them to spread himself enough to feel him against his entrance. "Now. Please. Please, I'm begging --"

It took all his willpower not to thrust into him right then and there, setting his teeth and gripping John's waist with one hand, the other groping blindly under the bed. He wasn't that angry. When he didn't immediately find what he was looking for, he swore, jerking his hips up impatiently, releasing his waist to wrap his hand around John's neglected member. John gave a whimpering cry and fell forward, trying to thrust into Simon's hand; Simon ran his thumb over the head to spread the moisture collecting at the tip and made it a little easier to push his grip down John's length again.

His other hand landed on a bottle of hand lotion, and he batted it towards them, eyes on John's face as it shifted between desperation and pleasure, mouth open, panting and moaning above him. John caught him staring and flushed even more than he already was, moaning and burying his face in Simon's neck. He murmered against his skin, pleading, sucking at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Simon fumbled with the top of the container, squeezing it quickly onto his hand (and the carpet) as soon as it opened, coating his fingers and reaching up to circle John's entrance only briefly before swiftly burying a finger. John sucked in a sharp gasp and jerked back against him, tensing around him but the discomfort barely registering as he whimpered and rocked backwards. Simon didn't wait for a cue to pull back and press another one forward.

John paused, panting, wanting to thrust back against him until he went crazy, knowing he could work past the pain easily if he just kept going but knowing he would regret it later. Simon released him to fumble for more lotion, slicking it along his own erection, resisting the urge to pump himself. He started to move his fingers inside of him again, stretching him; John groaned, whimpered, shifted back against him hesitantly at first, but quickly returning to his more desperate rocking as Simon crooked his fingers and started stroking, pulling his fingers out and pressing them in again, pushing another one forward as he sped up the pace. John cried out and arched his back, shifting his weight to his elbows framing Simon's face, murmering breathlessly, coaxingly in his ear. As Simon pulled his fingers out and pressed his erection against his entrance, John tugged at his earlobe with his teeth, pulling it into his mouth with his tongue and sucking on it fervently.

He grabbed John's hips and thrust his entire length into him, crying out, tugging John's waist to force the man to sit up so that he could see his face as intense pleasure flooded his body and made him tighten. John writhed on top of him, mouth open, but instead of a cry came a loud, broken moan as he panted, meeting Simon's eyes, ducking his head and moaning lower, louder. He rocked his hips, body swaying on top of him, and tried to hunch over him again to bury his face in his neck, but Simon splayed a hand on his chest and kept him from hiding. He pulled out slowly, John raising his hips in turn, his eyes shut, head ducked, whimpering, but his eyes shot open again with a small desperate cry as Simon brushed a thumb against John's nipple. He tightened again, and Simon drove back into him, lifting his head just enough to catch John's nipple in his teeth, sucking. John was writhing above him, thrusting back against him harder, unsure of which way to move, pleasure coming from too many places at once, and he threw his head back and cried out, tightening around him again, wanting to feel him climax, the best part of the act aside from reaching it himself. He planted his hands on Simon's chest, moist with sweat, running them up along his shoulders, gripping his arms, as Simon's grip on his hips tightened and he pulled John down against him as hard as he could, arching his back and forcing his hips against him almost hard enough to bruise. He looked up, expecting John's head to be thrown back wildly, but instead found him staring right back at him, eyes half-lidded and glazed over, face flushed, tendrils of hair caught in the sweat beading at his brow. The ball of tension at the pit of his stomach exploded and he bucked against him with a hoarse cry, crushing his lips against his, groaning against his mouth and dragging him with him as he fell back against the floor. When he could once again think clearly, John was panting, writhing in both satisfaction and need; he leaned forward, stretching against him in a cat-like manner, whimpering as his erection pressed against Simon's stomach.

Simon reached up behind him to catch John's wrists in one hand and reached between them with the other. He ran his palm roughly over the head of John's erection, then down its length, glancing up to meet John's eyes; the brunette's face was slack with pleasure, lips parted, breathy moans escaping with every move Simon made. He wrapped his hand around him with a groan and pulled at his arms to tug him forward, John gasping at the sudden motion and shifting to his knees to give the other man more space, pressing into his hand, murmuring pleadingly into his ear, "Please Simon, I want to come, please, so bad..." He felt himself stiffening again, tightened his grip and pumped him slowly, wanting to hear his name again, more begging, more loving declarations, until it broke down to incoherent mewling and John's thrusting into Simon's fingers.

Simon wasn't sure when he'd quickened his pace or when he'd wrapped his other hand around his own throbbing erection, just that John came hard, body tensing and trembling, crying his name. He collapsed on top of him, pressing his face against Simon's neck, and gave a quiet, breathy chuckle as he felt Simon's arm still moving; he wrapped a shaking hand around Simon's, the one he was using to touch himself, kissed along the edge of his ear and sucked gently at his earlobe. As his grip grew tighter and his thrusts grew faster Simon pulled his hand away, bearing a few seconds of agony to press John's hand against him instead, throwing his head back as John resumed with soft hands and calloused fingertips. When the redhead moaned and leaned his head back, clawing at the carpet, John shifted backward and leaned over him; Simon grew harder in his hand as his hot breath caressed his erection, and John only had to take the tip into his mouth, dipping his tongue into the slit, before Simon gave a low groan and climaxed again. John sucked gently and swallowed, wiping his mouth with the heel of his palm as Simon found his hair and tried to coax him up without pulling.

He wrapped his arms around John's waist and let him settle on top of him, catching his breath, running his fingers clumsily through his sweat-dampened hair so that he could see the brunette smiling amusedly back at him.

"...what?"

"Pfft..Reference."

Simon tried to thump him on the head but could barely move, settling for a sour look instead, which only made the other man laugh.

"Did you really think I'd fall for that?"

"Shut up."

John nuzzled his cheek and pretended to look innocent. "Are we still fighting?"

He grunted, trying to sit up. "Only if we have the time to make up again."

"I think I have a few hours."

"Then I'm still mad at you."