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They don't talk about it, ever. To talk about it would be to make it real, to crystallise what they both know will happen into an actual event, into a need; neither of them can deal with that. Instead Richard and Jeremy communicate in code, in lies and self-deceit and in a wanton rage they both understand, that both crave more than nicotine.
Richard starts becoming twitchy, tight and hard and jittery in a way that makes Jeremy's cock take notice in the safe confines of his not-quite-as-tight-as-they-used-to-be jeans. This is how it starts, Jeremy watching carefully, watching the flicker of Richard's eye and the curling and uncurling of his fist, watching for the sign that Richard needs to be alive, needs to feel like every ragged and rushed breath might be his last. Even alone they don't mention it, don't plan any of the details, don't quite make eye contact in the same way they will later, snarling and intimate.
Jeremy doesn't consider it cheating; it's seedy and dirty and completely morally reprehensible and yet Jeremy doesn't feel ashamed, doesn't hate himself, the guilt not eating away at him. He wants to feel like he's about to be hurled off the edge of a cliff, he needs to feel Richard's tight, hungry body assaulting his senses. He suspects that the faith Francie shows in him when he leaves in a hurry in the middle of the night is not trust at all but merely a disinterest in his life that makes him feel as desolate as the road to wherever he and Richard will end up.
"Fucking geriatric," Richard snarls at him as he walks past on the way to the coffee machine, and this is the start of it too: the insults and the disdain letting Jeremy know that Richard is ready to blow at any moment, giving him fair warning.
"Inexperienced runt," Jeremy hurls back with a smile, not really feeling the aggression that Richard seems to be practically thrumming with, not feeling it yet anyway.
Richard stops and turns around, bouncing on his toes like a boxer as he stalks Jeremy, every step making Jeremy's blood fizz that little bit more.
"Watch who you're talking to," Richard sneers, looking Jeremy up and down and trying to radiate displeasure but letting the lust seep out, letting him see just a fraction of what's to come.
Jeremy fights the urge to slap him, to feel the sting of flesh against his palm, but knows that to do so would be to break the rules they have never discussed. He settles for a face of neutral passivity that Jeremy knows will drive Richard even further along the path they're heading and resists the urge to smirk.
"Save it."
Richard seems pleased that Jeremy is playing along and smiles warmly at him for a moment before turning on his poncy cowboy-boot heels and walking quickly away.
~~~
Jeremy is dreaming, strange images floating unbidden around his brain: the curve of Richard's bicep, the slate of the roof crashing to earth and the bitter taste of semen flooding across his tongue. The noise drags him awake with no warning and he struggles in the limbo between worlds, floating untethered until the cloud disperses and he hears clearly the beep of his phone.
Reaching to pick it up causes Francie to stir and so Jeremy gets up, quietly closing the door behind himself and going to sit in the bathroom, perched on the edge of the tub, the cold seeping into his bones.
Meet me at the last place and get here fast. I want you now xxx
Swallowing the sudden tightness from his throat, Jeremy closes his eyes briefly, an image of Richard aroused and needy coming to his mind, an image of Richard giving him nothing without a fight, an image that makes him hard and reckless. There is no question that he's going to go, he knows himself too well - the heat of the first fizzling arousal already worming its way lazily through his veins as he creeps back into the bedroom and picks up his clothes from the chair. Francie has never mentioned the fact that he keeps a spare set of clothes to hand and he has never had to offer an explanation. Jeremy thinks that had the situation been reversed, he would have been suspicious but there's no time to regret the closeness lost with his wife as he stalks out of the bedroom.
Picking up the keys to his DB9 Jeremy practically runs out of the dark house, feet crunching the gravel as he makes his way over to the car. He's left it out of the garage, a part of him wondering whether tonight would be the night when he drove up the driveway hours before. Jeremy can feel his heart rate accelerate partly from the miniscule amount of exercise running to his car has provided but mostly from the anticipation of Richard's touch, the fire creeping over his skin as he thinks of Richard naked, hard, waiting for him.
Jeremy drives sensibly until he is out of sight of his house, a clap of thunder seemingly punctuating the change as fat raindrops plop onto the windscreen, exploding on contact. The weather seems to be echoing his mood; dangerous and wild, his breath comes in short bursts as he plants his foot firmly to the floor and feels the power of the engine propel him faster towards his destination, towards Richard.
The rain starts to hammer down, the swish of the windscreen wipers almost hypnotic as he stares out to the road ahead, the car otherwise silent because to play music would be to lessen the impact of Richard's voice, of Richard's harsh breaths and the slap of skin on skin. Slithering over wet tarmac, Jeremy feels the back end let go momentarily, looking down at his speedo - when he recovers - to find that he's doing almost eighty miles an hour on a country road in the dark. He could quite literally be dying to get to Richard.
The next bend comes up sharp and fast and Jeremy has to use the other side of the road like the whole world is a track for his enjoyment, a rally circuit, he feels as though he's playing a game, one that he can't lose.
Opening the window with a satisfyingly electrical hum, Jeremy feels a spatter of rain hit him in the face and blinks hard, the warmth of the car threatening to deaden his senses; the cold is a welcome distraction from the thoughts swirling through his head, from the sheer need to come.
Jeremy imagines what Richard must be doing right now, imagines him looking at the clock impatiently, stroking a hand over hard flesh as he wills Jeremy to hurry up. Imagines Richard thinking of him, waiting for him, and can't actually stop a gasp from escaping his lips and echoing in the car.
Pulling up outside the dark cottage, Jeremy kills the engine and registers the stillness, the lack of engine noise making his ears buzz insistently.
~~~
They'd been here before a couple of months ago in very different circumstances, cold and wet and thoroughly miserable from a disappointing day of filming, James storming off to calm down after a row with Jeremy had escalated to an almost-fight that Richard, of all people, had stepped in to break up. Richard and Jeremy had fucked hard and fast and contained, their shouts held in, Jeremy's hand over Richard's mouth as he thrust into him, the cries muffled but still audible. Sated, they'd slept only to be awoken the next morning by James wondering where Richard was through Jeremy's door, the nearness of their discovery leading Richard to swear hollowly that they wouldn't do it again.
~~~
Walking up the driveway unable to see even a few feet in front of his face, Jeremy is confused by the lack of light, worried that he may have misunderstood Richard's whispered half-instructions and insinuations. Trying the front door he finds it open, pushing it back to reveal a darkened hallway and nothing else. Suddenly Jeremy is propelled backwards, his head connecting with the olde-worlde beam that comes from nowhere, all the breath knocked out of him with a whoosh. Before he has time to shout or fight back or, really, to do anything other than hope he isn't about to be horribly murdered, he's being forcefully kissed, hands twisting painfully in his hair.
"Took your fucking time," Richard growls into his mouth, hands sliding down from Jeremy's hair to rest, lightly for the moment, on his throat, fingers squeezing experimentally.
"Have you seen what it's like out there? The bloody apocalypse has come early. I nearly wrapped the car round a fucking tree - ungrateful fucker," Jeremy says a little breathlessly, the frequency of his use of obscenity rising along with his blood pressure.
"Glad you didn't," Richard concedes gracelessly, sounding like he's not so certain.
Jeremy knows that it's all part of the game for Richard, part of the foreplay. They would never ever admit how much this means to both of them, how much they mean to each other.
"Too fucking tall," Richard pants harshly against Jeremy's throat, dragging him down to his knees.
Jeremy knows that Richard, for all his protests, gets off on the fact that Jeremy is bigger than him, taller, more imposing; that he likes to be pinned down and taken roughly just as much as he likes to try and dominate, using his wicked tongue and occasionally his fists to get Jeremy to submit.
Richard snakes a hand down to his fly, posture cocky and sure, but is stopped in his tracks when Jeremy puts a hand out and grabs him, stilling his motion and smiling up from his position on the floor.
"Oh no, you don't get it that easily," Jeremy says with a laugh, pushing up Richard's t-shirt and swiping a rough tongue across the hair below his belly-button, smirking when Richard moans and pushes his hard, denim-covered cock against Jeremy's chin.
Grabbing Richard round the waist, Jeremy slides his hands down to the firm arse just waiting for him and squeezes hard, as Richard tries to push himself into Jeremy's hands and push his cock against Jeremy's face all at once. Richard moans with the frustration as Jeremy covers his crotch and blows hot air through the stiff material, leaving a wet patch that looks obscene.
Jeremy's knees start to ache but he doesn't move, just shuffles a bit and bites gently at the bulge in front of his face. The fact that he has to lean down slightly to even be on crotch level makes Jeremy smirk, feeling superior even on his knees.
Richard is getting impatient and twitchy, his muscles jumping under Jeremy's fingers as he smoothes and caresses, pinching occasionally to make Richard yelp.
"Suck me off Jez," Richard says, the pleading edge not lost on Jeremy.
When that doesn't work and when Jeremy just looks up impassively, knowing that Richard is getting closer and closer to the edge and wanting to push him there ever faster, Richard grabs a handful of Jeremy's hair. The roots burn as his fingers tighten, pulling Jeremy's head back at a sharp angle, his neck protesting mightily. The slap seems to shock both of them, Richard's palm stinging just as much as Jeremy's face - which is starting to redden, an imprint of Richard's hand readily visible - brown eyes lock on to grey as both silently gauge the other’s reaction. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Jeremy's knees and face throbbing in unison, Jeremy reaches out and undoes Richard's fly, the buttons popping out of their fastenings as if they've been waiting for Jeremy's fingers.
"Oh yeah," Richard sighs as Jeremy's face nuzzles his crotch, fingers loosening in Jeremy's hair.
Pulling Richard's poncy designer underwear down, Jeremy murmurs, "Fucking tart," against Richard's hipbone, smiling as Richard takes his own cock in hand and pushes it at Jeremy's lips, rubbing it against the lower one when Jeremy refuses to open his mouth.
"I know you want it. I can tell when you're watching me in the hangar; you're thinking about my cock and my arse and exactly what I'm going to do to you the next time I get fucking desperate and horny."
Richard squeezes Jeremy's cheeks, making him look like a guppy, frustration making him aggressive and agitated as he rubs pre-come over Jeremy's lips. Finally relenting - or rather, knowing that he's pushed enough to make Richard fuck his face as hard as Jeremy wants - he opens his mouth, Richard sliding his cock all the way on the first stroke, Jeremy's head banging against the wall.
Shuffling forward so that Jeremy's back is against the wall, Richard thrusts deep and hard, panting and murmuring almost to himself as he drives his cock home again and again, Jeremy's throat protesting the rough treatment but the man himself definitely not as he closes his eyes and lets himself be used.
"Your mouth... oh God, is this how you got the job? Sucking Andy off on the casting couch like a proper whore?" Richard babbles, not looking at Jeremy.
In retaliation for the slander - and Jeremy will only let Richard get away with it for so long - Jeremy digs his nails into Richard's backside, feeling the hard muscle under soft flesh and his fingertips brushing the crease of Richard's buttocks.
"Don't even fucking think about it," Richard warns as Jeremy slides a finger dangerously close to Richard's hole.
Not stopping the movement of his hips and in fact becoming even rougher than he was only a moment ago, Jeremy struggles to breathe as Richard's cock is shoved unceremoniously down his throat again and again. Jeremy rakes his fingers up Richard's chest pushing up the material of his shirt and rubbing his thumb over Richard's bottom lip. Biting briefly at Jeremy's fingertips, Richard - completely in contradiction to his earlier warning - sucks on two of Jeremy's fingers, the saliva dripping down Jeremy's wrist.
Bringing his hand back down, Jeremy briefly circles Richard's arsehole before shoving the first finger in up to the knuckle. Richard's hand tightens again in Jeremy's hair and he pushes further forward staying there for a few seconds, knowing Jeremy can't breathe but also knowing that they have a signal for this sort of thing. After an impressively long time Jeremy taps Richard on the hip with his free hand, Richard immediately pulling back, impaling himself further on Jeremy's finger in the process.
Pulling ragged bursts of air into his abused lungs, Jeremy looks up at Richard, his cock harder than it's been for a very long time; throbbing and trapped within the confines of his jeans.
"You look good on your knees," Richard croons as though he owns him, bringing his cock back against Jeremy's lips and smiling as Jeremy accepts without a fight this time.
They build up a rhythm, Jeremy now using two fingers to fuck Richard's arse, twisting and turning and rubbing as Richard fucks Jeremy's mouth as roughly as before.
With a low grunt, Richard comes down Jeremy's throat, pressed so far down that Jeremy doesn't even taste him as he swallows, the pain in his knees immediately screaming at him to do something other than kneel on the hard floor.
"My turn," Jeremy rasps, his voice hoarse and raw.
Richard turns away and walks off leaving Jeremy to stagger to his feet with some semblance of dignity, his joints protesting loudly.
Jeremy follows Richard to the stairs, catching him just as he starts to climb them.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Jeremy demands, although this is part of the game also.
Richard scoffs, turning to face Jeremy and looking down on him from a few steps up, the orgasm having taken the edge off but not satisfied the need. "I've got what I wanted so I'm going to bed, alone. I don't care what the fuck you do, jerk off or something." Richard takes one more step.
Hard and desperate and now really fired up, Jeremy tackles Richard bringing him down on to the stairs with a crash. They scuffle for a few moments, Richard letting Jeremy know that he isn't going to make it easy, his harsh breaths wafting across Jeremy's face as Richard bites down on his lip, the taste of metal on both their tongues.
Eventually managing to pin Richard beneath him on the stairs, Jeremy leans down and they kiss for a few minutes, sloppy and wet and with so much tongue that breathing starts to become an issue again. Pulling back just enough to let him speak, Jeremy whispers, "I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll remember this for weeks."
They are close enough - and Jeremy's eyes have adjusted to the dark enough - to see that Richard's pupils are massive which could be down to the low light but Jeremy knows is down to him, to them, to this.
"You can try old man," Richard sneers but Jeremy can practically smell his arousal and can definitely feel the beginnings of another erection digging into his hip.
Trying to wrestle Richard on to his front is hard, Richard manages to elbow him in the stomach, stopping to let Jeremy catch his breath and then fighting on when he recovers.
Eventually though Jeremy manages it, knowing he'll have a few bruises to show for it later. Dragging Richard's unbuttoned jeans down to his ankles with one hand - Richard not having even bothered to fasten them again - the other at the scruff of Richard's neck, pinning him to the step, face in the carpet. Jeremy wraps his fingers around Richard's cock; he's half hard already and it's only been a few minutes. Jeremy's own cock is like steel and is physically aching, needing to come and soon.
Jeremy lets go to undo his own jeans, dragging them down to his knees, as Richard stays where he is, not struggling until Jeremy has a firm grip on him again.
They've never used lube because that would make it too real, they'd need to actually buy it, so Jeremy offers his fingers to Richard remembering too late exactly where they've been; Richard doesn't notice or doesn't care as he wets them liberally. Bringing them back to Richard's arse, Jeremy finds that he's still quite open and can put two fingers inside easily, kissing and nipping at the back of Richard's neck and whispering, "My little whore," against his skin.
Richard stiffens at the words and tries to escape, hissing, "I'm not your whore," from between gritted teeth as Jeremy starts to fuck him in earnest, now with three fingers inside him.
When Richard starts to push his cock against the step Jeremy removes his fingers and spits into his hand, coating his own cock and pushing the head against Richard's loosened hole. It isn't easy but with a hard push the ring of muscle gives way and Jeremy finds himself balls deep in immense heat, Richard grunting underneath him.
Richard has both his hands cushioning himself on the step, pushing back against Jeremy with every thrust while at the same time protesting his unwillingness to be in this situation. Jeremy has heard it before.
Jeremy manages to get both their shirts off and gasps at the skin to skin contact.
"You know you love it," Jeremy hisses into his ear, grabbing one of his hands and bending it behind his back, the edge of the stair now digging into his ribs with every thrust.
Richard moans loudly and swears profusely.
Thrusting into Richard hard, Jeremy hears the stairs creak with each movement of his hips, the panting gasps from both of them adding to the cacophony of noise as they fuck.
Letting go of Richard's hand, Jeremy leans forward, trapping it between their bodies and covering Richard totally, never stopping sliding his cock harder and harder into Richard's body, the moans and obscenities pouring from Richard's lips spurring him on.
"Your fucking whore Jez, God fuck me just like that." Richard's words are muffled as his face is pressed against the carpet, his arse being used.
Struggling again as Jeremy's orgasm gets close, Richard manages to get his hands free, stretching them above his head and encouraging Jeremy to hold him down again, body covering Richard's as he writhes against Jeremy's cock, pushing back against Jeremy's solid frame.
Jeremy fucks Richard like his life depends on it, slamming himself into that tight heat like it's where he belongs, the bones of Richard's wrists feeling delicate under his hands.
Biting at Richard's neck possessively, nipping at the lobe of his ear and growling low down in his throat, Jeremy comes in hot spurts inside Richard, the clenching of his arse milking Jeremy's cock until there isn't a drop left.
Dragging themselves to bed, they both collapse in a heap, too tired and sore to even cover themselves over as they start to drift into sleep. Jeremy remembering somewhere into unconsciousness that he doesn't know whether Richard has come.
~~~
Dawn breaks as Jeremy cracks an eye open, the watery light appearing at the edge of the drawn curtains; he's alone but for a piece of paper. Richard's handwriting is scrawled over it, he can just make out the words.
Had to go, important stuff to do...
I'm going to feel you for weeks!
R xxx
Jeremy smiles at the note, flops back on to the pillow and inhales Richard’s scent.
Next time might just kill him.