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"And then he trips over the jack and falls flat on his face!"
It's a sunny, warm Saturday afternoon, and Jeremy is enjoying himself immensely. He's stretched out on a towel in his garden, beer in hand, telling ridiculous anecdotes to James, who's similarly ensconced just a foot away. James is a surprisingly good audience, propped up on one elbow to take in the full range of Jeremy's expressive gestures.
As Jeremy delivers the punchline, James throws back his head and laughs, that stupid braying noise that's half like he's a seal and half like he's choking on something. When he tilts back down, the corners of his eyes are crinkled up, and he's smiling with frank amusement. A lock of hair blows into his face, and James starts to set the beer bottle down so he can brush it away. Instead he fumbles it, sloshing beer into the grass between them.
"Cock!" he says, laughing, and rights the bottle. "I'm so stupid."
Jeremy has a revelation: James May is the most gorgeously stupid thing he's ever seen in his life. The dappled sunlight plays across James' face, highlighting the blue of his eyes. The thin, gray fabric of his shirt clings to his chest in the heat, outlining the faint curve of his belly. James' long fingers come up to the loose bit of hair and tuck it behind his ear, and Jeremy's eyes follow the movement helplessly.
Before he even realizes he's doing it Jeremy is sitting up and scooting closer, ignoring the dampness of the beer-splattered grass against his arm. He lifts both bottles out of the way with one hand and pushes James gently backward with the other.
"Jez, what are you—" says James, still smiling, and then Jeremy slings his leg over, hitching himself up to rest on James' hips, and leans down to press their mouths together.
James' mouth is soft, his lips unexpectedly cool. Jeremy can feel the tiny beads of sweat just above James' upper lip, can smell the beer, tangy on his breath. James' lips part in surprise, and Jeremy takes the opportunity to press his case, rasping his tongue across the ripe curve of James' bottom lip. He keeps his eyes open, locked on James' shocked, blue gaze, trying to persuade and plead all at once – Yes? C'mon, this is gonna be brilliant. C'mon.
Then James sighs, the breath from his nostrils skittering across Jeremy's face, and he melts back against the towel and the grass and the somewhat lumpy ground. There's another faint shift of air as his eyes flutter shut, the sweep of lashes against his cheek making Jeremy's chest ache with unexpectedly strong emotion.
Oh, god, he thinks. I have to have this.
Jeremy kisses him harder, and now James kisses back, tongue teasing along the line of Jeremy's teeth, lips pressing softly at the corner of Jeremy's mouth. His hands come up around Jeremy's waist, pulling him closer, moving restlessly until they find the skin underneath Jeremy's own sweat-soaked shirt. Jeremy plants his elbows on either side of James' head and curls one hand into his hair, feeling the strands catch at the calluses on his fingertips. He's never really thought about what this might feel like, but somehow it's still a surprise to find that James' hair is soft, that it smells of shampoo and something like tea. Sweat prickles across Jeremy's back as he trails open-mouthed kisses across James' cheek and down the line of his jaw. James turns his head, exposing his neck to Jeremy's caress, and Jeremy nuzzles at it, reveling in the hint of stubble just beginning to form there.
He bites, gently, tenderly, and James gives a surprised, breathless moan, his eyes flying open.
"J-Jez," he stutters, and Jeremy's cock jumps to attention.
"Mm?" Jeremy murmurs, kissing the skin he's just bitten, but James doesn't seem to be able to reply.
"Oh," he says, and then, "I, oh, mmm!" and Jeremy smirks a little, where his face is buried in James' hair.
Then James is shoving him backwards, and Jeremy just has time to think, Wait, what? before he's on his back, with James straddling his thighs.
"You're so insufferably smug," James informs him. Jeremy opens his mouth to respond, but then James is kissing him, hot and hard and messy. Jeremy groans and puts his hands on James' arse, squeezing him through the fabric of his shorts. The movement presses their cocks together, and Jeremy shudders at the sensation even through multiple layers of fabric. Suddenly he's desperate for skin, desperate to be touching James instead of his clothes.
"I want," he starts to say, but since James is still kissing him it comes out as more of a moan. "I want," he tries again, but this time it's just a very pushy-sounding moan, so instead of following up with the sentence Jeremy just lets himself be kissed and concentrates on working his hands inside the waistband of James' shorts.
Then James pulls back and says, "Let me, okay, Christ, Jeremy, just let me," and then he shifts up onto his knees and starts unfastening himself. Jeremy stares at him stupidly for a moment, caught up in the way James' hands are shaking as he unbuckles his belt, the way a faint flush has spread across his cheekbones. James pauses, zip half undone, and says, "That is, I, do you..." and Jeremy suddenly realizes that he's laying there like a donkey that's just been hit between the eyes.
"Yes!" he says. "Yes, I, god, James," and starts fumbling with his own belt. James flushes even harder but shoves his shorts and underwear down, exposing the firm length of his cock. Jeremy forgets all about what he's doing and reaches for him, curling his fingers around it and stroking, slowly, tightening his fingers until James gasps and tips his head back in pleasure. James' fingers flex against his thighs, and Jeremy reaches up with his free hand, spreads his palm across the damp fabric covering James' chest, finds a nipple with his thumb and rubs it. He tries to coordinate the movements of his two hands, stroking and teasing, and even if it's not perfect it must be close enough because James is gasping, head back against the sky, thrusting his hips forward rhythmically to press into Jeremy's fingers.
They move together like this for long moments, Jeremy's gaze avidly taking in every detail, knowing that he'll want to be able to play back every sight and sound and smell of this moment.
"I can't--" says James, and then he's batting Jeremy's hands away and reaching for Jeremy's belt. Jeremy's cock is hard and aching now, and it springs free from the confines of his shorts with a sensation so pleasurable it's close to pain.
"Touch me," he says, and James licks across the palm of his hand before reaching down to stroke him, slick and sweet and perfect. Jeremy grunts with each long stroke, with each sweep of James' thumb across the head, too trapped by James' spread legs and the cloth of his shorts to do much more than squeeze his hips upwards in a jagged not-quite rhythm. "Fuck," he says, and then, "fuck, oh, fuck," and if he doesn't do something soon he's going to come, so he says, "Come down here."
James gets his meaning immediately, pulls his hand away and shifts position so that he can lie fully on top of Jeremy, their cocks moving against each other, slicked with sweat and precome and saliva. Jeremy kisses him again, fucks James' mouth with his tongue. He's got one hand in James' hair now, and the other on the bare skin of his arse, and it's fucking glorious, so much touch, and he's hot, sun-bright with pleasure.
They rut against each other, desperate, filthy, wild; Jeremy's feet scratch in the dirt as he tries to press himself upwards and closer, and James' hair falls down into his face. James is whimpering now, and he bites down on Jeremy's lip. Jeremy can feel the muscles in James' legs flexing, and he uses the hand on James' bottom to urge him closer, rougher.
I want to fuck him. I want to do this naked, Jeremy realizes, but it'll have to be next time, because he can feel orgasm curling up from somewhere deep inside him like the faint beginnings of a mighty wave, and then James' hips shift and he grinds down just so, and Jeremy throws his head back into the grass and comes and comes and comes.
When the lights stop sparking across his vision, he realizes that James' face is pressed against his chest, and that James is breathing heavily. Very carefully, Jeremy begins to card his fingers through James' hair. James starts a little, then lets out another breath and deliberately settles again. A slow smile spreads across Jeremy's face. James says something he can't quite make out.
"What?"
James lifts his head. "I said, 'This is a very entertaining way to spend the afternoon.' And if I'd known it was what you had in mind, I wouldn't have bothered digging out those old videos I brought."
Jeremy snorts. "I didn't exactly have that as a listed activity in my schedule, you know. Three to half past three – shag James. Half past three to four – tea."
"Oh, well, I wouldn't want to keep you if you've got other plans," James says, teasingly. Jeremy growls and rolls them over so that he's on top again; it's a bit trickier now that they've both got their legs tangled up in their shorts, but he manages it eventually.
"I've decided to clear my calendar," he says, pressing a kiss to the tip of James' nose. "Half past three to four – shag James. Four to five o'clock – shag James. In fact," he says, kissing James' smiling mouth, "I think I can pretty much just write in 'shagging' for the whole rest of the day. With a break for ordering take out if necessary."
James laughs, but then gives Jeremy a serious look, which is only a bit spoiled by the fact that there's dirt in his hair. "And that's not... I'm not... getting in the way of anything else, erm, on your schedule? I just don't want to do anything stupid."
"You're not," Jeremy says simply, and after a moment James nods in acceptance, the smile coming back onto his face. Then Jeremy grins, and leans down to bite at James' earlobe. "And seriously, if I didn't make room for you on the schedule, then I'd be the stupid one."