Damned

Chapter Two

There had to be approximately 137 miles of hallways between David's and Jon's suites, Richie was sure of it. He and Jon managed to walk like normal everyday adults (though maybe just slightly faster than your average person) for about ten seconds before they both broke into a run. Panting as they finally reached the right door, Richie devoured Jon's neck while Jon tore through his pockets in search of the room key.

"Stop it, someone's gonna see us!" Jon whispered, but he was also laughing, so negating the seriousness of the concern.

"Who cares? Maybe we can get a maid or two to join us."

Jon giggled even harder, poking at the doorknob with his key, but dropped it when Richie pulled his face up for a savage kiss on the mouth. Standing on his toes to equalize their heights, Jon wrapped his arms around Richie's neck and jammed him against the wall with his pelvis. Richie moaned into the kiss right before Jon broke away and sank to his knees, burying his face between Richie's legs. Richie's knees buckled at the feel of Jon's lips moving against him, like he was trying to eat him through his clothing.

Just when he thought his legs were going to give out, Jon abandoned the task and found his key on the floor. This time, he actually got it into the lock and he and Richie wrestled their way into the room, ravaging each other's mouths before they had even gotten the door shut. Richie managed to give the door a kick and it slammed into place as Jon dragged him toward the bed, already working at the fastenings of his pants.

"Oh god, hurry up," Richie said, and then cried out as Jon's hand found its way to bare skin and fondled it. Then Jon yanked the pants down to his knees and pushed him down on the bed. Richie tried to be calm, but he found himself wriggling with impatience as Jon rummaged through his suitcase.

"Come on, come on--"

"I'm hurrying," Jon said, returning to the bed with a box of condoms and a tube of lubricant. Richie thought he might die of the suspense in the few seconds it took Jon to coat his fingers with the slippery liquid.

Without warning, Jon shoved Richie's knees up and wedged his upper body between the other man's lower legs, his chest pressing against the trammel of bundled-up pants. Richie was effectively trapped, and Jon pressed himself deeper against the binding fabric of the jeans, forcing Richie's knees up almost to his chest. Richie jumped when he felt Jon's fingers searching him where he'd never let anyone touch him before. From where he dangled against Richie's pants, Jon's face was inches away from Richie's, and he stared at him, half-smiling, like he could hardly believe what was happening.

Richie writhed with the unprecedented pleasure, and he grasped the edges of the pillow under his head, squeezing to give his hands something to feel before they went crazy with the need to touch. Jon rubbed him harder, his lubricated fingers sliding over him, but not into him yet, and Richie pushed against the teasing touch.

"You want it now?" Jon asked, and Richie nodded frantically, then gasped when he felt Jon's finger push into him. The sensation was magnified beyond comprehension by the fact that Richie couldn't see what was happening, and it threatened to drive him crazy. The sensory overload made his upper half ache with abandonment, and he pushed his shirt up, sliding his hands over his own stomach and chest, his skin singing with joy everywhere he made contact. Jon's eyes widened.

"Holy shit..." he murmured, his awestruck gaze following Richie's hands.

A spike of lechery pierced Richie at the sound of Jon's hormone-soaked voice and he had to hear it again or he was sure he would die, so he upped the ante.

He drew his fingertips lightly over his nipples, making them pucker and harden even more, and watched Jon's expression grow dark with lust. A sudden fleeting pain told him Jon had forced another finger into him, twisting and scissoring his fingers, stretching him.