Work Text:
Gale dreams of a fire that licks gently at his body. Flames tickle at his back, down the arch of it to the dimples by his spine, and across his neck where billowing smoke fans shivers over his skin. Heat knots a belt around his waist and presses desire into his stomach, and it moves with him as he shifts away from its maddening hold.
In his sleep, he pushes at his burning trap, but it curls around him again, and his feet hiss steam as they connect with a solid wall of fire behind him. His body pulses under a shudder as sweat evaporates from the warmth of his chest. He tries to protest but finds his mouth and eyes melted shut, and all that comes out is reduced to small, struggling whimpers. He squirms, and as suddenly as a summer storm drenches the earth, he wakes up.
“Ah.” He gasps. The fog recedes from his mind.
It's the middle of a sweltering summer night, and John is plastered to his back as usual. Sweat beads in a fine sheen on Gale’s body and rolls down the line of his throat and the small of his back in lazy rivulets. John's palm found its way under his shirt to spread its claim over his stomach, and John's soft exhales are the breeze brushing Gale's flushed neck until he shudders and his nipples pebble. Despite the darkness, he can tell that both of them are on his side of the bed. Again.
Letting his eyes slip closed, he groans and pushes John away. “Off.”
“Hmpf.” John makes an unintelligible sound.
He’s naked, as usual when the summer days get scorching and dry. Sometimes, he ribs Gale for the way he always needs pajamas and a blanket to fall asleep, but on bad nights, he rubs Gale's arms and tells him that it's okay to need that physical comfort. Gale likes to be held on those nights. But when it’s so stifling-hot that his clothes are soaked and sweat drenches his hairline, he wants John's furnace of a body on the opposite side of the mattress with as much breathing space between them as possible.
John has other ideas though.
When his palm slides over Gale's waist again and smears sticky perspiration into the hair on Gale’s stomach, Gale growls and swats at him. He kicks the thin blanket to the foot of their bed. Through the open window, heady, sweet summer air drifts lazily inside, but it does little to cool the room. His overheated body irritates him. Blood pools low in his groin, where his cock pushes against his cotton pants, thick and heavy with its throbbing ache. He draws his right knee up on the mattress and tilts his hips down to ease some of that need. Sleep beckons him still, and his eyelids are heavy enough that he forgets his arousal. The crickets chirping in the grass around their house lull him back to his dreams.
But his peace doesn’t last long. John grunts as if to tell him that he disagrees with this sleeping arrangement, and his large hand comes back to Gale's waist. This time, it doesn't stop there. It squeezes and pushes at Gale until Gale’s body shifts fully onto his stomach in one pliant roll, and John's follows. A blanket of heavy muscle drapes over Gale’s back and presses him into their soft bed.
The fight drains out of Gale in a long exhale.
Wrestling John off would be more effort than just lying here and going back to sleep, heat be damned. Besides, he likes the weight. There’s something so grounding in being held like this. Pressed so tight together that he feels John's chest expand with every breath, his heart beating calmly against Gale's back. John's body shields him from the world. Is it strange to enjoy being held down? It depends, Gale figures. Tonight, he allows himself this weakness. He lets himself bask in the closeness and tries to fall back asleep. This wouldn’t be the first time. After five years living together, he knows how this goes - John is going to get tired of the position after a while and he'll roll away by himself.
Not yet though.
For now, John is looking for a more comfortable way to lie on Gale, and for some reason, he ends up tucking a hand under Gale's chest. His head rests on the back of Gale's shoulder. The bones of his fingers are an uncomfortable pressure against Gale's ribs. Drowsy, Gale squirms, mindlessly trying to alleviate it, until he manages to slot his pec in John's palm. There. That’s better, he thinks, smiling with his eyes closed, but before he could settle down again, a new sensation registers in his brain.
As he shifted around, he moved his legs too, and now his ass is aligned with John's hips in a way he can’t ignore. He can feel John's cock through the thin barrier of his pants. He isn’t hard, but the weight of him is still there, thick and warm where Gale rubs back against him. It wouldn’t take long to work him up like this, would it? To feel him grow and harden until he can’t help but grind down against Gale. Until he pulls Gale's clothes off to get at his bare body with his hands and mouth and tongue. Gale's erection twitches, trapped against the mattress.
He nuzzles his pillow, arching his back. Without really thinking about it, he rocks up into John, just because it feels good. Between John and the mattress, he finds a low thrum of pleasure he barely has to work for. His hips continue moving on their own accord. Back and forth, back and forth. God, it feels good. His pants stick to his skin, damp with sweat and arousal. Gale doesn’t care that he’s making a wet spot, he doesn’t care that the rhythmic rustle of fabric gives away his need. In the dark, heady summer night, he has no sense of time, place or shame. He can do anything. Free in his desire.
When John's hips meet his push back with a thrust down, Gale makes a small noise of appreciation.
John chuckles in his ear. “Thought you wanted to sleep.”
Gale's voice is raspy when he speaks, and he promptly decides that he doesn’t want to say anything else for the rest of the night if he can help it. “I'm gonna smack you.”
The sound John makes in return is like a purr. It rumbles through Gale's back and makes the heat pulse in his belly. John's cock is getting hard against him now, always ready to go at a moment's notice if Gale needs it. John rubs it against Gale's ass lazily. His hand shifts to thumb at Gale’s nipple, while the other one rucks Gale's shirt up and strokes a wide path up the valley of his spine. He kisses Gale's neck. A warm breeze caresses the tingling spot his lips leave behind.
“Another round?”
They’d already had sex tonight before they went to sleep. There’s no reason for Gale to want it like this again, but he does want it. He's burning up with it. Usually, he'd spare a thought for the practicalities - send John for a towel to cover the sheets or think about the fact that he’ll have to take a third shower after this. But he couldn’t care less tonight. All he knows is need.
He hums in agreement, and he feels John's excited exhale against his ear. Warm hands move up his sides, rolling his shirt towards his shoulders. He reaches under himself to undo the first few buttons, then grabs the back of the garment and pulls it off over his head. The movement must have ruffled his hair in a pleasing way, because John's fingers tug at his locks playfully before John's lips press to the knob of his spine.
Gale shudders. John's mouth is warm and his mustache tickles as he teases soft, damp kisses down the steps of Gale's spine. In the indolent night, Gale hears every quiet, sticky sound when John drags his lips over Gale's skin. Halfway down, John lingers for a moment, trailing to the right, just below the hinge of Gale's shoulder blade. His touch is featherlight. It barely brushes his body but Gale’s squirming already, rolling his shoulder as shivers race through his back and jump under his skin. He can feel the puff of John's chuckle, then the scrape of teeth, and he’s bitten at the one spot where it tickles him to his bones. He laughs into his folded arms.
“No, no, stop.” He snickers his token protest quietly, feeling equal parts tormented and delighted by the sensation.
John laughs and stops tickling him, but he doesn’t have much time to catch his breath. More kisses adorn the arch of his back, and one of John's hands slips under the waistband of his pants. It smooths over the curve of his ass, cupping his cheek where it's the roundest and squeezing. John's fingers dig in just hard enough that warmth pools in Gale's stomach, and he rocks helplessly against the mattress, then into John's grip.
The sound John makes in response vibrates against the base of Gale's spine. John makes him raise his hips for a second and pulls the pajamas the rest of the way off. The moment the fabric slips off Gale's legs, it's replaced by John's broad palms. John's thumbs dig into the soles of his feet, then round his heels. They trace the tendons of his ankles, then John's hands slide up his calves, cupping them warmly, brushing over the hair there. The perspiration gathered in the bend of Gale's knees is wiped away by the touch. John massages the back of Gale's thighs, possessively, pushing them further apart, inching upward until he reaches the crease where they meet his ass. He grips Gale's cheeks then and spreads them, running a thumb down the valley between them to where Gale still feels soft and tender from the sex they had a few hours ago. John keeps his finger there as he leans down and kisses the curve of Gale's right buttock.
“Can I?” He asks.
Gale buries his face in his pillow, seeking a split second of respite from the flames in the cooler parts of the fabric. He usually doesn’t let John use his mouth there but he had two showers already, and he feels like he’s going to die from the desire ravaging his mind if he doesn’t let John take him apart. Hungry fantasies battle the remnants of his self-control. He wants to be adored the way only John can adore him, with shameless love. He wants it.
When John presses the tip of his thumb harder down, Gale gives in with a muffled whimper. “Yes.”
He feels the heat of John's exhale, trapped between his skin and John's lips, then John's thumb moves back to spread him with intent now. Strong fingers grip Gale on either side, and he feels the brush of air against his hole, then a warm breath followed by the slick press of a tongue, a stubbled chin when John moves his mouth.
A noise tears out of Gale with the suddenness of a sob. His hips twitch away but John doesn’t let him escape the sensation. Never parting from Gale, he follows him, then traps him against the mattress with his elbows. He keeps him held down and spread wide as he moves his tongue over him, up and down, then in a slow circle across his hole. When Gale relaxes into the inescapable pleasure, he moans where he's lapping at the skin and redoubles his efforts. He sucks and licks at Gale, then presses the tip of his tongue inside. The sounds of his mouth moving against Gale send trembles through Gale's body. It feels like his legs are melting, losing all muscle strength from the thrum of his desire.
More, more, more, his mind chants as he pants through it, and he starts to rock back against John's face. He’s acutely aware of the open window. Their neighbours live too far to be able to hear anything, so he feels safe to enjoy the thrill of freedom and privacy. After all those years sneaking around between missions and then being stuck in the stalag, he can never tire of this joy. With his eyes still closed, he turns his face towards the window and lets every sound of enjoyment drop from his mouth without restraint.
“Yeah.” John groans in appreciation.
A spit-slick finger pushes at Gale’s hole next to John's tongue, slipping inside. An easy slide, with Gale being so sleepy and relaxed and still loose from the sex they had earlier. Soon enough, another finger joins the first. Gale's about to say it's too dry like that, but John's tongue is back between his cheeks, flicking wet and warm in the stretch of his knuckles, and Gale gasps for it. He bends his knees fully and raises his hips to have more leverage, then rocks into it in a rhythm that John matches without pause.
When he pulls his mouth and fingers away after one last kiss, Gale whines. “Not yet, John -”
John shushes him and opens the drawer of the bedside table. He thumbs at Gale’s hole as he pats around for the lube in the dark. “Do you wanna get off like this or do you want my cock?”
Deep breath in and out. Gale turns his face into the pillow again. It muffles his voice. “I want you.”
He hears John's steadying inhale, how shaky it is, and a sense of fondness manages to seep through the haze of his lust. They’ve done this so many times before that he can’t even count it, and yet, John still wants him just as much as he used to before the war. Maybe even more.
Gale can still remember how scary it was to be this vulnerable in front of him. How he trembled when John touched him inside for the first time, pumping his fingers in and out of Gale just like he does now. Pushing lube into him and stretching him wide. John was never clumsy with him, but he used to talk all the time, about how good he was going to make Gale feel and how he couldn’t believe that Gale was his. Only after the war did he become quieter. It worried Gale at first, and made something self-conscious in his chest constrict, but over time, he learned that it didn’t mean that John loved him any less or that his scars and the lingering damage of malnutrition made him undesirable. He realized that John's silences shared more of the vulnerable parts of him than the moments when his words covered them up. He’s grateful that John trusts him and knows him deep enough not to need those words anymore.
When John's thick fingers slip out of him and the mattress dips under John's weight, Gale sucks his lip between his teeth in anticipation. A firm grip seizes his hips and guides them further up. Knees bump the insides of his legs, and John's cock comes to rest in the slick valley between his cheeks, moving as John sways forward and back. Gale reaches back with a hand and finds John's sticky fingers at the top of his thigh, and they hold onto each other.
“Can I put it in?” John asks in a strained voice.
“Yeah.” Gale replies, but half of the word is lost in a gasp as the wide, blunt head rubs against his relaxed hole, then spreads him wide as John's cock sinks in, an unrelenting ache.
John sighs when he bottoms out. He lays his free hand on the small of Gale's back and pulls back just an inch only to rock inside again, so deep that Gale feels the soft brush of hair against his ass, John's balls against his own. He’s so full he can feel the satisfaction of it in his stomach, how it fills his hunger. He loves how big John is, always has, he loves that it's impossible to think of anything else but the deep, heavy stretch when John is inside.
Gale takes his hand back and hangs his head between his propped up elbows, then shifts his hips towards John.
John makes a noise and starts moving. He pushes into Gale gently at first but picks up his intensity quickly, encouraged by the quiet sounds his thrusts punch out of Gale. In the stifling heat, more sweat beads on Gale’s neck and the creases of his limbs, and he feels drops of it fall from John's body too. The squelch of the lube mixes with the sounds of their damp skin slapping together. Everything is wet and messy, and Gale can hardly recognize himself in the primal bliss making love like this gives him. He’s dripping with it, mouthing at his own hand in desperation and leaking on the sheets under him as he’s fucked to the brink of incoherence.
“God, you take it like no one else.” John groans above him.
He leans forward to flatten himself against Gale and push them both down on the mattress. The hair on his chest and stomach spreads sweat over Gale’s back. There’s something delightful in losing all reservations and just going at it. Gale's hips ache from the strain, but John's legs keep his thighs spread, and John's thrusts continue hitting the spot inside him that makes Gale's cock drool untouched under him. The illusion of a sweet taste blooms in his mouth, and he swallows against it, smiling through his panting exhales.
When they're not holding John up, John's hands roam over Gale’s sweaty body mindlessly, with no clear goal beyond the need to grope and feel. They wedge between Gale and the mattress to pinch his nipples and stroke down his abs, raking blunt nails over the muscles there until Gale shudders. Then one of them returns to the space beside Gale's head to prop John up while the other fondles Gale's cock.
“John.” Gale mumbles and fits his own hand around the one John rests on his pillow. He pulls it to his lips, kisses and nips at it mindlessly as he's fucked until John drops his forehead to Gale's neck and snaps his hips so hard that the headboard bangs against the wall.
“Wanna knock you up.” He grunts like he’s losing it. “I want it so much.”
It’s insane. Gale knows some of John's impossible fantasies but this is a new one, and it makes no sense at all. He can tell that it comes from deep though, from the way John's hips jerked when he said it and from the want in his voice. It’s not like the easy sexy talk John used to lay on him before the war. This is something John wants to imagine so much that his whole body trembles for it, and nothing makes Gale feel hotter than making John happy.
He nuzzles John's palm and rocks back into him. “Do it. Come inside me.”
John shudders and moans. He sucks at Gale’s sweat-salty neck where Gale bares it for him, and keeps talking feverishly against the skin.
“Gonna put a baby in you.” He pants. The headboard knocks softly on the wall, faster and faster, the heat in Gale's belly flares, and John's thrusts start losing their rhythm as his choked-off moans mix with the words he mouths into Gale's neck. “My baby. Oh fuck. Fuck, Gale, I’m gonna come -”
His hips jerk forward once more, so hard that Gale’s cock twitches in John's loose grip, then more warmth spills into Gale, filling him up as John gasps and shakes through it. He keeps grinding against Gale's ass until the last of the waves pass, then sinks down with his full weight on Gale again. His breathing sweeps fast and erratically over the back of Gale's neck, breeze on his dripping sweat.
Shameless in his need, Gale licks and sucks at John's fingers and reaches under himself to make John's hand on his cock move even though he’s squished too much, there's no space. Instead of obliging, John takes his fist away.
“Wait.” He says breathlessly and pulls out.
The wet sound of it makes Gale's ears burn, but the darkness hides it anyway, as well as the sex-drunk haze in his eyes. He’s grateful for it, because the next thing John does is turning him around and seeking out his lips.
They share quick, messy kisses, all spit and the taste of sweat and sex on their lips. Gale holds John's softening, wet cock against his and pulls them off together. It makes John whine and make quick little grunts of pain, but he doesn’t make any move to stop Gale from overstimulating him. He enjoys it.
“I love you.” He says and sucks on Gale’s tongue. “I love you.”
Gale lets his cock go in favour of wrapping his arms around his waist. When John presses their foreheads together, he kisses him again. “I love you too.”
John kisses the flush on his cheeks and forehead. “What do you need?”
“I want -” Gale wants to fuck him. He wants to thrust into his tight, warm body and mark him like he marked Gale. He knows John would do it, he would love it, but the prep would take too much time, and Gale’s on the edge already. He needs to tip over it before he loses his mind.
“- your thighs.” He says. “Can I?”
“Yes.” John smashes their lips together again, still so eager even though his body is spent and completely done. “That’s so hot, Gale, wish we'd started with that.”
Despite his all-consuming lust, Gale huffs a laugh. Every time Gale names something he wants, John thinks it's the hottest thing ever. Fond, Gale pushes at John's shoulders, and John moves obediently to lie next to him on his side. He grabs the lube he discarded on the bed and rubs some between his thighs. A thought crosses Gale's mind. He flushes hot, sweating rivulets again, but he’s too far gone to care about what's too much - he reaches behind himself and touches his puffy, tender hole, then dips his fingers inside. He shudders, feeling filthy-hot and mad with want as he pulls his hand back and uses John's spend to slick his cock from root to tip. It feels as though he has already come and is about to do it again. The sensation makes him twitch and dribble over his own knuckles as he strokes himself, then spoons behind John to guide his erection between John's thighs.
John flexes his muscles around him. “Good?”
“Hm-m.” Gale hums, wraps an arm around John's waist, then starts fucking John's thighs.
Before John showed him how to do this, he hadn't even known that the option existed, let alone that it's this amazing. Thrusting into the tight, warm grip of John's thick thighs, through the path they slicked up for him over soft skin and coarse hair, only the head of his cock poking through the other side where John places his warm palm to let Gale bump into it. It's almost as good as being inside him. Gale presses his forehead to John's shoulder and his hand to John's stomach, where John grips it despite the mess on it, and he chases his rapture single-mindedly. There’s nothing else that matters now, but the way John's muscles ripple around him as if trying to milk him dry and the way Gale’s cock tingles with the friction.
“There you go. That's it, doll.” John murmurs warmly a second before the pleasure tips over. Something in Gale tugs loose at the thought that John could tell, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut as wave upon wave of bliss washes over him and he spills wetly between John's thighs. His hand grips John's hand tight, clinging to that anchor of sanity as his mind blanks out in the bright pain-release.
Gale pants and rolls to his back as the rush subsides. Wetness trickles sluggishly down from the corners of his eyes, and he realizes that they're two lone teardrops, drawn out of him by the intensity of his delight. He wipes them away and smiles when John turns to face him. When he raises his arm, John takes the space offered and scoots close, pulling Gale into a kiss by a hand on the back of his head. After a moment, Gale drops his head back, exhausted.
John chuckles into the dip between Gale’s clavicles. “Go take a shower, I'll clean up here.”
“Careful, John, I might mistake you for a gentleman.”
“I am a gentleman.”
“Uh-huh, knocking me up before marriage?”
“Didn't take you for the conservative type.”
Gale laughs and pulls himself up. Now that his head is cooling down - if nothing else in this goddamn heat - he can feel his embarrassment creep back into his thoughts as he thinks about the things he has just done. Maybe he shouldn't let John handle the sheets. He hesitates, but ends up shaking his head at his own awkwardness about it. He grabs a new set of pajamas, ignores John's snort at it and disappears in the bathroom.
The shower soothes him. It’s cold, no warm water left at this ungodly hour, but Gale got used to cold in the Air Force. In this heatwave, he even welcomes it. He washes away the sweat and the mess they made, catalogues the small bruises and bitemarks on his body, then combs his hair in the mirror. It makes no sense since he’s just going to go back to sleep, but he likes it neat. It makes him feel good.
When he walks back in the bedroom, snug in his clean clothes, he finds John by the open window. He’s leaning against the window frame in the darkness, an ashtray on the windowsill by his hand that Gale can only see from the orange glow of the cigarette John snuffs out in it. Outside, it's pouring rain.
“I summoned you a storm.” John jokes. He’s still naked, but wiped clean and dry. Flashes of lightning draw the contours of his body, from his nose and chin, over his broad chest to his waist. The line of his mouth curves into a smile but sadness lingers in its corners.
Gale pads over to him. Fresh air blows the scent of rain on warm soil through the window and water pours in steady drops over the land. He reaches out and runs his palm up from John's belly to his chest, and John catches his wrist to pull him closer until they're hugging and Gale's head rests on his chest.
“I'd marry you, you know.” John murmurs.
Gale hums. He listens to the rain and the calm beat of John's heart. They can always fantasize.