Log: Jarrod & Jonathan Who: Jarrod Krippler and Jonathan McLeod. When: March 31st. Morning. Where: Stargate, their room. What: Snuggles and reconnecting.
Snuggling down into the covers, Jarrod yawned a little bit and felt his eyes flutter open, even though he tried to fight it. He glanced at the clock and sighed, trying to worm his way closer to Jon. It was too early, and Jarrod was too sleepy to get sexual, but he knew in two minutes the television would turn on. He didn't know what episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation would be playing, but he'd checked his local listings and knew it came on at seven on some channel he'd never watched before. A hand slid upward, adjusting the arm around his middle, pulling Jon's fingers gently toward his chest.
The volume was low when the set came on, but he figured such a die-hard fan would know the opening theme music by heart. Of course, if Jon didn't wake up, that wasn't a big deal either. After everything he'd gone through the last couple of weeks - had it been that long? - Jon deserved a reward for putting up with him. Jarrod had gone through all the stages of grief, he was smart enough to recognize that at least. And Jon had been there, holding him while Jarrod sobbed, restrained him when denial set in. Jon's words were steady during the time Jarrod tried to bargain, saying Mags was probably just hiding out somewhere because she could heal herself. Yep, Jarrod had gone through all that and more, and Jon had never shown contempt or told him to just get over it.
Jon was a good boyfriend.
Jon was also a dead-to-the-world boyfriend! Although somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of the fact that the television had turned on, and recognized the familiar strains of the opening theme of The Next Generation (which he did indeed know by heart!). It stirred something inside of him, but not enough that he woke up straight away. Jon wasn't one of those wake-with-a-start types. Unless a fire alarm was blaring or someone hit a gong near his head or something equally disruptive.
And Jarrod and the bed were warm. Jon made a mumbled noise and shifted closer as the world of sleep started to drift away, fragmenting as wakefulness came upon him. Jon stirred again and his lashes fluttered and he yawned a little bit as the opening credits came to an end and commercials came on. Nothing very exciting, being they were morning commercials!
"Shoulda turned Tivo on," he muttered when he finally came awake enough to be vaguely coherent. Of course he could have downloaded the entire series of The Next Generation as well. But there was just something about watching it on tv!
"Mmm, morning," Jarrod said softly, still not looking over his shoulder to keep Jon's eyes. Jarrod always hated how he looked in the mornings - hair all over the place, crusties in his eyes. Morning sex didn't seem to be deterred by that, ever, but it wasn't a pounce-on this time. The arm that had been caught under his pillow came out of hiding, wiping at his eyes, the other gently stroking the back of Jon's hand. Jarrod knew well enough that if Jon didn't get to wake up on his own, he had more of a tendency to be cranky. Jarrod didn't want a cranky Jon. Sometimes the blond may provoke a little bit, but that was all in fun and sexin'.
"F'got about the Tivo," Jarrod murmured, keeping his movements to a minimum. It would have been easier to do that, but the remote had so many buttons! He'd tried to use it once to get a marathon of America's Next Top Model and had ended up with six hours of the surgery channel. Interesting in its own right, but definitely not Fatima being an elusive bitch like he'd hoped.
Jon yawned in response and rolled on to his back, eyes opening to peer up at the ceiling as he took a moment to come to terms with the fact that he just wasn't asleep anymore. Which was a shame in one way, because sleep was awfully nice, but a good thing in another way. There was plenty to do while awake too.
He rubbed his palms into his eyes as if to kick-start some energy, yawned again, and then propped himself up on his elbows to peer at the television. Commercials were just ending, and the show started. He eyed the screen, listened to the words, and within a minute or two, knew which episode it was. "Oh, this is a good one." Which was often the case, although some episodes were better than others. He flopped back down to the pillow and linked his arms behind his head.
Once all the sleep had been pulled from the corners of Jarrod's eyes, he adjusted his position when Jon flopped back. His toes pointed out and flexed, arms moving toward the side edge of the bed. A few turns at his wrists and the boned popped pleasantly. Just as quick, Jarrod was back under the covers, scooting down to lay his head on Jon's bicep once the other seemed comfortable. Jarrod looked at the screen with absolutely no idea what was going on. But, Jon liked it, and Jarrod knew better than to hammer his boyfriend with questions about shows, especially early in the morning.
Tilting his head slightly upward, Jarrod pecked Jon's forearm right above his head, scooting a little closer so their hips were side by side. Again, he grew quiet, half-watching the screen. He wondered if there would be aliens, wasn't The Borg part of this franchise? Again, he knew better than to ask Jon, or else the blond would be getting an hour-long, good-natured lecture. "Thanks," he finally settled on, eyes closing for a moment as he tried to fight off a wave of sleep that had been laying in wait.
Jon's arm shifted then, so it was around Jarrod, or as much as was possible while lying down in such a position. His eyes on the screen, he followed familiar dialogue and movements. It didn't matter that he knew how the episode would turn out. It was still as entertaining as the first time he had watched it. And The Next Generation really did age a lot better than the Original Series had. No styrofoam rocks!
His eyes dropped when Jarrod spoke, although he could only see the top of his blonde head from his vantage point, hair ruffled from sleep. He could have moved, but that would require dislodging Jarrod, and he wasn't in any rush to do that. "I'd say 'you're welcome', except I'm not sure what I'm being thanked for," he said.
Jon smelled good in the mornings. Not like body odor and cigarettes. Not like puppy breath and pit stains. He smelled musky, and warm. Jarrod smiled at the idea of making a nest in the bed and just letting Jon smell like that all the time. Then, they'd never get out of bed. Not a very productive existence, but Jarrod wouldn't complain until he started getting bedsores.
"For being there - here - when I needed you," Jarrod clarified, or tried to. He sighed and lifted his head, placing a kiss on Jon's wrist, right above his pulse. He promptly sunk down into the warmth of the bed again, though his body was waking up and the couples' movements had let a little cool air under the sheets. "And you should always say that when I thank you, because obviously you did something good. Sometimes, without even realizing it." Another peck, this one on Jon's bicep, before Jarrod turned his face to finally see his boyfriend for the first time that morning.
"Oh," Jon said when he realized what Jarrod was thanking him for. "Well of course I'd be here." He knew it had been difficult for Jarrod, the fact that Magdalene had died, and so suddenly, unexpectedly. "I can't think of anywhere else I'd have wanted to be." He hated to see Jarrod upset, hurting, but he had wanted to be there, to do what he could for him. Even if there really was nothing to be done but be a shoulder to cry on.
Jarrod's lips were warm against his skin, soft, and he smiled in a small, still-slightly-sleepy way. "Yeah. I should just always accept the fact that I'm awesome," he said, lazily joking. His head turning again so he could see Jarrod. He smiled.
"Morning."
Nothing could really match Jon's morning smile. It was subdued, gentle. The smile was returned and Jarrod, still smirking, turned his head to the side a bit and kissed Jon's arm again, closer to the shoulder this time. "Hey you," he said, enjoying the quiet tones they both used so early, as if anything louder than their quiet pillow talk would alert the whole world that they were awake, and then life would come crashing down.
"I just wanted you to know I appreciate you. Every day." He felt his eyes pinch at the corners but he closed them, eyes just glassy but still with a hint of a smirk on his lips. Good tears that refused to fall. "And you keep adding brownie points to your roster, which never hurts, huh?" His hand came up and rested gently between Jon's pecs, the smoothness of his nails brushing against the skin.
Jon touched a fingertip to Jarrod's lower lip, pressing lightly before his hand drifted away. "Yeah. Likewise. You know." He wasn't always the best at emotional stuff! His life hadn't prepared him for that. But he appreciated Jarrod, having him in his life. In all moods. They were all Jarrod.
"Do these brownie points ever manifest into actual brownies?" he asked then, teasingly, a hand sliding down Jarrod's side. A soft brush, a light caress, tucking up under his shirt... and then he started to tickle.
"I know," Jarrod said once the finger was removed, managing just barely to give the tip a little nip. It wasn't typical that the two got after-school special on one another very often, which was one part of the relationship that Jarrod liked. Things like that simply didn't need to be said. Every once in a while, though? It was nice to hear, no matter that they didn't need to validate anything between them.
"Hmmm," Jarrod pondered, his mouth curling up to one side as he thought about actually making Jon brownies. He was about to respond, but all that came out was a strangled, quiet shriek as cool, strong fingers began to press into his side. His blue eyes got wide and his mouth clamped chut. His head buried into the side of Jon's neck to muffle his squeals, body rising off the mattress to try and escape the playful touch. The hand on Jon's chest balled into a first, the white tee bunching up in his grasp.
Jon laughed at the noise that Jarrod made as his fingers teased over his skin. "Oh now that's an interesting noise," he said with a chuckle as Jarrod grabbed at his shirt front. "I'm not sure I've ever heard quite that noise before. Let's see if we can get it again, shall we?"
His fingers were rather merciless. It didn't matter how Jarrod twisted or squirmed or tried to wriggle away. There was no use for it! Jon let his fingers wiggled and slide over Jarrod's skin. Up along his sides and then down again, and behind, to tease over the sensitive small of his back, and then returned to his sides again, never quite letting up.
"Ohmagawd!" Jarrod gasped, his face moving only inches away from Jon's neck so he could hear what fell out of his mouth. His voice was hitching with each fresh assault. Wiggling wasn't doing any good, Jarrod knew that much on his own. Another strangled groan, similar, but a bit deeper than the first slipped from his lips. The hand holding the shirt wasn't doing much good, his mind fired off the obvious logic and the rumbled cotton material was dropped. Hauling his body over, a mess of blankets and legs fell on top of Jon's waist.
Still trying to lean his body to the opposite side of the tickle, Jarrod's hand tried to find Jon's wrist, the other moving into Jon's armpit. Crap, why wasn't his boyfriend ticklish in all the obvious places?! Jarrod dug his fingers into the pit, trying to find the one ticklish area that had to be there. His body was hunched, compact, trying to give Jon as little area to work with as he could. A light laugh, despite himself, escaped, Jarrod leaning forward to the pillow Jon had, trying to muffle his anguished cries. Apparently they were both more awake than they had been several moments ago!
Jon laughed as Jarrod's fingers found his armpit, but it was only half from being ticklish. The other half was from amusement. He dropped his arm at the elbow and brought it to his side, mostly trapping Jarrod's hand there. And then he lifted his eyebrows and grinned at him.
"So what are you going to do now?" he asked and he continued his assult on his sides. And then his hands stilled, as if he was planning to relent. But of course he wasn't! He grinned up at Jarrod, a quick flash that echoed in his vibrant blue eyes. The grin quickly turned wicked, and his fingers curved around Jarrod's sides, and in a quick motion, he flipped Jarrod over onto his back and crawled over his legs. "Aha. Now you are at my mercy." He pushed his shirt up and tickled his stomach.
There had to be a ticklish spot somewhere within his reach! An amused grunt left his mouth as Jon gripped his hand against his body. Fingers attempted, lamely to tickle at Jon's side. They simply couldn't catch traction, his fingertips wrapped around to Jon's back.
"I'm go-gonna," Jarrod managed between halted breath. He looked at Jon, into those blue eyes, a plan of attack not worked out in any way in his mind. Before he could continue Jon was between his legs, Jarrod's back against the mattress and his head only half on the bottom of his pillow. "You...you wouldn't!" Jarrod half squealed, swallowing a breath quickly before the assault continued, doubled, if such a thing was possible. Instinctively, Jarrod kicked the blankets off his legs as best he could, one trapped under jon's knee. Legs wrapped around his boyfriend's waist. The one hand he had free wasn't doing much good, darting in to different parts of Jon's torso, testing the waters for a hint of a ticklish area. Hips thrust upward on their own, only causing his shirt to rise higher, exposing more of his skin. "You're evil!" Jarrod surmised with a quelled cackle.
"You're gonna, you're gonna?" Jon teased wickledy as Jarrod gasped for breath. He rather had the upper hand at the moment, because he had the upper position! And he knew it was awfully hard to get the upper hand back once you were in a mass of tickled laughter! But that definitely worked in his favour, and he'd take it!
"You're not going to pee, are you?" he asked with a smirk. His fingers didn't still yet, although he'd probably have to clear the area if that became an issue. And then change the sheets! He made a bit of a grunting noise as Jarrod got a leg lock on him, but did that stop his wandering hands? No! His fingers were quite intent on their task of tickling Jarrod until he was a helpless little ball of laughter. Except when his boyfriend suddenly jerked his hips up, Jon was thrown off balance. And being near the edge of the bed as he was, he took a tumble over the side. But he grabbed onto Jarrod to drag him down too!
"Oof," he grunted as he hit the floor and the air wooshed out of him for a moment. Then he grinned, because it didn't really hurt. "Had enough?"
"Noo! Not gonna pee!" Jarrod said, a look of disgust on his face only tempered by his facial muscles contorting from all the laughter. Jon was a played dirty, obviously! "Ja-Jooooonn!" Jarrod's voice carried a swooning sort of characteristic to it - the only full breath he'd gotten in several seconds escaping. Jarrod's body was covulsing in fits of laughter, and there was nothing he could really do to save himself. "Unka, unka!" Jarrod belted out like spit balls from the end of a straw.
Before he could do anything, Jarrod felt themselves sliding, hands forgetting all about Jon and scraping at the sheets on the bed for any kind of leverage. What he ended up with was the sheet billowing over them once they were on the floor. The blond huffed a good breath, making sure Jon wasn't actually hurt before moving. With his legs still trapped under Jon, Jarrod leaned down and kissed him on the lips. Hot puffs of air passed between them, Jarrod's stomach and sides still twitching from the assault.
"Sub..." he started, taking another breath and letting the side of his face rest against Jon's as they both breathed. His heart was hammering in his chest and sleep was no more an option now than moving the world on its axis. "I submit," Jarrod said softly, once his breathing was under control. Lips found the side of Jon's neck, tender and still smiling. He could feel their bare stomachs against one another's.
Jon let his head clunk back against the floor lightly. He had one of those slightly breathless grins on his face, that went along well with rolling off the bed and falling to the floor. Even if he hadn't been the one under tickle assult, he still felt exerted. Tickling was strenuous work!
"You submit? Good. Why do people say uncle anyway?" He had always wondered that. It seemed a random thing to say when submitting. "Why not aunt? Or grandfather?" One of those things to think about. Or... forget about. Jon leaned up and kissed Jarrod again. "Okay, toothbrush time, I think." Not that morning breath was always a deterent, but since they were out of bed and all! He sat up, bringing Jarrod with him, the sheet fluttering around them and pooling around them.
"I...don't know," Jarrod admitted, his chest heaves becoming less and less obvious. "I'll wiki it later, let you know." Jarrod kissed Jon back, managed a little pout when his boyfriend mentioned actual real world things. They always managed to sneak up on him. "You think?" Jarrod's mouth quirked into a small, mischievous grin. "I think you don't get a say in the matter. Since I'm on top and all."
Once they were off the floor, Jarrod pushed Jon's hard hair out of his eyes, fingers slipping behind his ears, over his neck, massaging his shoulders. "Y'know, there isn't really a cataloug for brownie points..." he let the sentence trail off as his hands worked over Jon's chest, fingers moving in little circles and slow, deliberate lines. Given the circumstances, Jarrod hadn't been in the mood for anything for a while, and he knew it was probably a little difficult for Jon. And not just the friction, but the closeness. Jarrod had missed that, but it would have sounded too selfish to ask for it after weeping on his boyfriend's shoulder for twenty or so minutes. Jarrod knew they were mightily beyond simple friction. Sex had morphed into making love, and having Jon's hands all over his body and switching positions had kindled something that had been smoldering for days.
Jonathan grinned as he got to his feet, and he rolled his shoulders back a little bit before Jarrod's hands slid to them. He was clad in a t-shirt and black boxers, bionic leg quite obvious, feet bare. In other words, typical sleep mode. Or just got out of bed mode.
He rolled his head at the neck as Jarrod's fingers kneaded skin and muscle, loosening up knots that had formed during sleep. "Mmm," he mumbled, because it felt nice in a languid sort of way, in a warm sort of way that had nothing to do with blankets and what not. He turned then, and slid his hands along Jarrod's arms, to return his hands to his shoulders. "Shower time?" Something in his eyes said that shower time might not just be soap and water time! But sometimes that was the best kind of shower time. Killing two birds with one stone. Hurrah for multitasking!
Maybe there was a little bit of a pout on Jarrod's mouth when Jon stood, Jarrod rising as well. It didn't last, because it would be a completely silly thing to pout over. He could hear it now 'I have a man who loves me and tickles me and holds me but when I mention sexy time he wants to brush his teeth'. Pathetic! Jarrod liked hygiene as much as the next person, but rarely could it be sexy.
Until Jon's words took on that familiar glint. Jarrod's eyes lit up, a little blush coming to his cheeks at the mere thought of it. Playfully, he glanced at the clock, then turned his head slowly back to face his boyfriend. "It looks like Shower O'Clock to me, but since the time change...we may be a little early for it." Stepping closer, Jarrod wrapped his arms around Jon and held him tight around the middle. "You could get my back, if you wanted to." It was said a little huskily, but it was a real question. Jarrod didn't want it to be one sided. He always liked it best when they were both in the mood - a duality that seemed to happen rather consistantly.
"Oh I think we can do shower time early. We're wild and crazy like that." Jon smirked a little big, and his hands traced up Jarrod's back. "I think we can manage that." He steered Jarrod backwards, towards their bathroom, carefully stepping out of the puddle of sheets, because tripping would not add a fun element to things! Especially if tripping involved cracking into something and injury.
He carefully guided Jarrod to the bathroom and made sure not to run him into any furniture or walls on the way, releasing once they were on the cool, tiled floor. "Of course you're very overdressed," he said solemly, and the flashed a smirk as fingers caught the waistband of Jarrod's boxers and tugged them out playfully before releasing. He reached around and turned the water on, letting it run so it could get nice and warm. Now was not the time for a cold morning shower!
"I'd hate to make the shower gods angry," Jarrod joked back, fingers entwining themselves against the hem of Jon's shirt. There was an old stain on the front. It looked like grease from the garage, many times washed, but it sort of...fit. "Careful careful," Jarrod cooed, trying to help as best he could, kicking the sheet futilely just as Jon got it untangled. It was easy to go with the flow, and Jarrod had enough trust in Jon that he wouldn't be ramming into anything sharp, blunt, or solid.
He just looked up at Jon's face, a crease from the pillow slowly fading from his face. They always ended up with such interesting morning marks. Jarrod had joked once that the bed just liked to see them marked, even if it wasn't by one another. The floor was cool under Jarrod's feet, causing him to jump slightly the first time. "Well, of course. Tsk tsk, the same can be said about you. Really, I don't think either of us would survive alone." Jarrod's palm widened across the expanse of Jon's stomach, slipping under the material and letting his thumb hook against the rumpled hem, pulling it up.
When Jon turned to see to the water, Jarrod's hand slid up his back, his boyfriend's spine standing out against the taut muscles of his back. He waited, a tad impatiently, for Jon to stand up so he could take the shirt off all the way. "One good thing about shower time?" Jarrod quipped, tongue sliding over his lower lip, "Sure does make your nipples easier to get a hold of."
Jonathan shook his head a little bit mournfully. "If I was all alone I'd always forget and wear my clothes into the shower," he said with a sigh for effect before a grin peeked out. He lifted his hands over his head so his shirt could easily be peeled off, and then returned the favour, sliding Jarrod's up and tugging it over his head.
"I know, I always keep them so hidden. Don't want to scandalize everything," he said with a chuckle. He stuck a hand under the water to test the remperature, decided it needed a little more warm and turned it up a notch. Then he shucked off his pockets, kicking them loose of his foot. He moved to lean against the counter then, long enough to unfasten the bionic leg, which he did with praticed ease and set it aside. Jon did strength training often so he had good balance even on one leg, although he did take Jarrod's arm for the process of actually getting into the shower.
The water was warm and coursed over him, soaking into his hair. Jon reached out and tugged Jarrod's arm to drag him in as well.
"And then you'd go naked out into the streets. Mayhem and car crashes everywhere. Airplanes getting to destinations? Forget about it." Jarrod let the pad of his thumb brush over Jon's nipple, his nail tracing the nub before falling down to his waistband. Figuring it was one for all, Jarrod tugged the legs of his boxers down, a shimmy from his hips making them fall to the floor. For someone who seemed pretty caught up in looking nice (and talking trash when people on TV didn't) most would probably be surprised a his inattention when it came to Jon's bionic leg.
It was there, then it wasn't. But Jon still was, and that had mattered the most to Jarrod. Maybe he was becoming a little less superficial. He needed to keep that out of Eddie's head. The buxom blond would berate him, even though Eddie seemed to be as in love as Jarrod was. instead of staring at Jon's missing leg, it was the third one that caught Jarrod's eye.
He helped his boyfriend into the shower and quickly stepped in at the tug. No sense him him falling over the side of linoleum and busting his head on one of the blue whales he'd put down to catch your feet from slipping. "So, who do you think is dirtier?" Jarrod asked softly, the water running down his back as he faced Jon, a hand clampingd own against the back of Jon's neck - as much for support as it was to find a starting point to start massaging.
Jon tipped his head back, eyes closed, letting the water run down over his face. When he opened his eyes, he flicked his hair back so it wasn't hanging in soaking tendrils in his eyes, which was irritating. It settled back on his head, to be fussed with later when he grabbed the shampoo.
"Oh," he started, his voice lazy, and sounding a bit hollow-echoy, the way voices sounded in the shower. "I'd say we're about even." Once in the shower he had his balance back, a surprising amount of steadiness - at least to people who didn't know him. Of which there were none present, as he didn't invite strangers and acquiantences into the shower with them. "I'm sure we can fix that." His fingers slid down Jarrod's wet sides, chasing droplets of water that coursed over skin. "Or add to it." Smirk. A hand slid across his stomach, finger tracing around his navel before dipping in.
"Even?" Jarrod's blue eyes looked up at Jon's face, stepping in just a few inches. He could feel Jon's hand on his body already, eager and slick with the spray of water that was splashing over them. "I do believe, as the brownie points code can testify to, that the receiver of said points gets an extra lather, and first." Jarrod didn't reach for soap. Too messy. There'd be actual shower time later. His hand slipped over to Jon's right shoulder blade, massaging it as his head dipped down and pulled a few drops between his lips.
Jarrod wasn't going to stop what Jon was doing, but that didn't mean the blond didn't want to participate himself. Exhaling across the expance his Jon's collarbone, Jarrod offered punctuated kisses to his boyfriend's skin, knees already folding slightly under him in anticipation. "Told you," Jarrod said, eyes flicking up to jon before his red lips snapped up nippled and drew it into his mouth and across his tongue.
"Oh is that how it goes? Well, I guess I can go along with that," Jonathan said. Guess! As if he wasn't perfectly content to go along with that, especially as Jarrod's hands slid over his skin. The water always gave caresses such an interesting feel, slippery soft and warm as the water rushed around them, steam lifting just enough to fog the forgotten mirror and make the air feel deliciously heavy.
Jon let his eyes lull shut for just a brief moment as Jarrod's lips trapped a nipple. "Mmm. I see." And felt. It sent a lovely warm curl through him. The hand that wasn't ghosting across Jarrod's stomach slid up his back, fingers gliding over the notches of his spine all bump bump bump. "I think I believe you now." His voice was an intimate murmur. Jon leaned in, his lips brushing against Jarrod's temple, tongue catching water droplets before they threatened to fall.
Jarrod's teeth brushed against the hardened flesh for a moment before letting it pop back into place. He had needed the time to grieve, really and truly. But this was an aspect of their relationship that he had missed. It wasn't the act itself - not completely. It was the soft murmurs of pleasure that Jarrod was able to elicit from Jon, and vice versa suring, even before.
Feeling Jon's tongue swipe at him, Jarrod's head cocked to the side just in time to sweep his tongue against the other's, closing his lips against Jon's, but not standing back up. Jon's body was almost like an alien landscape given how often he had explored it before and how little he had since the accident. The back of his hands slid down and over Jon's angular hips, hands turning over so his nails bit gently against the skin of Jon's upper legs. Missing the lower half hadn't led to one being more muscular than the other - squats were still squats, and Jon's thighs were just as taut as ever.
Jon's hands wandered as well, sliding over the familiar planes of Jarrod's body. Up over his shoulder blades, down his arms, up his chest, feeling familiar ridges and flats, soft skin and patches of fuzzy hair. It was territory he didn't mind exploring, again and again.
Somehow water made things sensual, although they never had a problem with sensual, no matter where they were. He breathed out a sigh as Jarrod's nails slid across his skin, a tingling scratch. Jon dragged fingers up through Jarrod's hair, and took a moment just amusing himself by coiling his fingers through his hair, styling it into little coils and curlicues, a smile lingering on his face.
A pleasant sort of hum ran up Jarrod's throat and vibrated against Jon's lips as his blond hair turned brown in the water, those long, skilled fingers tugging and curling, swirling and coiling the strands. One index finger slipped gently up and down Jon's side, feeling the marks of his lifetime through the welts and scars. Life wasn't easy - but since he'd met Jon, it had gotten a hell of a lot more tolerable.
Breaking the kiss like Jarrod was twisting off a soda bottle lid, he pecked Jon lightly on the lips, lashes spritzed with spray from the overhead faucet, heavy on his eyes. A kiss to Jon's jaw and Jarrod's center of gravity dropped slowly. A hand reached for the support rod on the wall, not wanting to slip and miss a square inch of Jon's skin - or end up taking out a chunk with him. The water continued to fall, but Jarrod just spat it out or let it dribble over Jon's skin. The closer his mouth got to its destination, the stronger he felt the tug, the need. Planting a kiss on Jon's right hip, Jarrod sucked the skin between his teeth. He wasn't worried about marking Jon as his own, but the noise that came from his boyfriend's throat was just what he wanted to hear.
Jon's head tilted down, and he washed through half-closed eyes as Jarrod lowered himself down. His lashes made a web-like pattern over the other man, and there was a faint, but very real smile on his face as his eyes followed his movements.
He reached out a hand, fingers curling around the support bar of the shower as well, hand brushing against Jarrod's that was also there. Most of his touch fell away out of necessity as Jarrod moved down, out of reach. His other hand slid down to rest on Jarrod's head. Not pushing, or even guiding, just resting there. Fingers stroking through the dark blonde hair that looked even darker while wet. Thumb sliding along his temple as he watched.
Once the skin was between his teeth for a few seconds, Jarrod released it, letting the bruised skin settled back before he kissed at it. His tongue lanced over the area and then Jarrod's face moved slowly inward. A peck here, his tongue sliding over an expanse of skin there. He was making his way to the other hiip. Finally on his knees, Jarrod let go of the guard rail and let his hands slide up Jon's front.
He smirked at the though of tickling him now, even by accident. Fingers graced over his boyfriend's sides before slipping, gliding down Jon's spine. They came to rest at the small of his back. Jarrod was teasing, and he was a master of it. Turning his face up, chin resting on Jon's hip, his lips parted slightly and his eyes were closed. "Jon?" He whispered over the hum of the shower, pressing a kiss into Jon's stomach.
Jon was largely quiet, except for his breathing, which was drowned out by the rush of the water that poured over them and spattered against the shower bottom, pooling slightly before sliding down the drain. His eyes never left Jarrod though, as if he was the only thing that existed in the world.
The corners of his mouth tipped upward as Jarrod's fingers teased over his skin, sending little twitches through him, his hips shifting under the tease. When his name passed Jarrod's lips in a soft murmur, Jon's eyes opened a little bit more, although his lashes were still lowered a bit. "Yeah?" he answered, just as quiet.
The silence stretched on for a few more moments. Jarrod was looking up at Jon looking down at him. Another soft smile from the blond-turned-brunette. he wasn't looking for appreciation, since that was obvious. Nor was he looking for permission. Jarrod just simply had wanted that moment.
With one hand gliding to Jon's rear, Jarrod's palm began to massage the right cheek, keeping his lover in place. Slowly, inch by inch, Jarrod's mouth moved niward. Teeth and tongue tickling and nipping gently at the saturated skin. once he was in the middle of Jon's groin, Jarrod took a deep breath through his nose, the musky scent had been something else he'd missed. Wetting his lips unnecessarily, Jarrod pulled his head back slowly.
Jon's smile grew as their eyes met, and while no more words were said, there was much that passed between them. For they had evolved to need very little in the way of verbal communication sometimes. Sometimes, a look, a smile, that was all it took, and all was understood.
And then Jarrod's head dropped down again. Jon exhaled a heavy breath, and his fingers petted softly, encouragingly through his hair.