Cold
Wrapped bodily around him he can feel
every shiver of Richard's body, hear every clack of his teeth. The cold
seeps through three layers of clothing to crawl over his skin.
"Jesus Christ, Rich! You're fucking freezing."
No reason he should expend the energy it would take to confirm the bleeding obvious, not when it's accutely needed elsewhere.
"Are you sure you shouldn't be in hospital?"
The
team have pronounced him to be fine, Jeremy knows, or they wouldn't
have let him leave the medical centre. But there's apparently a canyon
difference between being alive and being warm.
"Let's get back to the hotel."
James
drives. Jeremy is in the backseat of the ridiculously big Land Rover,
Richard huggled against him, stealing his warmth through sweaters and
coats and a blanket James found in the boot. Still he's shivering.
The
movement of the car away from the facility brings about another kind of
movement - Richard twisting against him, under all those layers,
getting closer, seeking a more effective warmth. Short arms wrap around
his neck and waist and he bites his tongue to stop from shreiking as
ice cold skin touches his own and he hears a voice murmur, "Please,
Jez."
It takes a moment for him to work out what Richard's
asking for, a moment when he realises that the arms are gone from
around him and he can hear a zip being worked down. He slides his hands
into the waistband of Richard's jeans, touching smooth, chilled skin,
helping his lover push them and his boxers down over a tight arse and
narrow hips.
His own fly is next, Richard's almost numb fingers
making hard work of it. He knows when those fingers touch his hard
flesh it's going to have to opposite effect to the one Richard's aiming
for. He takes the slim wrists in his hands and brings them to his thick
clothed shoulders, then he slides his own hands down over the firm
buttocks, Richard wriggling into an almost impossible position made
possible only by his lack of height - jeans at his ankles, knees
parted, up around Jeremy's hips.
Sliding his fingertips over the
slick ring of muscle, still lubricated from the gel they used to aid
the insertion of the thermometer, Jeremy feels Richard tense and knows
he must still be sensitive. Bigger, bulkier things have been up there -
Jeremy and James to name two - but under different circumstances.
"Were
you scared?" he whispers, and Richard nods against his shoulder. He
pries the small buttocks apart and positions himself with difficulty.
Richard moves, shifts. Jeremy meets James' eyes in the rearview mirror
and knows he's waiting, as aroused as they are, for the moment they
both cherish... that moment, when Richard impales himself, head of
Jez's cock puncturing the tight ring, sliding through into the slick
channel of his body.
Richard's cry is muffled in Jeremy's hair.
"Jesus, Rich...." He's so cold. Even deep inside where the heat's usually as unbearable as the choking pressure, he's cold.
Pulling
the blanket tight around him, over his thick sweater and winter coat,
Jeremy pulls up his sleeves and slides his arms around Richard's
trembling body, holding him close, giving his warmth as best he can as
his lover rises and falls, the movements jerky but determined.
He
keeps his eyes on the rearview mirror, catches James glancing back when
he should be watching the road. He's gentle with Richard - as gentle as
Richard will let him be - giving him the control, letting him dictate
this. And he dictates short rises and brutal falls, taking Jeremy as
deep as he can in the awkward position.
But the friction is
already warming him from the inside out, his lips on Jeremy's temple
are warmer than they were before, his dick's hard - trapped between
them. And when he comes, his cum soaks hot through Jeremy's shirt. He
comes too, filling Richard, feeling hands gripping his shoulders and a
shaking body coming down from the orgasm high.
~
Under
the heavy duvet in the bed in Jeremy's hotel room, Richard slides into
James' body, warming up the bits of himself that are still cold.