The rain was coming down in buckets. Jon ran into the studio and slammed the door. He slung his hands away from his body, water shooting from his fingers in all directions. He shook his head and like his dog, everything within three feet around him got a shower.
He heard laughing and looked up. Richie was standing in the middle of the room, his guitar slung over his shoulder.
"You could fuckin' drown out there," Jon commented.
"Looks like you already tried to," Richie continued laughing. He pulled his guitar strap over his head and placed the instrument on a stand near the wall.
"See if you can find something for me to dry off with."
Richie put his hands on his hips and glanced around the room and his eyes stopped when they reached the singer. Jon was soaked, his thin white t-shirt clung to his chest, as if a second skin had laid itself over his torso. His dark nipples were visible through the flimsy fabric.
Richie eye's trailed down the singer's body, taking in the muscled legs in wet jeans, his barefeet standing in a growing wet spot in the carpet.
"You gonna perve all day or get me something to dry off with?" Jon interrupted Richie's eye candy tour.
Jon began to shiver in the air conditioned room. At that moment the lights went out. The low hum of the electronic equipment ceased in an instant. It was pitch black even though daylight was still hanging on by a thread outside. Jon flinched at the shock of lightning that shot through the window and the almost immediate crack of thunder.
"Well, fuck." He turned around, opened the door and stepped outside under the overhang. Richie joined him and the two juggled the decision to stay in the studio or make a run for the house. The rain was still falling in sheets, blowing into them. The house was dark.
There was barely enough light in the dusky sky to reveal the tops of the trees doing a tormented dance in the wind. Another bolt of lightning and another hair raising clap of thunder.
"SHIT! Get back inside." They slammed the door behind them as another flash of lightning lit up the sky followed by more ominous booms. The rain roared down on the roof of the building.
"Well, I guess we'll have to find something else to occupy our time until the lights come back on or it quits raining," Richie said as he tugged on Jon's wet shirt.
In the dim light, Jon could see the wicked smile on the guitarist's face, which made him smile. He had to hand it to his friend. Always the one who could make lemonade when handed a box of lemons.
His mental checklist assured him they wouldn't be interrupted. Dot, Heather and the kids were up at the house, probably had every candle lit already. They certainly wouldn't brave the rain, lightning and thunder to come down to the studio, much less leave the kids in the house alone. Until the rain died, they were safe.
"What did you have in mind?" Jon asked innocently, "Checkers?" he suggested.
"Too dark, whoever's black won't be able to see what the fuck they're doin"
Jon nodded as the lightning careened around the room again and again.
"Your turn, you make a suggestion."
He heard Richie's heavy breathing as he inched closer, then felt a warm moist lick on his earlobe. He felt the rhythm of his heart stagger as pure lust coursed through him.
"I had another game in mind," Richie whispered hoarsely. Jon just nodded, his need to be touched became very urgent. Their eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, then blinded again when the lightning blared in.
The wet shirt came off and made a plopping noise when it hit the carpeted floor. He watched as Richie did the same, raising his shirt over his head and tossing it behind him. It caught on a mic stand and hung there.
Richie's hand felt like fire on the cool damp skin of Jon's stomach.
Richie pulled on the button, partially unzipping Jon's jeans, then stepped back, looked down at Jon's legs then back up and met his eyes. Jon could see Richie's face well enough. He smiled but didn't have to say a word.
The thick fabric was heavy on his legs as he began to strip in front of the guitarist. It was an effort to get the jeans down his legs, but the longer it took, the more feverish his cock became.
Richie did the same, but his pants slid off easily. Jon pushed tangled wet pants his aside with his feet and the two men stood there, drinking in each other's physique with their eyes. The rain continued to pound the roof, flashes of lightning illuminating them for fractions of seconds like a strobe light.
Jon felt his body become chilled again so he stepped forward, embracing Richie, trying to warm himself against the guitarist's body. Richie touched his tongue to Jon's, the thrill racing through him as their mouths closed in on each other.
As Jon felt the warmth spread over his skin, he pressed Richie back towards the doorway of the adjoining room where there was less chance of knocking anything over. The guitarist's hands roamed freely over Jon's body, finally reaching the heated tip of the singer's cock.
He softly stroked it with both hands, then had to pause as he felt Jon's hands on his own thick member. Both men relinquished the other's mouth as they concentrated on the fevered pitch of heat building in their cocks, the slippery moistness of precum being smoothed over hot flesh.
Richie grasped Jon aggressively as he leaned against a counter for support, the sharp edge of the countertop biting into his lower back. Another harsh crack of thunder and lightning brightened the room. Richie saw Jon's expression in that brief moment. The singer's eyes flashed with desire, his mouth open to reveal a glint of white as his tongue flicked out to lick his bottom lip. He felt and heard Jon's warm breathing as they both heaved with excitement.
Jon couldn't suppress the growl rising in his throat as Richie's hammering hand brought the singer's craving for release to the surface. Richie leaned forward, pushed his face into the soft blonde hair. It smelled like a mixture of whatever Jon used in the shower, rainwater and a day's worth of working in the studio.
"Rich . . . stop . . . I wanna fuck," Jon managed to say. The men stepped apart and Jon staggered into the small bathroom, dug in the cabinet over the toilet and found the lube he'd hidden there under some towels. See what a little forethought could accomplish? He returned, fingering his own throbbing member, then letting Richie take over again as they settled on the leather couch.
Richie straddled Jon as he sat on the soft leather. He began to prepare the guitarist, easing a lube slicked finger into Richie's tightened hole, waiting until he felt the tension relax in his legs, he heard the release of air from his lungs. He continued probing, waiting for Richie's signal of readiness, getting it in a very short time.
Richie had slicked the lube over Jon's weighty rod, then raised himself. Jon took the opportunity to deliver a few licks and bites to the guitarist's chest and nipples. He guided himself to the tight entrance, the head of his cock penetrating slowly, slipping in easily.
He was on the brink of his climax already but he willed himself to move slowly, drawing out the strokes, moving in and out, letting the scorching heat in his balls climb higher. Richie eased himself into motion, rocking with Jon's rhythm, both increasing the speed little by little until they were pounding against each other.
Richie was moaning softly with every upward thrust into him, his cock hard as steel between them, the heat raging in his balls ready to explode. He didn't hold back as he released his hot load, the creamy fluid glistening on Jon's skin as it dripped down.
Jon pushed up one last time, his head digging into the soft leather as the raw energy of his orgasm swept over him. His cock pulsed forward, pushing hot come deep into Richie's ass. He felt wave after wave of his hot liquid shoot out of him, finally gave it one last thrust and let out the breath he'd been holding.
The rain was still blasting outside, but the lightning and thunder had diminished somewhat. Richie leaned forward, resting his forehead on Jon's. They were both still breathing hard when the lights came back on. The glare was blinding and they both blinked until their eyes became adjusted.
Jon started laughing softly.
"Sambora, you still haven't found anything for me to dry off with," he wiped up the sticky come dripping down his stomach. Richie gave Jon's mouth one last dash of tongue and got up, headed to the bathroom.
"I can't wait to see you try to put those wet jeans back on," the guitarist laughed as he tossed Jon a towel. Jon caught the towel, realizing he would be hard pressed for an explanation if he was found naked in the studio.
"Shit," he jumped up and fetched his jeans, trying to turn them right side out. Shit, shit, shit. He laughed as he fell, one leg pushing into the cold wet garment.
"Fuck, help me Rich!" he collapsed, laughing hard, hoping he had time to at least pull them halfway up before someone came in the door. Richie doubled over with laughter over him, trying to pull up his own pants.