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Izzy liked the cold.
Most people his age didn’t for good reason. And sure, his joints ached more than they had ten years ago and definitely more than twenty years ago. He was in good shape for his age though. In good health despite the risky, stupid shit he’d done with Edward and Jack in his younger years. He was honestly lucky he wasn’t missing a fucking limb by this point. Much less a slipped disk or a fucked-up knee. Funnily enough, Izzy had always dreaded Jack showing his face. However, his presence had meant Izzy got out of doing the more fucked up shit Ed’s unhinged moods wanted to try. As annoying as Jack could be, he’d probably saved Izzy from breaking his leg one too many times, among other things.
So yes, Izzy liked the cold. Not the freezing temperatures or snow. Though where he lived, those were thankfully rare. But he liked fall and the chill. Liked how the leaves changed color. How the world’s whole color scheme briefly changed before going back to greens and browns. He liked that drinking his coffee hot, which was his preferred way, warmed him against the cold winds. He liked that he could save on electricity by keeping the heat low. Unlike in the summertime when the AC was roaring to keep his apartment even slightly comfortable. Which ok, maybe if he didn’t wear all black and at least three layers, summer would be a bit more enjoyable. But he had an aesthetic damn it! One that hadn’t changed for the past three decades and he sure as shit wasn’t going to go out and buy all the clothes and accessories necessary to change it now.
Beyond the practical application of saving energy though, it also gave him an excuse to pile on the blankets. Also why his electric bill was so high in the summer. The high price was worth it to have that weight on him though while not overheating.
Izzy had never admitted to anyone he enjoyed curling up in bed like that. He remembered when Ed had broken into his apartment one day. Panicked over Izzy being so sick he hadn’t even managed to pick up the phone to call into work. The incident had happened years ago. It had been in a completely different flat than the one Izzy was in now, in a different city too. Ed had been utterly shocked to find Izzy bundled up with sheets, a comforter, and three blankets on top of him like he’d made himself a nest. Ed hadn’t stopped teasing him for weeks after the incident. Though he’d also never told anyone. Ed had always been weird like that. Breaking one boundary, sometimes to a cruel degree, yet not others. Izzy had eventually stopped trying to predict Edward and had gone to focusing on simply surviving each of his unpredictable moods.
For a long time, only Edward knew that feared, senior counsel and former nationwide fencing champion Israel Hands who often times made new law clerks run out of their offices sobbing liked to curl up and cuddle with a billion blankets.
Then Frenchie had come into his life.
How it had all come about, sometimes even Izzy wasn’t sure. He liked to listen to Frenchie tell the story of how they got together. He always made it sound like some romantic fantasy. Every piece flowed together. Made sense. Had a quirky little story to go with it. In reality, they both knew it hadn’t been a courtship but a hard, unexpected, messy fall. It had been weird. So, so weird for themselves. Their friends had all thought them insane. Which had funnily enough helped Frenchie and Izzy feel saner about the whole thing. They’d both thought themselves fucking bonkers for falling into bed together. They’d felt a little better knowing everyone they knew were equally fucking confused.
So now there were two people in the world that new Izzy was actually a cuddler and owned bunches and bunches of blankets.
Which was remarkable wasn’t it? Because sure, the first time together had been a quick fuck, but it had kept going after that. Slowly, step by step, Izzy had actually allowed Frenchie into his life. His routines. His mannerisms. Frenchie had done the same for him. They were so different, yet some how they clicked.
Like with the cold.
Despite Izzy’s enjoyment of it. Frenchie hated it. It was their first fall together and in public or private, he spent all his time clinging to Izzy to keep warm. The few times they ended up at Frenchie’s place, Izzy never slept well. He always felt like the entire place was a sauna with how hot Frenchie kept it.
Luckily for Izzy, they were almost always at his place. It was usually closer and they’d still been managing to avoid any issues of paparazzi or fans finding the flat unlike Frenchie’s own. When they were at the apartment together, Frenchie would usually cuddle up while they watched a movie. At least three or four blankets wrapped around them. Or they might be lying on the couch with Frenchie’s long limbs splayed over Izzy. If Izzy was complaining about a case, Frenchie would lay his head on Izzy’s lap and steal a blanket to pull over himself. Sometimes Izzy would be reading as Frenchie listened to a podcast or a recording of his own music when trying to write a new song. Other times, Izzy would be sitting sideways on the couch. Not laying down. Back propped up with a pillow while Frenchie sat in his lap and played with his hair and told him all about whatever stupid shit he’d had to deal with from his manager.
Only three months together and already they’d grown so domestic. Their friends had finally come to terms with their relationship. Though Izzy was pretty sure if anyone knew exactly how comfortable they already were with each other, they might not believe it.
Now that Izzy was comfortable with him, Frenchie loved getting into bed with Izzy. He may have hated the cold, but he could definitely get behind curling up in a million blankets with their bodies pressed tight to each other.
On nights when Frenchie came over but Izzy was already asleep or close to it, Frenchie practically did a speedrun of getting undressed and jumping under the covers. Waking Izzy with his cold nose pressed against Izzy’s back or his icy fingers stealing the warmth radiating off of Izzy’s skin. Nights like that usually came from Frenchie inviting Izzy to a practice session or even a gig, only for Izzy’s work to get in the way. In those situations, Izzy always texted Frenchie good luck if he was performing a set, and also texted him when he was going home or if he had to sleep in the office. One time Izzy had passed out at his desk only to get a flurry of texts and pictures from his apartment. They’d started off cute. Then flirty. Then Frenchie being an absolute menace at his place. Then they’d quickly grown worried when Izzy hadn’t been answering and didn’t respond to any of the missed calls either. Because of that, Izzy had agreed to always text Frenchie when he was headed home or if work was running too late. Frenchie did the same if he was too drunk and going to sleep over with his bandmates or something happened with transportation. Once, despite only being a city away, Frenchie hadn’t been able to make it back that night like planned. It was a good way to ease both their worried minds whenever plans suddenly changed.
Tonight though, Izzy had gotten home on time and Frenchie had simply been at a late-night gig. After a quick text from Frenchie confirming he’d be over that night, Izzy had gone through his usual routine. He did some prep for work tomorrow, both in his home office and in the kitchen. A quick rinse off. Then, he was in bed by ten.
Whatever time Frenchie got home, Izzy was dead asleep. At least right until a wave of cold air hit him.
Izzy slightly came to as Frenchie jumped under the covers. The warmth and weight of the blankets came back a second later. Only with Frenchie’s added mass and his cold digits poking and prodding. Frenchie’s limbs wrapped around him like a koala. Izzy could smell the smoke and sweat still clinging to his boyfriend. Frenchie didn’t smoke, but Roach constantly did and the air was always thick with something at a lot of the places Frenchie played at. Izzy could feel the added roughness from Frenchie’s fingers that always came from working them for two hours straight or more.
“I’m cold, babe.” Frenchie’s breath felt hot against Izzy’s back despite how his chilly nose continued to keep poking his spine.
Izzy hummed. Leaned into the gentle caress of Frenchie’s hands and chapped lips.
“Come on,” purred Frenchie. His body shifted against Izzy. His teeth grazed Izzy’s earlobe before he curled over him and pressed his cheek to Izzy’s jawline. Despite Frenchie’s cold nose, his face was rather flushed. When he spoke again, Izzy could smell why. “Don’t you want to keep me warm?”
Izzy snorted. He was only slightly more awake. The added smell of alcohol had him asking more questions than he normally would have.
“Who drove?” Izzy mumbled.
“John. Of course. Designated driver after the set tonight,” replied Frenchie.
Izzy hadn’t really been worried. He trusted Frenchie. Trusted his bandmates. Knowing John had been the one to get everyone home safely rather than a random cab or some crap driver from the company actually eased whatever concern had sat in his heart. He let his eyes slip shut again. He eased into the continued pressure provided by Frenchie. Callouses trailed over muscles. Fingers twirled and pulled at Izzy’s hair.
The moan travelling through Frenchie’s chest could be felt against Izzy’s skin. “Come on, babe. I’m so cold,” Frenchie whined.
Izzy’s mouth almost twitched into a smile. Frenchie shifted his hips. His half hard cock found the curve of Izzy’s ass. His legs pushed Izzy’s left leg forward. Pushed his shoulders over so Frenchie was partially on top of him now.
With words somewhat running together due to sleep still clinging to his tongue, Izzy mumbled. “How much did you have to drink?”
“Tipsy. I swear.” Izzy believed him. Really drunk Frenchie was always up singing and dancing until he passed out. Frenchie after a few drinks simply got whiny and needy. “Not much at all,” Frenchie continued. His hips rocked into Izzy. His cock could still be felt sliding between Izzy’s cheeks. Even through the boxers.
Izzy couldn’t fight the smile anymore. He gripped the covers and pulled them tighter around them. His hand found Frenchie’s arm. Despite his word, he kept their bodies flush together. “Too tired,” Izzy mumbled.
“Not saying...saying...” A yawn caught in Frenchie’s throat. He finished it off with a soft kiss under the covers and against Izzy’s shoulder. Frenchie’s voice remained muffled as he kept his head mostly under the sheets now. “Not saying we have to go all out. I just need some help warming up babe. I swear.”
Izzy would have rolled his eyes if he felt like opening them. He was tired though. Work had been long. He was curious about what Frenchie had in mind, but... “Not going to be able to stay awake much longer.”
“Doesn’t mean you can’t help keep me warm.”
“Well,” Izzy said with his own long yawn, “you have fun with that. You’ll have to put in all the work.”
Frenchie’s voice was like honey in Izzy’s ears. Even more so as Frenchie’s own fatigue started to mix with the effects of the alcohol. “You sure, Iz? Babe. Light of my life. Honey. Darling. Baby. Pretzel.”
Izzy almost woke himself up from how hard the last one made him laugh. “Pretzel?”
“Sure. Because I can bend you in all sorts of shapes.”
It was hard to say if Izzy thought that more humorous or maybe just a bit of a turn on. Either way, he just pulled Frenchie’s arm around him tighter. If his hips happened to grind against Frenchie’s in the process, that was just an added bonus.
“Please?” Frenchie whined with a breathy moan.
“I said you can have fun with it. Just know I’m not lifting a fucking finger.”
Izzy didn’t just hear the answering laugh. He felt it with how tightly pressed they were. “Just let me know if you want me to stop.”
Izzy let out a soft noise of acknowledgement. Frenchie pressed down on Izzy’s shoulder again. Izzy shifted with him until most of Frenchie’s chest was against his back. It wasn’t out of the norm as far as how they slept. Sometimes Frenchie would wrap himself around Izzy’s back. Sometimes Izzy would curl into Frenchie’s stomach, facing each other. Other times it was similar to this. Frenchie being an extra blanket as he lay partially on top of Izzy. The only real difference was that half hard cock still pushing against him. Those hips starting to shift a little again. Rubbing in slow, repetitive motions. Izzy got used to the feeling at his backside. To Frenchie gently grinding on him and feeling his boyfriend’s cock twitch against his thighs. Another yawn left Izzy’s lips. Sleepiness started to pull him back under as Frenchie kept up the movements. Izzy was so close to drifting off. Even as he could feel himself getting wet at the continued sensations.
Maybe he fell asleep. Maybe only a few seconds passed. At some point, Frenchie pulled the band of his boxers down. His cock slid between Izzy’s thighs and against the growing stain Izzy was leaving in his own boxers. Izzy sighed at the contact. Frenchie finally grew content. He stopped shifting and moving so much. He was happy to just stay there, his cock still only half hard as it was Izzy’s turn to slightly shift his folds against Frenchie. Precum inched down Izzy’s thigh where the tip of Frenchie’s cock rested. Izzy was dripping when he finally fell asleep.
Neither realized it at the time, but a new pattern started to begin.
Sometimes they’d just cuddle and go to bed. Other times things got hot and heavy. But if Frenchie was headed to Izzy’s place late and Izzy was already asleep when he got there, it almost always ended with Frenchie’s cock pressed into Izzy’s thighs as Frenchie mumbled out phrases about how good and beautiful Izzy was at keeping him warm. Tipsy or completely sober, didn’t matter. If Frenchie’s freezing form came around late into the night, Izzy knew exactly how Frenchie would press up against him.
Just the thought of it had Izzy’s throat constricting during the day. His weight shifting from one foot to another. Which was weird because it wasn’t like it ever went farther than that. It didn’t turn him on. At least not in the same way how Frenchie making marks all down his neck and shoving him against the wall turned him on. But it was fucking intimate and more comfortable than Izzy had ever been with another person.
They didn’t address it exactly. It only came up in those small moments. Frenchie always checking to see if it was ok with Izzy as he slipped between his thighs in the middle of the night. Izzy partially awake as he rolled into Frenchie or as Frenchie pushed him onto his stomach with arms wrapped around his chest and his legs spreading Izzy’s hips wide. They were always too exhausted from their respective days to properly talk about it in the moment. And with Izzy being the morning person that he was, he was usually up and making breakfast by the time Frenchie woke up which always dragged the conversation elsewhere.
When they finally discussed the new routine they’d found themselves in, it was on a colder than average night. Like always, Frenchie shot under the covers the moment he was home. Clothes had been thrown haphazardly around the place for Izzy to find tomorrow morning. It started with the usual words that now had Izzy shivering despite being perfectly warm himself.
Frenchie’s breath ghosted against Izzy’s neck. “So good to me.”
“Hmm.”
“Don’t know why people think you’re so hard. You’re not,” Frenchie mumbled into Izzy’s ear. A trail of kisses moved down Izzy’s neck before the cold tip of his nose pressed against Izzy’s shoulder. They were lying on their side more this time. Legs tangled between each other. Frenchie’s soft cock hardening by the second as he worked his hips against Izzy. “You’re soft. So soft and warm.” Frenchie’s hand squeezed at Izzy’s stomach. He’d been starting to get a little self-conscious about that. Or he had been as he’d gotten up in his years and hadn’t been able to maintain his body like he once had. Somehow, Frenchie made him feel good about nearly every aspect of his body. Even with him having over a decade on Frenchie. He sighed as he felt Frenchie parting his legs. Felt his leaking member slide between his thighs as he grew wet at the sensation. “But I suppose you’re still hard,” chuckled Frenchie. He squeezed Izzy’s bicep. Those fingers trailed towards Izzy’s buttocks. Squeezed once more before moving them into another, more comfortable position.
Izzy let his hips relax. His breathing deepened. His body sank into the covers, under Frenchie and the mound of blankets. His consciousness was going in and out. Going from distinguishing the feel of blankets and fingers and Frenchie’s half hard cock to just a general feeling of dark, deep warmth as sleep started to take him again.
Frenchie's fingers hooked a leg of the boxers. They weren't loose enough to pull to the side. Frenchie eventually grabbed the hem instead. "Please, babe? Pretty please?"
Izzy, more asleep than awake now, managed a nod. He shifted his hips. Arced up. They got pulled around his knees. Izzy was too tired to fully kick them off.
Then came the soft sensation of skin sliding against skin. The head dragging itself against Izzy’s clit. He was so wet. Dripping against Frenchie’s shaft. He would have been content with that. Just before Izzy drifted off though, he felt the tip of the half hard member sliding inside. Frenchie kissed him on the shoulder as he went. It was the first time Frenchie had done it like this. It should have been more difficult considering he wasn’t fully erect, only Izzy’s dripping hole made bottoming out easy. The motion didn’t even pull Izzy out of falling asleep. If anything, he fell asleep faster than the days he’d worked himself into exhaustion. Now spread and pressed perfectly around Frenchie’s cock, he drifted off.
Izzy was trying to keep his cool. Roach was tall. For the moment though, he was leaning onto the counter with his elbows. He couldn’t see onto the other side.
Actually, there wasn’t even a counter in the middle of the kitchen. Not in Izzy’s apartment. Even in a dream, he couldn’t help but point out the inconsistencies. Usually, those thoughts helped him to wake up. Now, they got pushed far back for later. He let himself get swept up in the emotions and stimulation.
Izzy tried not to jerk his hips backwards too hard. Too obviously. He did his best to make the motion almost casual, though going that slowly only caused his limbs to shake harder. He could feel Frenchie’s beard brushing against his thighs. His tongue flicking out. Slipping through the pubic hair and dragging along Izzy’s vulva before slipping in where it was wet and warm.
Roach was talking about something. Plans that didn’t make sense in a larger context. Plans that, even if they did make sense, Izzy wouldn’t have been able to focus on. Frenchie had been teasing him. Kissing his shoulders. Thumb sensually rubbing circles through Izzy’s shirt. Finger nail flicking right over his nipples until they were hard and perky. Frenchie had just gotten Izzy’s pants and underwear on the ground when the knock had sounded. They’d heard Roach’s shout.
“Tell him to come in. Tell him,” Frenchie said with mischievousness and delight in his voice. “You said you were going to be home anyways. Just don’t let him behind the counter babe.”
Izzy had somehow managed to sound like his usual self when he’d told Roach to come in.
Another problem as far as realism went. Izzy never would have left his front door unlocked. But again, another thought for the waking world.
Izzy could feel himself dripping on Frenchie’s face. Could practically see Frenchie’s wet lips and how his beard would glisten. Frenchie’s tongue moved over Izzy’s enlarged clit. Izzy tried to move his hips with it only for Frenchie to grab him in an iron grip. He was kept painfully still when all he wanted was to feel Frenchie drinking him in, not playing and teasing with him like this.
And then Frenchie suddenly stood up.
Again, all in a way that in reality would not have worked in the slightest and would have been so fucking obvious but by this point, Izzy was completely lost to the dream.
Frenchie let sweet, little lies fall from his lips. He kept Izzy’s legs the perfect distance apart. His beautifully hard cock slowly slid over Izzy’s slick skin. Izzy tried to grind down on him, back into him. Frenchie stopped him again. Had Izzy begging, pleading for his cock while Roach watched it all unfold. Izzy came over Frenchie. Dripping and needing more. Needing Frenchie to just slip inside and stay there, flush and perfect against his hips and back. Izzy’s knees were weak. Overstimulated and shaking as Frenchie continued to slide his cock between his thighs.
“So good to me, Iz. So perfect. Always ready to let me fill you.” And with that, he finally, finally pushed the head of his member between Izzy’s lips and deep inside him. It became hard. Fast. Skin slapping against skin as Izzy fell against the counter and Frenchie rammed into him—
For the first time in a while, Izzy didn’t jump out of bed upon waking up. He stayed there. Sheets soaked and Frenchie’s cock having partially slipped out in the night. Izzy shook against him. The dream still in the back of his mind. Not knowing just how many times he must have come in the night and feeling Frenchie’s cum still dripping out of his flush lips. Drying on his thighs and in his pubic hair. Izzy moaned. Came again as Frenchie let out a sleepy little gasp of pleasure. His hand crept low. He felt the mess surrounding their legs and hips before gently massaging Izzy’s inner thigh.
“What fucking dream did you have babe,” Frenchie laughed, voice thicker than usual as he pressed a kiss to Izzy’s shoulder.
Izzy’s response came out mumbled. He felt more tired than when he’d fallen asleep, but a good tired. A well earned tired. “We don’t have an island.”
“Nope. Might be nice too. I don’t think either of us is rich enough to actually buy one though. I mean, maybe when I really break out of the country. Get a top ten song overseas—”
“I meant a kitchen island,” Izzy mumbled into his pillow. “Our home doesn’t have a kitchen island.”
“Oh, you mean like those counters in the middle of the room? You know, for just having a dream that has left us both filthy and made you orgasm multiple times, I feel like you’re focusing on the wrong thing babe.”
“Roach was there.”
Frenchie snorted. “What? Like a threesome thing? That’s hot.”
“More voyeuristic like.”
“Oooh, also hot.” Frenchie tightened his grip. Izzy shivered at how Frenchie’s limp cock fully slipped out. He moved, his shaft lightly rubbing against Izzy’s clit. “What’d I do? Fuck you behind the counter?”
“Ate me out first, but y-yeah.” Izzy’s voice shook at that last word as Frenchie more purposefully rubbed his cock against his swollen lips again. “You don’t sound mad.”
“Why would I be mad? People get weird dreams. I mean, I can always invite Roach over in that way if you want.”
“Absolutely not. May be a whore in the dream but you’re all fucking mine in the waking world.”
Frenchie laughed. He finally forced Izzy to turn his head so he could capture his mouth with a kiss. “And I know you love me,” added Frenchie.
“How do you know that?”
“Because this is the first time you called your apartment our home. At least to me.”
“Huh,” murmured Izzy. “I did. Didn’t I?”
Their lips met again. Slow and pulling at each at each other. They’d shift and unexpectedly gasp into the other’s mouth, though both were too overstimulated to actively start again.
“We ever going to talk about this?” Izzy eventually asked as they came up for air.
“Talk about what?” Frenchie’s sleepy expression became utterly serious for a second. “You don’t like it? We can stop. All you had to do was say—”
“No!”
Frenchie laughed at how quickly Izzy said that.
“Don’t be a twat,” muttered Izzy, even as he kissed Frenchie again.
“So you like it?”
Izzy nodded. He shivered as Frenchie rubbed against his sore hole even as his muscles twitched, wanton and waiting to feel Frenchie inside him again like that.
“You like being my cock sleeve?”
“That a word for what we’re doing?”
“Could say so. You want me inside you all day?” Frenchie reached down. He stroked his flaccid tip against Izzy’s clit. “Want to sit in my lap, full and stuffed as you zoom in and try to make a company meeting?”
Izzy full on moaned at the thought. “I’m too fucking old for this.”
“Too old to be prepping breakfast? For me to come up beside you and hold your hips?” Frenchie let his cock rub tiny circles into Izzy’s clit. It felt like it shouldn’t be possible, yet Izzy could feel himself getting wet all over again. “Have you keep cooking as you lean back on my cock and try not to come until I tell you too?”
“Fuck, Frenchie.” The image stuck in Izzy’s mind for a second. He immediately knew he wanted to try it. Knew Frenchie wanted to try it. He tried to focus on his current thoughts at the moment. “But this...it’s normal?”
“I mean if we’re both having fun, both into it and are down for it, then yeah. I’d say it’s normal enough,” Frenchie murmured as he gave Izzy a quick little peck. “I sometimes forget that beyond a hard fuck against a wall, you haven’t experimented much.”
“I was worried you wanting to see my face and kiss me while we fucked wasn’t normal.”
“True,” Frenchie laughed. He could laugh now about it. In the moment, Frenchie had nearly cried at the realization. Thankfully, they’d moved past it and clearly grown comfortable sense. “But yeah. If you’re into this, we can keep doing it. I certainly love how easy your body just lets me in. Like you were made to take me at any moment in time.”
“Frenchie,” moaned Izzy. “Please go easy on an old man.”
“You’re the one already dripping again.”
“Frenchie.”
“Ok, ok,” Frenchie laughed. “Honestly, probably couldn’t get hard now even if I tried. But I look forward to next time. Maybe you sitting in my lap. Reading your book. We can see how often you have to re-read the same page over and over, trying to focus on the words even while you sit with my hard, twitching cock inside you.”
Izzy shivered again. He hit Frenchie’s arm. Even as his body was already aching to try that idea too.
“Any chance you can go into the office late?”
Izzy glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “Well, considering I’m already late, why the fuck not. What’s the point of being made partner if you can’t go in when you want?”
Frenchie laughed before pulling Izzy into another kiss on their absolute mess of a bed.