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Simon could hardly believe he’d come home to a quiet house. For months, he’d woken up at odd hours of the night to his son crying his little lungs out. The usual bags under his eyes had taken on a new sickly shade of blue. That wasn’t to mention the passive-aggressive emails about the tank in his performance at work. The most recent ones had even brought up how sought after his role was.
So returning to an eerily peaceful house after a long day might’ve been a blessing to anyone else, but Simon was an anxious single father. How could this babysitter, on their first night of all things, settle the usually wailing baby when the others couldn’t? He’d read the horror stories. Absolutely too many of them to be healthy for his mind, but he wanted to be prepared for the worst.
Simon dropped his briefcase bag by the front door and glanced at his watch. It was a little later than he’d intended. He pushed down the nerves threatening to send him into a panic and quietly walked up the stairs. He strained to pick up any sounds that would indicate anything. The entire house was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the hallway wall and the creak of the floorboards beneath his shoes. He reached out for the nursery room door, holding his breath. His other hand gripped his phone. He gently pushed open the nursery door, and the relief that swept over him nearly made his knees buckle.
There, in the old rocking chair, was the babysitter, the child swaddled and sleeping in his arms as he swayed back and forth and stared at the laptop sitting next to him. He glanced up as he noticed Simon standing in the doorway. “Mr. Riley!” he said, just loud enough to hear.
“Sorry I’m late, John,” Simon whispered back, trying for an apologetic smile.
“It’s no problem, sir.” John gave him a charming grin. He watched the young man gently place his baby in the crib and creep out of the room, shutting the door behind himself.
John was the college student Simon had found through a friend of a friend. He was a smart, snarky young man with good grades and a passion for engineering, as Simon came to learn upon their first meeting. He’d had plenty of experience from taking care of his younger siblings and the various other babysitting jobs he’d taken up around his hometown. Now that he was in the area for university, he needed a little extra cash from hours that didn’t interfere with his classes.
Simon didn’t exactly know what drew him to the man. John wasn’t necessarily a last resort. He wasn’t a bad choice either, but Simon hadn’t let a college kid take care of his son before. He couldn’t ignore the idea of a crazy party sweeping through his house and leaving his baby crying somewhere, ignored beneath the pounding music. But John and him had just… clicked. He had even made the exhausted older man laugh a few times despite the migraine pushing at the back of Simon’s head at the time. Safe to say, there wasn’t a sign of anyone other than John having been in the house since he’d left.
“You don’t have to call me that–Simon is fine. We’re both adults,” Simon said with an awkward chuckle. He leaned back against the wall, sliding a hand over his hair. He could feel the weariness falling on him like a weighted blanket.
“Call me Johnny, then,” the babysitter said. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking Simon up and down. The older man felt a little nervous under his gaze for whatever reason. He was just tired, he reasoned.
“How was he?” Simon blurted out, if only to end the silence.
“Hm? Oh, he’s just fine. Wee lad ate like he’s twice his size. No diaper rash or anythin’, and he fell asleep easy enough.” Johnny started walking towards the stairs and Simon stumbled to follow him. He was surprised by it all, really. He had trouble getting his son to settle at even the best of times.
“That’s… that’s good,” he muttered under his breath. He trailed Johnny to the kitchen, shoulders slumped. He reached into one of the cabinets to pull out his half-finished bottle of bourbon. He wasn’t even thinking about it. It was a bad habit he’d fallen into to get himself drowsy enough to sleep until his alarm went off, usually only an hour or so later. He noticed Johnny staring at him and he paused, shame burning across his cheeks.
“Want a glass?” he asked.
“Won’t turn down a good drink,” Johnny said, resting his hip against the counter. With his head bowed over his phone like this, Simon could see down the front of his low-cut shirt. The man was ripped. Simon had been in good shape in the military, but working around the clock to provide for him and his son hadn’t left much time to work out. He felt completely disheveled in comparison to the strapping young man standing across from him. It was just miles of tan muscle painted with swirls of dark hair. Johnny looked up at him and he tore his eyes away, face flushing.
He poured both of them a few fingers of the whiskey. His hands trembled slightly, clinking the bottle against the glass. He handed it off to Johnny, already bringing his own up to his lips. Their fingers touched as he passed it over. It was a long, lingering moment, and when he glanced up at Johnny’s face, he felt a warmth from more than just the alcohol settle in his stomach. The man was smiling in that effortlessly captivating way, the tip of his canine poking over his bottom lip. He lifted his drink up in silent cheers before pressing it to those lips.
“Ye usually work this late?” he asked. Simon swirled a finger around the rim of his glass.
“Took up overtime recently. ‘s why I needed someone older to stay over tonight,” he explained. The conversation reminded him that he was still in his full piece suit and he was beginning to feel a little warm. He set his glass down and worked to take off his jacket, walking to the front door to hang it up on the wall hooks. He unbuttoned his sleeves and slid them up to his elbows, checking his watch again. God, it really was late. He was so grateful Johnny was willing to help him out like this.
He returned to the kitchen, shoes clicking on the tile floor. He looked up and met Johnny’s eyes then, and it made him go very still. His breath caught in his throat like he was trapped under the stare of a wolf.
The young man wasn’t hiding the appraisal in his half-lidded eyes. His gaze roved up Simon’s legs and over his now-exposed arms, lingering on the dark ink of his tattoo sleeve. Simon exhaled sharply and Johnny’s eyes flicked to the movement. He was unabashedly staring at Simon’s chest now, visibly swallowing like he was salivating. Simon felt the blood rushing to his head. He was being eaten alive under those blue eyes, those long lashes.
“Johnny?” he croaked. The man walked toward him, stride confident. He stopped inches away and leaned forward until Simon had to take a nervous step back, bumping into the kitchen table.
“Mr. Riley,” Johnny purred. Purred. Simon didn’t know how else to describe the soft, sultry tone. His heart pounded in his chest. “Ye’re workin’ so hard fer yer wee bairn.”
Simon wasn’t quite sure what was happening. He nodded dumbly, jaw slack in shock. Was… was Johnny flirting with him? Coming onto him? In his own home? He didn’t get flirted with very often anymore. He didn’t consider himself that old even if the early gray hairs at his temples argued otherwise, but the decline in opening comments at bars had him feeling aged. But now, facing down such open, undeniable lust had him literally stumbling.
“Ye need a chance to relax, aye sir?” Johnny whispered. He reached up and started to pull and loosen the older man’s tie. “Could pay me back jes’ like this…” His other hand rested on Simon’s chest. The touch was light enough that Simon could push it away if he wanted. There was a beat of silence, of stillness. Simon was running over every thought in his head until he was dizzy with it. He hadn’t had nearly enough alcohol to impair his thinking, so what was with the flush spreading down his neck? Why wasn’t he turning him down? Wasn’t this wrong, being so much older?
He didn’t want to say no. If he was honest with himself, he’d admit he’d been enchanted by the young man since the moment they met. Who wouldn’t be? Johnny was witty and handsome. He was gentle in the right ways and confident in others. He’d put Simon’s son to bed with more care than Simon took for himself. Staring down at Johnny now, meeting those dark eyes and feeling the butterflies take flight in his stomach, he knew he couldn’t say no.
“Yeah,” he managed. His voice came out strangled. Johnny chuckled and pulled him down by his tie, leaning up and pressing their lips together.
He was so, so warm. Johnny moved closer and trapped Simon against the table with his body until they were touching from their collarbones to their knees. Johnny didn’t hesitate to slide his tongue across Simon’s mouth, and then into it as the older man gasped in surprise. Simon melted into the touches, his eyes fluttering shut. It all felt irreversible, unstoppable, perfect.
Johnny’s kisses were feverish and hungry, like Simon might disappear if he gave either of them a moment to breathe. Simon didn’t know what to do with his hands, shakily bringing them up to Johnny’s jaw and then sliding them over his shoulders immediately after.
One of the younger man’s hands slid over Simon’s hair, catching in the slight curls that’d escaped his gel and pulling his head back so he could bite and pull on his bottom lip. Simon’s cock twitched in his pants at the brief sting of it. Well, that’s something he didn’t know about himself. His other hand came up and cupped his jaw, his thumb stroking along the stubble there.
Johnny was urgent but not pushy. He guided Simon where he wanted him, tilting his head to kiss him deeper and kicking his legs apart to stand even closer. Simon could feel the hard length of him against his hip. Johnny hummed in satisfaction, sliding a palm up Simon’s thigh and squeezing.
Simon could stand there forever, wrapped up in Johnny like he was. But the younger man seemed to be getting impatient. His deft fingers started unbuttoning Simon’s shirt, revealing swaths of pale skin dusted in fine blond hair. Simon shivered as cool air washed over his flushed chest. He clutched at Johnny’s back as the kisses got deeper until they were practically licking into each other's mouths. He could feel the man’s muscles through his Goddamn clothes.
The edge of the kitchen table started to dig into Simon’s back as Johnny pressed up against him. He winced and pulled away to say something but his voice died in his throat as Johnny began to kiss along his jaw instead. Simon could feel the tease of his teeth against his skin. Johnny’s hands parted his shirt and slid over his stomach to settle on his waist, squeezing and groping at the give of his sides.
“Johnny…” Simon whined, shuddering as it earned him a light bite at the curve of his neck. “Johnny, my… my back.” The younger man glanced up at him, his bottom lip pouted out.
“Take this upstairs then, aye?” he asked. Simon pulled a face. He didn’t want to be doing such… obscene things in the room next to where his son was sleeping. He glanced around for a moment.
“The… the couch?” he offered weakly. It’d be hell on his body tomorrow morning, but he wasn’t giving up this chance. Johnny shrugged, an amused expression on his face.
“Whatever ye want, sir,” he teased. He straightened up and swept Simon away from the kitchen and into the living room. He put a palm onto the older man’s chest and pushed him onto the cushions before pulling his shirt over his head. Simon had to stop and stare for a moment, his jaw going slack.
“Dinnae be shy now,” Johnny chuckled. He took one of Simon’s hands and directed it to the hard muscle of his abs, just above his dark happy trail. Simon felt a surge of self-consciousness sweep over him at the sight of his own exposed belly, soft and pudgy over his belt. He sat up and sucked it in, his eyes shyly flicking away from the much more fit younger man standing over him. He didn’t really understand why Johnny was so interested in someone like him when he could easily seduce someone on his own level.
“Simon?” He glanced up to find Johnny on his knees in front of him. He blinked a few times. When had he moved?
“It’s alright, kid,” he replied, the nickname slipping from him. Johnny let the moment go in favor of grinning slyly. He lifted Simon’s ankle up and undid the laces on his work shoe before slipping it off slowly. Simon felt his stomach swoop as he repeated the process on his other foot. Each movement was careful and measured, offset by the dark hunger in the blue eyes that refused to part from Simon’s. Lightning practically crackled between them.
Johnny pressed kisses up the inside of Simon’s leg until he reached his belt. He rested his cheek on the older man’s thigh, looking up through those eyelashes that drove Simon insane as he unbuckled it. Simon lifted his hips to let the man pull his dress pants down, leaving him in his boxers and his unbuttoned shirt. He could feel the fabric of his shorts seeping through with his own arousal. God, he didn’t even know he could get that wet anymore.
“What a dream ye are,” Johnny murmured. He leaned up and kissed Simon again, thumbs sweeping over the flush returning to the older man’s cheeks. It was nauseatingly sweet, enough to choke Simon with it. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to stop the hot tears from falling.
Johnny rolled his hips up against Simon’s, the tent of his cock obvious in his pants. The friction had them both moaning, Johnny’s voice unrestrained and gravelly with arousal. It made Simon feel good, physically and more, to know that he was turning Johnny on.
Johnny cupped his cunt through his boxers and he tore his head away, burying it in the back of the couch. He squirmed as the firm part of Johnny’s palm nudged perfectly at the base of his cock, lips swollen when he bit down to stay quiet. Johnny mouthed at his ear, sucking at the sensitive spot just behind it.
“No hidin’,” he whispered, breath hot on Simon’s skin. Simon threw an arm over his face as the younger man placed a hand on his pec and squeezed. “C’mon, Mr. Riley…” His fingers dipped under the older man’s waistband, the calluses catching on his skin. Simon’s heart was racing and he was sure Johnny could feel it under his palm. Under either one, really.
Johnny’s fingers swiped through the slickness gathering in Simon’s boxers. The tip of one dipped into him briefly, sending jolts of pleasure up his spine. For all his urgency earlier, Johnny seemed just fine drawing this out.
“Johnny,” Simon mumbled impatiently. Johnny grinned, tilting his head like an innocent dog. More like an insolent puppy, Simon thought absentmindedly. He made an unappealing noise as Johnny suddenly yanked his underwear off. His hands shot down to cover himself, his thighs squeezing together. Johnny didn’t tease him for it this time, even if his expression said he wanted to. Instead, he pushed his own pants down.
Simon felt the blood rush in his ears. Johnny’s cock was… intimidating, to say the least. The man stroked himself a few times, pushing the foreskin over the tip and drawing it back to expose the pink, leaking head.
“Ain’t bad, huh?” he said, tearing Simon from his mindless staring. He swallowed thickly. He let Johnny slide up between his legs and guide his hands away from his cunt, placing them over the back of the couch instead. The younger man rubbed at Simon’s slick, flushed folds with his thumb. His eyes were soft with some kind of adoration and it made Simon burn up from the inside.
Hesitation clawed at the back of his mind. Did Johnny really want him? Would he even be able to get off? His libido wasn’t what it used to be… Could he truly satisfy him?
Simon put a hand on Johnny’s hip. “Wait, you—you’re not gonna take your pants off?” Johnny’s sweatpants were in fact wrapped around his thighs, only as far down as they had to be.
“Gettin’ cold feet?” It was strange, how Johnny saw straight through him. The man’s cocky grin dropped away for a moment. “We dinnae have to do this. I’ been told I’m plenty good with my mouth. Or I can go home,” he reassured. Simon quickly shook his head.
“It’s just… it’s just been a while,” he admitted. And it had. He hadn’t had a moment to himself since his son was born. It had hardly even crossed his mind. Yet here he was, spreading his legs for his college-age babysitter.
“Don’ worry, sir,” Johnny said, leaning in to kiss him. “I’ll be gentle.”
Simon tried not to tense up against the subtle pressure of Johnny’s cock splitting him open. That’s truly what it felt like, thick as he was. Their noses brushed together as Johnny hunched over him, brow furrowed. Simon exhaled sharply as Johnny finally pressed their hips flush. He could feel the tip of his cock deep inside, nudging at places he hardly recognized.
“Fuck, Johnny,” he whispered hoarsely, head lolling back as the man pulled back. The friction sent heat flaring in his gut. He moaned under his breath, hands gripping the cushions of the couch.
“Tha’s it, baby…” Johnny purred. He thrusted slow and steady, his muscles rippling beautifully with the movement. Simon felt his eyes drifting shut, his body going warm and pliant in Johnny’s hands as he let the simmering pleasure settle inside him.
Simon felt overwhelmed by the intimacy of it. If he managed to keep his eyes open long enough, he could see Johnny staring down at him, taking in every expression and movement. The younger man’s mouth was slightly parted, lips red and wet, and Simon wanted nothing more than to kiss him again—
His spine suddenly went taut as Johnny rubbed circles on his swollen cock. It sent sparks flying in his stomach. The younger man grunted as Simon’s cunt fluttered around him.
“‘m gonna go faster now,” Johnny warned, and it struck Simon that their slow pace before had been to let him adjust to Johnny’s size. And he’d hardly noticed because it had worked. It surprised him that Johnny would be that considerate. Maybe it shouldn’t have.
Simon just hummed in response. He jumped as Johnny grabbed his waist, pulling him until his ass hung off the couch. He then guided Simon’s legs up until he could feel the strain in his thighs, his knees inches from his own face. He leaned over the older man, bracing his hands on either side of his head.
“All good?” he asked softly. Simon nodded.
It was like a switch had flipped. Simon cried out as Johnny fucked into him like a man possessed. He’d be worried that the sound of skin on skin was loud enough to wake up his son if he had the mental capacity to do so. Instead, he was fighting to keep his eyes from crossing as Johnny’s cock slammed against those bundles of nerves that had his toes curling.
Simon’s hands clawed at Johnny’s back. He scrabbled for a grip as he was fucked into the couch. The pleasure in his gut was coiling tight, building like an avalanche gaining speed. He gasped out a warning, his incoherent moans pitching up as Johnny leaned back to take him between his thumb and forefinger and jerked him off furiously. His thighs squeezed around Johnny’s waist, back arching, curls splayed across the couch like a blond halo.
“Baby, baby—” he whimpered. His legs started to shake. Johnny didn’t let up, panting and groaning his own ecstasy into the air between them.
Simon felt his orgasm crash over him like waves against a cliff. He shivered and trembled through it, body jerking as if it didn’t know whether to chase or escape the stimulation driving it to its peak. It seemed to last forever as Johnny kept fucking him through it.
He felt those tears he’d been fighting back earlier make their way down his cheeks now. Johnny’s eyes flicked to them and he smiled sweetly, pausing his thrusts. He leaned down and licked them away, breath sweeping over Simon’s face like a balm.
“Can I keep goin’?” he whispered, nuzzling into Simon’s hair. His hips were twitching forward eagerly but he was obviously keeping them as still as he could.
“Yeah,” Simon sighed. He cradled Johnny’s face in his palms and pulled him in for a kiss, ignoring the twinge in his back. He threw his head back as Johnny started to fuck him again.
“So fuckin’ wet…” Johnny groaned. Simon could hear it even over the sound of their voices. He sobbed as his fading orgasm suddenly doubled into something unfamiliar and overwhelming, a pressure in his stomach threatening to burst.
“I’m—Johnny, I think I’m…” Simon squirmed, a little intimidated by the sensation.
“Me too. Can—can I cum inside ye?” the younger man huffed, pace stuttering. Simon didn’t even have to think.
“Yes! Yes, fuck me, please—”
“Make ye a daddy again, huh? That what ye want?” Simon made a broken noise, feral and needy and desperate. He grasped at Johnny’s arms.
“Yeah, have your baby, please Johnny fuck me,” he blabbered. Johnny growled through his teeth and with a few final slams, he buried himself deep inside Simon. His muscles twitched as he came, sweat beading on his back as he lost himself in Simon’s cunt.
Johnny spilled into him in short, sharp bursts. He could feel the warmth flood in his gut. Simon still had that strange feeling building in him even as Johnny slowed and began to pull out. It was like a stopper being removed and Simon shouted, hands digging into Johnny’s neck because he couldn’t stop it—
Simon’s mouth formed around a silent scream. The air just stopped in his lungs. White flashed behind his eyes and then he was squirting, liquid splashing against Johnny’s abs. The man laughed in shock and reached over to rub at Simon’s cock, only heightening the sensation until Simon was shaking from head to toe.
Simon felt the world come back to him in a haze, his chest heaving. He turned his head, limbs moving slow. Aftershocks made his thighs spasm and twitch. Johnny swept the hair off of his sweaty face, tucking the curls behind his ear.
“All right sir?” he asked softly. Simon felt a cramp forming in one of his feet. He was stiff all over but beneath that was a satisfying buzz. He made a weak noise of affirmation. “God, dinnae ken ye could do that.”
“Me neither,” Simon replied breathlessly. He let Johnny sit him up, wincing at the feeling of emptiness and the warm drip of cum from his cunt. He was sure it was fluttering and gaping, if the cold air down there told him anything.
“Fuck, tha’s a sight…” Johnny murmured. Simon eyed him warily. Well, as warily as he could, already drifting off as he was.
“I’m not your age any more, MacTavish,” he warned. “Watch yourself.” Johnny laughed at that.
“Ye think I really could?”
“Could what?”
“Get ye pregnant.”
“I’m too old for that,” Simon grumbled. He leaned his head back and shivered. The sweat was cooling on his skin now, making his work shirt stick to him. Ugh, he’d have to wash that.
“Not really,” Johnny hummed absentmindedly. He brought Simon a glass of water. From where, the older man had no idea. “Me ma was 38 when she had my sister.” That made Simon peel open his eyes.
“Seriously?” Johnny nodded. He plopped onto the couch next to Simon, offering him the cup. Simon took it gratefully and sipped, sighing as it wet his dry mouth. His throat felt sore from moaning so loud. At least he didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed about it.
Johnny leaned into Simon’s side, his head resting on the man’s shoulder. Simon felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him. The sun was coming up outside, but Simon knew he didn’t have to face the day alone. He had Johnny, and he had his son. He cradled the man closer, nuzzling into his neck.
“Stay?” he whispered.
“‘course,” Johnny replied.