It had better be overrated, at any rate, considering the miniscule amount he'd gotten these past two weeks. He stared at the ceiling in his bedroom, wondered if he should count sheep. Did that even work for anyone? He wished he had someone to ask. He wished it were morning already. He really wished this fucking insomnia would finally decide it'd played enough havoc with his life and leave him alone. He threw off his sheets and sauntered naked into the kitchen, stretching aching muscles as he went. He'd tried working out an extra hour to wear himself out, but it hadn't worked. He wasn't tired, he was just sore. Not exactly the effect he'd wanted. He poured a glass of water and checked the microwave clock as he drank. 2 a.m. Fuck and double fuck. He had to be up at 7 to catch his flight anyway – may as well pull yet another all-nighter. 4th one this week, but who was counting? So, what to do? London was beyond dead at this time of night. Why couldn't he have insomnia in New York or L.A., where he could distract himself with lights and noise and people? Instead he was stuck in the deadest metro in the world. Just his luck. He wondered if Nick was up and debated calling him before ultimately deciding against it. He'd called Nick twice this week already. A third time and Nick would start to wonder about Warren's mental health. Hell, he was starting to wonder himself. Maybe he could do some work while he was up. He needed three more songs for his website. Only problem was, Warren couldn't really concentrate because of the sleeplessness. The irony was killer – here he was with all this time to write new material and he was too fucking tired to do it. And he couldn't sleep. What he needed was some mind-numbing, headboard-banging sex. A fantastic blowjob by someone who knew what they were doing. He hadn't had sex in almost two months. Maybe that was the problem. Well, he was going to Brazil tomorrow. But it didn't help him right now. Maybe some tunes. He walked his stereo, looked over the CDs he couldn't bear to pack yet. Ah, yes, some Madge would be perfect. He put in the CD and was almost instantly blasted with "Music" by Madonna. He hummed along as he walked back to the kitchen. She could still write a tune, man. He started singing along, "Music, makes the people, come together..." He had the music turned up so loud it took him a minute to realize someone was banging at the door. Who the fuck was up at this hour? Besides him? He opened the door to find Simon standing on his steps, wine bottle in hand. "Good, you finally heard me," Simon said, then raised an eyebrow. "You might want to put on some clothes before you answer the door next time." Warren looked down. Hey, he was still nude, wasn't he? He cupped his balls and waved his dick out at the empty street. "Hi, neighbors." "I'd appreciate it if you didn't wave that thing in my face. "It's 2 a.m., Simon. Who the fuck's gonna be knocking on my door at this hour?" "Fans?" "Then they deserve what they get." "All the same, could you let me inside?" "Sure," Warren replied and gestured the other man in before shutting the door. "So," Simon said, looking at all the boxes lining the hallway. "Almost ready, huh?" "Yeah. Everything's pretty much gone. Just this shit left and that's it." Somehow Warren didn't think Simon had driven over here to talk about the impending move. "Why are you here?" The other man shrugged. "Nick said you've been having trouble sleeping." "Jesus, man doesn't miss a thing." "No, he doesn't. So, wanna help me with this bottle?" He held it up. Best idea Warren had heard all night. Of course, it was also the only idea he'd heard all night, but he didn't let that sway him. "Sure, man. Nothing else has worked. May as well get drunk." "I'll get the corkscrew." "I'll go put on some shorts." Simon waved him off. "No. Don't bother. You're comfortable. I've seen everything anyway." "Whatever gets you off." * * * Warren hadn't felt this mellow in a long time. The wine was nice and smooth, the music soothing ("The Best of the Doors"...Simon's choice) the sofa was comfortable and, for the first time in a long, long time, he was having a decent conversation with Le Bon. They'd been at odds so much lately. It was nice to remember that they'd been friends once. "What's going on in there?" Warren smiled, drifted back to the present. "I was just thinking." "About?" "When we used to get along." Simon laughed. "Back in the good old days." "They weren't really all that good," Warren said. "There was drama just about every fucking day of the week." "I remember." Simon's eyes drifted shut as he leaned back into the sofa. "You were so unprepared to handle all our shit." "I was different." Simon slowly opened his eyes, focused on Warren. "You were unlike us in every way. You had no baggage, no addictions, no hang-ups, no inhibitions. You were just what we needed." "I guess opposites really do attract." "We're more alike than you realize, you know." Warren was in too good of a mood to argue with him. "Not in any way that matters," was all he said. "I'll miss you." Here in this moment, in this time, he could also be honest. "I'll miss you too, Simon." "Will you really?" Simon's tone was speculative. "I wonder." "I will. Fifteen fucking years, man. There were some good times." Simon was silent for a long time. Warren drifted with the music, coming as close to sleep as he'd been able to in the past couple of weeks. Maybe all he'd really needed this whole time was a bottle of Merlot and Jim Morrison. "Can I ask you something?" Warren reached out for his wine, took a sip with his eyes half-closed. "Fire away." "You ever been with a man?" Typical Simon. Pick the most unexpected question and ask it at the most unexpected time. Warren had never figured out if he did it on purpose. Still, he didn't lose his relaxed pose. He just fluttered open his eyelids a bit. "Been with, as in fucked?" Simon was slouching two feet away, his baby blues intent. "Yeah, fucked." Why were they having this conversation right now? He'd honestly been ready to fall asleep. "My ass is still a virgin if that's what you're asking," he finally replied. "I don't plan on changing that." "That's fine. Mine isn't. You can be on top." Warren bolted up, sputtered, choked on his drink. "What?" Had he fallen asleep and not realized it? "Here, let me show you," Simon said, and knelt between Warren's slack legs. The second Simon's mouth closed over Warren's cock, he knew he was still awake. Nothing felt this good in dreams, this sharp, this real. Which meant that was really his former band mate on the floor, sucking on his dick like it was the last ice cream cone on a hot day. He groaned before he could stop himself and was halfway to reaching for Simon's head to guide him along before sanity intervened. Instead, he pushed the other man off. "Tasty." Simon knelt back on his haunches and used his thumb to scoop a stray bit of pre-come in his mouth. Warren kept from groaning at the erotic image. Barely. And said the first thing that popped in his head. "Good God, where did you learn to do that? You've got a mouth like a Hoover." "Michael." Not surprising. He'd always suspected there was more between the two of them than they'd ever let on. "Remind me to thank him in the afterlife." Fuck, he'd done it again. He should be asking what the hell had prompted this, not complimenting him on his performance. "He was a good friend. He helped me through some rough times." "I know." He knew all about missing good friends. "You still miss Frank, don't you?" "Every day, man. Every day. "So, do you want to fuck or not?" Finally, Warren was able to think long enough to string together a question. "What the hell are you doing, Simon?" He sat back, considered the question. "Here I was thinking I was sucking your dick. What do you suppose it was?" "Now is really not the time to be coy." "I've been wondering about you. About how you would taste. And if it's gonna happen with us, it has to be tonight, it has to be now." How he would taste? Warren felt he'd taken the red pill and wound up somewhere completely off the map. "Simon, you know I'm not gay, right?" Simon leaned in to Warren's thigh. "That's fine," he whispered. "I'm not either." Now he really was confused. "Is this some sort of joke?" "No. I said I wasn't gay. I never said I wasn't bi." If he weren't bald, he'd pull out his hair from frustration. Talking to Simon was almost always like this. An exercise in pushing his patience to the limits. "You want to have sex? With me? Right now?" "That about sums it up, yeah. You ready to have a go at it?" Warren leaned back again, conscious for perhaps the first time in a decade about his nude state. He wished he'd put on those shorts. He wished he wasn't sitting here, vulnerable, while having this conversation. He wished Simon was giving him head again. Well, fuck, no sense denying it. It had been spectacular. All the right pressure in all the right places. He'd certainly known what he was doing. And, to be honest, Warren had wondered throughout the years what it would be like with a guy...not just doing a chick with a guy there. Not just fooling around. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the insomnia, maybe it was the full moon. But suddenly, it didn't seem like such a bad idea. Simon was safe, he was a known entity and he was willing to let Warren call all the shots. And Warren was leaving for a month in just a few hours. He couldn't think of a more ideal situation. "We still have some work to do when I get back, Simon. You gonna be cool with that?" God, he couldn't believe he was doing this. But hey, he'd done everything else, why not? Simon grinned slowly. "Yeah," he said, "I'll be alright." He slid his hands up Warren's thighs to cup him. "But I need this." Warren grabbed Simon by the back of the neck. May as well go for broke. "What you need is to get naked." "Kiss me first." Warren had never really contemplated a man's lips before. They had never interested him. So it came as a shock to find Simon's lips were quite soft, very pliable. He slanted his mouth, plundered. Simon countered every move with one of his own, sucking on Warren's bottom lip, nibbling his tongue. "You wanna go upstairs?" Warren's voice was breathless. Damn, he was turned on. Really, incredibly turned on. By Simon. Who knew? "No, here's fine." Simon grabbed the hem of his tank top, drew it off. He stood and his worn jeans followed the shirt to the floor. "I realize I'm not as stacked as you," he began, but Warren cut him off. "You'll do, Simon. I wouldn't want to be with a man who was better built than me anyway," he smiled. "Now get back on your knees and finish blowing me." Simon obligingly knelt. "What about me?" he asked, snaking out his tongue to lick up the underside of Warren's penis. He shivered...Simon definitely knew what he was doing. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so hard. "We'll work on you later," he promised. "I have a fast recovery time." Simon had the hottest mouth. Warren felt enveloped, surrounded, sinking in incredible sensation. He threaded shaking fingers through Simon's hair, guiding him on how fast to move, how much pressure. Simon responded instantly, almost seeming to read Warren's mind. Warren pumped his hips, unwilling to let even an inch of his cock out..."Just like that," he murmured. He was so close...so close... He came in thick, jerking spurts. Simon sucked lightly, swallowing every last drop before leaning up to kiss Warren. He could taste his juices mixed with Simon's own unique flavor. It was incredible. "Now, about my needs," Simon purred against Warren's throat. "It's always about you and your needs, isn't it?" Warren laughed. "Goddamn right." Warren reached down, grabbed Simon's rock hard dick and smoothed his hand up the side. "I think I can accommodate you." "I was hoping you'd say that." * * * "And everyone's always going on about John and Nick," Warren commented, when they were sprawled on the floor, sweaty and sated. Simon chuckled. "Absurd really, isn't it? We've always been the whores of the band and no one ever talked about us getting it on with anyone else." "Precisely because we were the whores. No one had to speculate." "I guess we need to get you to the airport, don't we?" Simon sounded disappointed. "In a bit. I want to come again." "I guess we've got time. Come on." Simon grabbed Warren's hand and helped him up. "Now you want to move?" Warren complained. "You'll like it. I promise." Simon led him into the mostly bare kitchen. "So, what, we're reenacting "Last Tango In Paris" now?" Warren asked. "Should I break out the butter?" "Um, no." "Then what?" Simon just reached on the counter for a new bottle of red wine. "Well, we have to use something, right?" His grin was sly, seductive. Warren shook his head. "Seems like a waste of good wine, man." The singer's eyes twinkled. "You won't think that for long. Unless," he turned, "you have K-Y?" "No. I didn't think I was going to be fucking anyone up the ass anytime soon." "Then Cabernet it is." Simon opened the bottle and took a healthy swig, kneeling in front of Warren again. "You really do have the nicest dick." He took another sip of the wine and slid his mouth over Warren's penis. The liquid was slightly cooler than Simon's mouth and the sensation was almost enough to make Warren come again right there. "Cock-flavored Cabernet...my favorite," Simon murmured. Warren grabbed the back of the other man's head and buried his dick deep down Simon's eager throat. "You talk too much," he gasped. Simon easily took the hint and lavished attention – and wine – on Warren until he thought he'd die from the sheer pleasure of it. No blowjob in the world had ever felt this good. Guttural groans escaped his throat as he leaned back against the counter and just enjoyed. After a few minutes of almost unbearable pleasure, Simon stood. "I think you're wet enough. Don't you?" Between the wine, the cock juices and the saliva, Warren felt more than ready. Still, he took the bottle and poured a little more on his dick, just to be sure. Simon bent over the table, hands spreading his cheeks open...an offering. A forbidden temptation Warren was eager to sample. Slowly, taking great care, he pushed his cock in Simon's hot, willing ass. God, he was tight. "Tell me if I'm hurting you." Simon wiggled a little, causing Warren to slide in a little further. "You're doing fine," he panted. "You feel so good." "I was just thinking that about you." He inched in at a leisurely pace, although it was killing him. When he was finally buried all the way inside, both breathed sighs of sheer pleasure. Warren reached around and cupped Simon's balls, caressing them with roughened fingers. Simon arched back, shifting. The friction against his cock was amazing, exquisite, making him wonder why he'd never done anything like this before now. He started to move, savoring the motions, the hot feel of Simon clenching around him. Warren grabbed the wine bottle, lubricating himself again and started to pump, grabbing Simon's lean hips. He leaned over, nibbled an earlobe. "Tell me what you want," he whispered, his voice raspy with need. "You." Simon matched him, stroke for stroke. "Fucking me just like this." Warren deliberately slowed down, teasing them both. "Just like this?" he asked. A moan of frustration. "Faster." "Beg for it. Beg for my cock." Simon reached blindly behind him to push Warren further in. "Please. Please, Warren. Fuck me like you mean it." That was all he needed to hear. He gripped the other man more firmly, gave them both what they wanted. No finesse, no patience, no teasing. Just Warren's hard cock ramming into Simon again and again, rhythmic and insistent. Simon stroked himself, bucking wildly and that was all it took for Warren to completely lose control. He came with a shuddering roar and had the satisfaction of hearing Simon bring himself to orgasm a mere moment later. Some things really were best when shared. "Do you always send ex-band members off this way?" Warren managed to choke out, when he felt he could breathe again. He slumped down into a chair, drained beyond belief. And he was thirstier than four motherfuckers. Simon sagged even further down on the table, shoulders shaking with mirth. "What the fuck kind of question is that?" he laughed. "I know you never met the man, but I just can't see buggering Roger for all the tea in China." He managed to lean over and planted a kiss on Warren's cheek. "Besides, I would never kiss and tell." "Yes, you would." Another quick grin. "Alright, I would. But, I'm not. Now I need to get cleaned up or you're going to miss your flight." * * * Claudia was waiting for Warren at the gate when his plane landed. It never failed to amaze him that she was still so beautiful, even after all this time. Their separate lifestyles allowed them both freedom and the pleasure of rediscovering each other whenever they were together. Warren went into her arms, gave her a quick kiss, buried his nose in her hair to breathe her in. She smelled of soap and Claudia, a scent that always claimed him. He was home. "So, how was the flight?" she asked, once they were on their way to pick up his luggage. He thought about it for a second, then laughed out loud. "Great actually," he told her. "Would you believe I slept like a baby the whole time?" Onto Suddenly Solo
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