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Bounce On This	By : AEMorgan Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Bon Jovi Views: 1625 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Bon Jovi. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Bounce On This
- 1
Title: Bounce On This
Author: Adelaide Elizabeth Morgan (falconkenobi@aol.com)
Author Web Page: http://www.aemslash.co.uk Every Generation Has A Legend
Fandom: RPS – Bon Jovi
Categories: Richie Sambora/Jon Bon Jovi, PWP
Rating: NC17
Archive: Yes to list archives. All others, please let me know so I can come and preen.
Thanks to: You, for reading this. Paul, for being patient and understanding when I disappear into the computer room for days on end to write. Riticulan, as ever, for the beta.
Disclaimer: Richie Sambora & Jon Bon Jovi are real people, and the events in this story are just that - fictional, figments of my sick and twisted imagination. Hell, call it a fantasy if it makes you feel better. Whatever. No rumours should be started in regards to any events in these works of fiction. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and no money is being made out of it.
Summary: Richie does exactly what it says on Jon’s t-shirt…

“You…” Jon started to rise from the chair but Richie pushed him back down, straddling his lap. “You are a damn tease!” Richie growled, fingers tangling in Jon’s hair, pulling him close for a brutal kiss.

Jon moaned and pulled back slightly, running his tongue over Richie’s lips. “Who, me?” He asked, trying for a look of wide-eyed innocence but failing to keep his grin from spreading.

“Yes, you!” Richie poked him in the chest, finger trailing down the arrow on the singer’s t-shirt. Jon squirmed, hips brushing up against Richie’s as he pulled the t-shirt up over Jon’s head and dropped it to the floor. “And these need to go.” Richie stood, fingers hooking in the waistband of Jon’s jeans, pulling him roughly to his feet. “Jeans. Off. Now!”

Jon took a shaky breath, hands unzipping his jeans. Richie grinned as Jon’s jeans fell to the floor, the singer stepping out of them. A faint tinge of pink covered his cheeks and he ducked his head, a wave of bashfulness rushing through him as he stood naked in front of his fully clothed lover. His fingers curled and uncurled into fists at his side as he fought the urge to cover himself.

Richie grinned and tipped Jon’s chin up with his finger, kissing him.

Jon moaned, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips.

“You wanna say something?” Richie offered.

Jon nodded and met Richie’s eyes. “You…” He coughed to clear his throat. “You’re wearing too much.” He broke eye contact, chewing on his lower lip.

Richie laughed and glanced down at himself before raking his gaze over Jon. The singer’s hard cock twitched at the show Richie made, eyes running over Jrom rom head to foot. “You’re right,” Richie decided. “I am.” He shot one hand out and grabbed Jon’s wrist, placing his hand on the buckle of his belt. “You might wanna do something about that.”

Jon nodded again and swallowed heavily; fingers clumsy as he unfastened Richie’s pants, pushing them down his legs. Running his hands down Richie’s legs, Jon dropped to his knees, nuzzling his partner's erection, his warm breath ghosting over it, teasing him. Richie moaned, his fingers tangling in Jon’s hair. Another moan died in his throat as Jon’s tongue darted out, lathing Richie’s balls. The guitarist’s fingers tightened in Jon’s hair and he pulled him to his feet, pushing him backward. Jon whimpered, the backs of his legs connecting with the hard seat of the chair and he fell back into it. He blinked back the tears he felt prickling at his eyelids; hands clenching on the arms of the chair to stop himself from rubbing his smarting scalp.

Richie pulled some lubricant from his jacket pocket and threw it at Jon who caught it with a frown. Richie crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow, not saying a word.

Jon flipped the lid and took a deep breath before squeezing some into his hand. He slicked his erection, hissing at the feel of the cold gel on his hard cock. He bit his lip and tensed, trying desperately not to thrust up into his hand. He choked off a moan as he finished, dropping the lube to the floor.

Richie bent over Jon bracing his hands on his shoulders. “Good boy,” he whispered in Jon’s ear, straddling him. Jon’s cock slid easily inside of Richie, brushing over his prostate, his muscles clenching around his lover.

Both men moaned; Richie threw his head back, his eyes sliding closed as his fingers clenched on Jon’s shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. Opening his eyes, Richie locked his gaze on Jon’s - brown meeting blue as Richie brushed a strand of the singer’s hair from his face. He pressed a finger over Jon’s lips as he rose slightly, pushing back down again. Jon grunted, arching up to meet Richie’s thrusts.

Richie stilled, his mouth going to Jon’s ear. “I don’t remember saying you could move,” he hissed. “And I thought I told you to stay quiet?” Jon nodded, whimpering under his breath as he tightened his grip on the arms of the chair. “That’s better,” Richie whispered, rising up again. He started a slow pace that grew more frantic as he neared orgasm. “I’m gonna c… Oh, God….” He grunted, tremors wracking him, forehead resting against Jon’s. “Come for me, Jonny…” Richie whispered, hands sliding down Jon’s chest to pinch his tight, brown nipples.

Jon shook as his orgasm raced through him. “Richie….” He breathed, chest heaving as he collapsed back in the chair. His eyes slid closed, a smile tugging at his lips as Richie kissed him, mumbling the words ‘I love you’.

Richie pulled himself to his feet, still holding onto Jon, locking his knees as he fought to stay standing. His legs trembled from the force of his orgasm. Taki dee deep breath, Richie straightened up and pulled his pants back on. Grinning to himself, he ran his eyes over Jon.

The singer sprawled out in the chair; his legs spread wide, arms dangling over the armrests, fingers brushing against the carpet. His eyes were heavy-lidded, he was breathing hard and Richie’s come was drying on his chest.

Richie picked Jon’s t-shirt up and stuffed it in his pocket as he made his way to the door. Opening it, he looked back over his shoulder at Jon, whose eyes widened when he realised Richie had taken his t-shirt.

“Nice t-shirt,” Richie commented with a smirk as he walked out, pulling the door shut on a stunned and sated Jon.

~El Fin~
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