Jones was sucking a red lolly pop. His lips and tongue were stained bright scarlet.

"Very Lolita," Dan mumbled gesturing vaguely in Jones' direction with a beer bottle.

Jones' grinned impishly and withdrew the sweet slowly from his mouth with a pop.

"We talkin' the Japanese fashion movement or the novel by Vladimir Nobokov? I only ask 'cos if you'd fancy me in a dress, I could definitely be into that."

Dan was always startled when he was reminded that Jones was actually quite clever.

"I meant the novel. Though now that you mention it, you'd look very nice in a little frilly number."

Jones giggled around his lollipop and shimmied over to Dan's couch and dropped himself onto the older man's lap.

"Yeah?" he said nuzzling Dan's ear.

"How old are you, Jones?" Dan asked abruptly.

Jones stopped nibbling his ear lobe momentarily and looked him in the eyes.

"Well I'm not twelve if that's what you're asking, Ashcroft. You're far from being a chicken hawk yet, old man"

"I'm serious. How old are you?"

Jones blew his fringe out of his face and squinted at the ceiling.

"I'm twenty seven," he said finally

"My eye, you're twenty seven," Dan scoffed, "You're still a kid. You look about nineteen"

"Fuck off, Dan. I'm a grown up!" Jones crossed his arms and pouted, slightly undermining his point.

"Only bratty kids say 'grown up' so that proves it," Dan smiled teasingly.

He pulled Jones further into his lap and kissed his cheek tenderly. Jones kept his arms crossed and remained completely still for several seconds before slowly relaxing into the petting.

"Why do you look so young?" Dan asked incredulously

"Clean living," Jones replied ironically. Dan snorted with laughter. "I dunno really, good genes?"

"Do your mum and dad look good for their age?" Dan asked inquisitively

"Jesus, Dan! Way to kill the mood. Bring up my mum and dad why don't you!"


"And actually I meant good jeans to camouflage my sagging arse," he grinned.

Dan tapped his bottom sharply.

"I won't hear a word said against a bottom I respect and admire so much," Dan scolded Jones.

"So how old are you then? Fifty?" Jones asked churlishly.

Dan smacked him softly on the thigh.

"Rude boy," he growled, "I'm thirty two. Five years older than you"

"Well past it," said Jones in a faux sympathetic voice, "You're lucky to have a pretty little nymphet like me though," he continued while kissing Dan's neck.

"Technically, you'd be a faunlet, sweetheart. Nymphet's are girls," Dan chided quietly.

Jones wiggled in contentment and blushed with pleasure at being called 'sweetheart.'

"I can be a nymphet if I want to," he said petulantly, "I'm the confuser. People don't care if I'm a girl or a boy. They just wanna shag me."

Dan stopped his mouth with a drawn out kiss, all tongues and biting and fighting for dominance. Dan drew back and held Jones tightly.

"No one can shag you but me. You're mine," he said conversationally, "And if anyone thinks they can have you, I'll fucking kill them"

"Aw, Dan. You do care!" Jones closed the gap between them and resumed kissing Dan enthusiastically.

"Do not," Dan protested between kisses, "I just don't want people touching my things."

"Whatever you say, Ashcroft," Jones rolled his eyes and bit Dan's lip.