“Yes, sir.” Roger was already spreading his legs and rubbing his hole with spit. He groaned quietly as he pressed his fingers inside of himself.
“Didn’t think to get prepped this time, hmm?” Mickey snorted as he got down on the floor, crawling between Roger’s parted thighs. The vision of Roger’s fingers roughly pushing in his ass made Mickey’s mouth water.
“What? We were very busy today.” Roger grinned. “What with all the fires and the big shootouts. I didn’t even have time to do my hair.”
“You dumb slut.”
“Shut up, you ugly prick.” Roger kissed him and greedily pulled him on top, wrapping his legs around his waist.
Mickey went willingly, kissing him deeply and letting their bodies rut together. They fit so well, like they really were made for each other.
Like water on a grease fire…
Roger slid his hands over Mickey’s ass, pulling his underwear down. Mickey pushed them down around his knees and kicked them off. With nothing between them, Mickey pressed as close as he could. He loved how Roger’s bare skin felt against his own, and the slide of their cocks made him want to fuck hard and fast.
Mickey shifted his hips, trying to roll them over, but Roger wouldn’t budge. Mickey was determined to have him be on top this time and tried again, but still Roger didn’t move. “Mmph, come on.”
“What?” Roger nipped at Mickey’s jaw.
“Get on top.”
“Get fucked.”
“Get on top and you’ll get fucked, you lazy bastard.” Mickey reached down to pop Roger’s thigh. “Right now.”
Roger huffed, but he finally allowed Mickey to switch their positions. Straddling his hips now, he smirked down at him. “Happy now?”
“I’ll be happier when my dick is in you and you stop talking.” Mickey stroked his thighs.
“Hang on.” Roger leaned back, reaching for his pants. From inside his wallet he grabbed a small packet of lube and chewed it open. “Mm, always be prepared.”
“Slut motto?” Mickey stroked himself with a smug smirk.
“It’s the ‘I want dick when I fuckin’ want it and spit sucks as lube’ motto.” Roger squirted the lube directly on Mickey’s cock.
“Hey!” he hissed. “It’s cold!”
“Aww, poor baby,” Roger cooed sweetly. “You want me to warm it up next time, huh?”
“I hate you so much right now.”
“I’ll make it all better, promise.” Roger took over stroking Mickey’s cock, slicking him up from root to tip. He thumbed around the barbell running through Mickey’s frenum, sliding around it until Mickey was thrusting into his palm.
“Fuck.” Mickey loved when Roger played with his piercing. It made him want to seek out more friction, and he rocked upwards with a small groan.
“Mm, hang on.” Roger stopped to lube himself up with what was left on his hand, and his eyes closed as he got carried away fingering his hole. “Mmm… fuck, that feels good.”
“Do you know what else feels good?” Mickey asked impatiently. “My dick.”
“Shut the fuck up.” Roger kept going, his sculpted stomach flexing as he hit what must have been a particularly pleasurable angle. “Mmm, yeah. Fuck.”
Although Mickey sort of liked watching Roger play with himself, he wanted to take back control of the situation. He couldn’t have Roger not listening to him. “Last warning.”
“Fuck, it’s so good.” Roger ignored him. “God, I bet I can make myself come like this.”
This little shit is baiting you.
Mickey knew it was a trap to bring on his wrath, and he couldn’t deny how well it was working. It always did. Roger knew exactly how to get to him. He grabbed Roger’s cock and pulled, jerking him forward. It was pretty effective, and Roger immediately scooted up with a pained whine.
