“Are you gonna let me fuck you or no?”
“I-I’d like to try.” Chris glanced to the side, his cheeks burning red. “But I’m not sure I’m ready to get my ass destroyed forever.”
“The fuck?”
“I mean… How are you gonna fit that horse dick in me?”
Marc vibrated with a full-chested laugh.
He didn’t have a micro penis and maybe was a little above average, but Jesus, he was no nine-inch porn star. Didn’t even want to be. It had to be hard to work with that without hurting your partner at some point, especially with how rough he liked it. And girth-wise, he was pretty normal as well. But he got it. It was frightening to get your ass ripped open for the first time.
“With lots of foreplay and lube,” he said as he stood up, outstretching a hand to help Chris.
The guitarist let out a puff of air when he was on his feet. “Fine.”
“Fine, what?”
“Fuck me.”
“You don’t seem very excited about it.”
“I am, but also intimidated as fuck.”
Marc absorbed the space between them and husked, “I’ll take good care of you. Don’t worry. You’re gonna love it.” He planted a slow kiss on his lips. “Now, lie on the bed. On your back.”
“Are you for real?” Chris protested with a knee already pinned on the mattress.
“Yeah.” The bassist nodded as he grabbed the lube he kept in the drawer of his nightstand. “Why?”
“Because it’s so fucking embarrassing that you’ll be looking at my face,” Chris admitted but, once more, he did what he was told.
“Do you trust me?” Marc asked, wedging himself between his thighs.
“Yeah.”
“Then there’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Chris rubbed both palms over his face and inhaled. “Okay… Ready.”
Marc grabbed the pillow under his friend’s head and motioned for him to raise his hips so he could tuck it under his ass. “Legs up here.” He patted his shoulder after sweeping his hair back.
“What?”
“Chris…”
“Okay, fuck,” he grumbled but complied, lifting his legs and resting his calves on the bassist’s shoulders.
“Now relax.”
Marc was doing a great job at keeping his shit together, his mood probably helping with the task since Chris had completely surrendered to him. But deep down, he was jelly. And not the type you dump on a plate and it stays there, wiggling. He was less consistent, more like the lube he squeezed on his palm. Fucking melting.
“Oh shit, that’s cold.”
“Just a second,” Marc said while smearing it over his entrance. “Better?”
“Yeah.”
The bassist massaged Chris’s chest, stomach, and thighs as he dipped a finger into his ass. The guitarist squirmed a little, swallowing a moan he seemed afraid to let out. He was tense, more nervous than him—you didn’t have to be a genius to guess. While this shouldn’t be a big deal, it was. Manwhore or not, this was a first for him.
