“Okay.”
Propped on his palms, Marc worked against Chris’s body resistance, sliding raw inside of him deeper with every second that ticked away. He’d never imagined fucking someone would feel this incredible. It was just sex. Yet it wasn’t.
“Oh, fuck!” Chris whimpered out a hoarse, strangled noise, dick twitching so hard it slapped Marc’s abs. “That… fuck!” His hips quivered as he threaded his fingers through the bassist’s hair that was flowing down over him, trying to hold on to anything while his other hand remained clutched to the side of the headboard.
“Feeling good?” Marc strained, fighting the urge to ram into him when he dragged his pelvis back a bit.
Chris tried to speak, but only a bunch of incoherences left his mouth.
Slowly, with their breaths buzzing in his ears and an unbridled heart hammering against his ribs, Marc fully sheathed himself into the tightest, hottest place he’d ever been. It felt like home, making him lose his mind. With a palm cupping Chris’s balls as he straightened again, he stared at where they were connected. He couldn’t believe this was happening. And even if the sight of the seven deep marks hidden under ink on his inner thighs still rattled the bassist’s guts, the image beneath him would be branded into his brain until his last day on earth.
Marc grazed his fingers over the scars. He’d noticed them the night in LA but didn’t dare to ask; not when his friend had never mentioned having self-harmed in the past. It was devastating thinking about what he could have gone through to hurt himself so badly. However, as painful as it was, this only added another layer to his already complex geometry.
Chris was madness, perseverance, and strength. He was a breath of fresh air, an inspiration, a beautiful contradiction made of secrets and dark humor, of ink, lustful promises, and chaotic peace.
“OhmyfuckingGod!” he choked out the words as his head tipped back on the mattress. “So… deep.”
“You feel amazing, baby,” the bassist purred in his ear. “Next time I’m recording this because… Fuck.” He moved slightly backwards before pushing in again. “Your ass stretching for me is one of the most erotic things I’ve ever seen.”
“Jesus! Fff-fuuuck!” Chris fisted the bassist’s hair on his scalp.
Marc smirked, repeating the same motion. “There?”
“Y-yeah… Holy fucking shit!” The guitarist covered his face with both hands and laughed. “It’s still the weirdest sensation ever, but…” He contorted as Marc kept slowly easing in and out of him. “Fuuuuck!”
“Want me to keep going?”
“Yeah… God, fuck! Don’t stop!”
With Chris’s legs resting against the crook of his elbows, Marc repositioned, tilting his ass up slightly, changing the angle.
“Fuck!” both of them hissed.
“I don’t think I’m gonna last long,” Chris croaked, scowling in embarrassment as he thumbed the pierced head of his engorged cock. Pre-cum was dripping onto his abdomen, so thick it looked like he was already coming.
“That’s alright,” Marc rasped. “I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back for long, either.”
A few seconds went by, and he began to move, languidly prolonging each stroke, grinding up at the end to steal from Chris those whimpers that sounded like a mix of a grunt and a moan.
There was no need to fuck hard and fast. Not when this slow rocking was feeling so insanely good. Slippery. Narrow. Hot. And being able to see the expressions his friend was making as he explored his body, to feel the hunger burning inside of him as he fisted the bassist’s hair again, was a fucking fantasy.
Alternating between shallower and deeper thrusts, Marc’s entire being shuddered. This ridiculously sexy and powerful man was completely undone beneath him, shaking with the waves of ecstasy seizing them, unprotected and so delightfully shattered inside out.
“Chris,” Marc called without stopping pounding into his ass, unconsciously picking up the pace. “Can I choke you?”
“What?” His eyes snapped open and fixed on him.
He had kept the beast at bay while he was prepping him. But now that his friend was enjoying himself through the burn of his first anal penetration, spilling pulses of cum everywhere as his cock bounced with every thrust, the animal within was gaining on him again.
“Choke you,” he repeated, slamming harder. The slap of skin and the guitarist’s groans echoed in the room. A part of him was still afraid he might be hurting Chris, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable, which only fueled the fire already burning out of control. “I wanna choke you.” He grunted. “Fuck, I need to fill your ass with my cum so bad…”
Marc had a thing with breath play and breeding—as weird as that sounded when he was with another man. Obviously, he couldn’t fulfill the second with a random hookup; no way he was risking his health over a kink. But with Chris, he could. They were clean. They trusted each other.Fuck. There was something primal in coming inside someone while having their life in his hands. Something that awakened and calmed his urges like nothing else. He knew this wasn’t for everyone, and he didn’t go easy on his prey, so he needed to get the guitarist’s voiced consent.
“Answer me.”
“Fuck!” Chris moaned. “Yeah. No. Shit, I don’t know…” He squirmed. Letting go of the headboard where he’d been holding on this whole time, with his other fist still curled at the bassist’s scalp, he began jerking himself furiously. “Do whatever the hell you want. Just make me come.”
“Do you have a safe word?”
