“Stop mocking me.” The bassist tightened his hand on his crotch.
“Fuck,” Chris whined, letting the cigarette fall. Every single muscle in his body pumped and blood rushed towards his cock. “Fuck, dude… Yeah. Okay, I get it. No more teasing. I’ll accept whatever punishment you decide if I act like a twat again. Now, can you please stop squeezing my dick and actually make me come?”
As those words rolled off, Marc sealed the little space left between their mouths. Fervor and anger burned on his lips as he nibbled Chris’s, not so gently tugging on the bottom one with his teeth. With both hands clutched on the back of his neck, the bassist pressed himself even closer, rubbing their cocks together over their underwear. It was fucking vicious, intoxicatingly so. The last time he’d seemed more hesitant. But maybe he was just tired of holding back and being the nice guy. He wanted this and was not afraid of claiming it.
Once again, though, even lost in the frenzy of the heavy face-sucking and dry humping going on at the moment, Chris found himself sounding like a broken record in his mind, repeating questions he couldn’t answer.He’s your friend. What the hell are you doing? This is going to fuck it all up. Sex and tight friends don’t do well together… that’s a fucking relationship, and you don’t do relationships. Why does this feel so good, though? Why is the sensation of hard pecs instead of boobs and junk pressed against mine so damn hot? How long has he been wanting to rail me? Wait. Rail me. I can’t.
“Stop it.” Marc pecked him one more time before pulling away.
Chris frowned. “What?”
“I can almost hear the wheels turning in your head. Stop thinking so much.” Gently pressing their foreheads together, Marc’s hands slid towards the side of the guitarist’s neck, and he thumbed his jaw. “Are you sure about this?”
“Yes,” Chris whispered.
Fingers glided down his chest and teased his nipple before continuing their venture and disappearing into his trunks.
“Oh, fuck.”
The guitarist tossed his head back, giving Marc full access to his throat. He kissed, nibbled, and sucked on that sensitive skin as Chris thrust his hips forward, soon abandoning himself to the pleasure.
This hand was rougher than a woman’s, but it still felt like fucking glory. The bassist definitely knew how to keep a perfect cadence and pressure without missing the piercing on the tip of his cock. He kept doing this thing—brushing the ring and making it spin just slightly—that was driving Chris fucking insane. Not to mention the little twist of his wrist.
“Fuck. If you keep that up, I’m gonna come.”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?”
“Y-yeah…” he replied, biting his bottom lip to keep his voice down. “But… fuck. I mean, w-what—” Marc didn’t stop jerking him off, picking up the pace. He was already leaking with pre-cum. So much and so fast it wasn’t even funny. This only happened when he played with himself. “W-what about you?”
There. Fuck.Chris was having a love-hate relationship with the way this man was breaking his brain synapses one by one.
“What about me?” Marc taunted, flashing a smirk that had the guitarist’s balls drawing up so tight they were about to implode.
“I don’t think I’m ready to…” Chris squeezed his eyes shut, half embarrassed, half spinning out of control. Thank God he was backlit by the streetlamps, otherwise the sexual heat that was coloring his cheeks at the moment wouldn’t go unnoticed.What. The. Fuck.
Another guttural moan reverberated in his chest, and into Marc’s mouth as he kissed him.
With a hand gripping the back of his neck again and the other still in his boxers, the bassist twirled his tongue around Chris’s in a ravenous attack that he welcomed as if it were the elixir of immortality.
He had no idea where this was going. If this was just a one-night thing. If they would keep doing it when they were back at home. If what Marc had said about liking him meant he would actually date him. They probably should talk about all that at some point, but honestly, at this moment, he didn’t care about anything other than having this man all over him. From his greedy lips to his warm hands and body. It could be his empowering energy, his dominance seeping through every pore of his skin. The way this felt so liberating. But he was certain that Marc had cast a spell on him.
Then, without warning, all the delicious friction that had his cock twitching disappeared, and Chris was hauled by the neck while Marc continued ravishing every corner of his mouth.
His entire being was palpitating, aching to be touched again. So much that the guitarist felt in and out of his own system, floating like the wax inside a lava lamp. Yeah, that was oddly specific, but he didn’t know how to describe the sensations that had his nerves rupturing and coming back together.
Next thing he knew, he was being manhandled and tossed onto the bed, the mattress slightly bouncing under him until the bassist straddled his lap and reached for the waistband of his boxers.
Chris grabbed his wrists, heart unbridled, echoing through every cell in his body as he stopped him. “Marc, wait,” he pleaded, his friend’s name sounding strangely alluring on his tongue. “I don’t think I’m ready for… you know.”
What in the fucking hell? When have you become such a timid, little shit?
“I’m not gonna fuck you, Chris.”
As the guitarist’s eyes readjusted to the different illumination coming from the night lamps, Marc was just a blurry silhouette hovering above him.
“You’re not?” He sounded disappointed in his mind and the space between them, where the sickening need in his tone lingered for a bit too long.Seriously, who the fuck are you?
Marc chuckled and propped his hands on each side of his head, long, dark hair creating a curtain that separated them from the rest of the world. “Can’t say I’m not dying to ram my dick into that sexy, virgin hole of yours—”
