Marc just chuckled, the soft rumbling sound coming out choppy in between pants and chest groans. “Keep going…” he breathed out. “I want you to fuck me like there’s no tomorrow.”
Something inside Chris twisted, bounced, and fucking somersaulted. The way those words filtered through the ridges of his brain and cradled it swamped him in the most delicious and ground-shaking pleasure.
Without restraint, he pushed his pelvis forward, shoving himself fully into Marc.
“Oh fuck!” Chris closed his eyes as he reveled in the strangling sensation that had his dick leaking with the first wave of what he anticipated would be the motherfucking king of orgasms. “Fuck… fuck…” He readjusted his position, propping on his elbows and dropping his forehead onto Marc’s shoulder.
He had fornicated like a monkey in heat before. Seriously, he had. Pussy, tits, and ass. Never been picky, and never in his entire life had he run out of words. But this was different. Mind-boggling. Maybe it was the fact that, unlike most of his previous hookups, he knew Marc was as dominant as him. That if he wanted, he could overpower him because, in all honesty, he was physically stronger. And still… Still, he was here, underneath him, letting out those deep, gritty moans.
Chris drew his hips back, then forward, repeating the motion at a tantalizing pace as he kissed and gently bit the bassist’s shoulder.
“Fuck,” Marc muttered. “It’s been so long—Fuck, just like that… yes. So fucking good.”
“There?” Chris asked as he replicated his movement that had the bassist choking on his own words. Out, in, and slightly grinding upward while squeezing his asscheeks together.
“Fuck, yes!” Marc squirmed. “No wonder every woman you’ve screwed gets so damn clingy.” He moaned, fists clenching on the pillow. “Keep fucking me like that… and I’ll be done in two minutes.”
Chris let go of his buttocks and halted for a second, slowly drawing circles with his pelvis. “I bet I can bring that down to one minute.”
“Oh, yeah?” Marc flashed him a daring smirk. “Show me.”
Done with being nice, with the warmups, and with the insecurities eating at him from within, Chris raised again and rode his hole like a fucking maniac. Aiming for his prostate the best he could, he fed on the obscene sounds they were making and the friction disarming him with every thrust. His palms wandered over Marc’s back, the defined muscles flexing and tensing with every hard pound before he gripped his waist, taking in the perfection of his body.
It was manly yet delicate. Toned but not in a bigorexic way. Almost untouched skin—compared to Chris—with tattoos in all the perfect places to kiss. And that cock…
“Okay, Schmidt.” Marc changed the angle of penetration as he tilted his ass up a little. “Slow down or I’m seriously gonna come again.”
“Yeah?” Chris grinned without stopping ramming into him. Not too fast. Not too slow. Just the perfect medium rare speed that had them panting with an excruciating need to release. “I’d love to see that while I fill you up with my cum.”
“Fuuuck…” Marc reached back and latched a hand on the guitarist’s ass.
“What?” he asked while parting his asscheeks and gawking at the spot where they were connected again.So damn hot.
“That shit is hot as hell.”
“You like the dirty talk, huh?” Chris perched on his palms on either side of Marc and bent down. “I have everything and more for you,” he rasped after tugging on the bassist’s earlobe with his teeth. “Just keep making those noises you’re making and milk my dick with this tight hole of yours.”
Marc grunted but didn’t say a comprehensible word as his fingers dug into Chris’s flesh, which he took as a cue to finish him.
For a moment, as he got lost in his frenzy and their moans, with the sound of skin slapping on skin, and the headboard hitting the wall repeatedly, the brightest light flashed in his retinas.
Chris lapsed into a delirium. A place between conscious and unconscious. A place where everything he’d experienced before felt like a fucking lie. A place where freedom was real. Because here, in the safety of Marc’s room and his presence, there was nothing to fear. Nothing to be ashamed of. What if they were having sex? What if they were high on each other? Woman, man, or alien, this still was one of the most pleasurable and natural things in the world.
Reproduction and sexual intercourse could be understood as the same thing, and for that, biologically, you would need the male and the female of the species to interact. But they could also be completely unrelated.
Sex is not always a means to an end. It sometimes is the means and the end in the search for that physical and mental connection a lot of living organisms crave just for the sake of it. In this scenario, heterosexual, homosexual, and even group intercourse should be considered as something equally natural. In the end, the heteronormativity branded in our brains is nothing more than a culture, a system of beliefs, norms, and practices that rule our lives and make us feel different when we don’t belong in that narrow block of identity.
And fuck, if this man unraveling into his ecstasy wasn’t the most unhinged and beautifully obscene experience, he didn’t know what was.
“I'm gonna come…” Marc slipped his free hand underneath him and began jerking himself. “Yes, yes… Fuck, right there. Keep going and fill me with every fucking drop.”
Chris gritted his teeth without stopping, balls tensing up as he fucked the two of them through this spectacularly obscure, lustful mayhem. He had no idea what was going on or why his body was reacting to this man in ways it had never done with anyone else. Why his friend’s gravelly moans mingled with his own, which had him on the defensive before, were making the blood boil in his veins.
Panting like a ravenous animal, the guitarist fisted Marc’s hair on his scalp and pulled his head back as he lowered his body over his. The temperature soared and their ragged breaths became one.
“Come for me,” he growled.
With that, the bassist’s ass started pulsing and clamping around his dick. With so much force, Chris blacked out as he shot his load inside of him.
