Quentin let out a moan that sounded almost like a growl, and freed his cock from his underwear. Joel sucked in a breath. Quentin’s cock was long and thick. He was uncut and had heavy balls and a thick, dark bush. Joel wanted to bury his face in the bush, smell Quentin’s musky scent, and now he realized that he could. Every fantasy he’d kept of Quentin and his body, visiting them in the dark secrecy of night, could be lived out. He wrapped his fingers around the base of Quentin’s cock and began to stroke gently.
“Fuck, Joel,” Quentin murmured, biting his lip and looking down at him. Joel smiled up at him.
“You like that?” he whispered.
“I like how you look with my cock in your face,” Quentin said.
In answer, Joel licked the head of Quentin’s cock, tasting the precum that dripped from Quentin’s slit. It was salty and perfect. He wanted it all. He swirled his tongue around the head of Quentin’s cock, while stroking the base with his hands. He would take his time, he decided. He wouldn’t rush this. He had waited so long to do this, and he didn’t want to miss a single moment. He wanted to savor every part of Quentin, to worship him with his mouth.
Quentin wasn’t prepared for the electrifying pleasure he felt when Joel took the head of his cock in his mouth. Joel’s mouth was hot and wet, and he never broke eye contact with Quentin as he began to suck Quentin off. In one hand, he cupped Quentin’s balls, massaging and fondling them, while with the other, he stroked the base of Quentin’s cock. Quentin tried to steady his breathing as Joel took more and more of him into his mouth, bobbing and sucking.
He wanted to fuck Joel’s throat, to fill Joel’s mouth with his cum, but he didn’t want this to be over. He wanted it to last forever, and so he wasn’t going to rush anything about their hookup. If it could only happen this one time, he would make it count.
Sucking Quentin’s cock was the perfect experience. His cock was so big that it filled Joel’s mouth, and Joel had barely half of it in his mouth before it hit the back of his throat. He wouldn’t let himself stop there and took as much of Quentin’s cock into his throat as he could bear, damning whatever his vocal coaches would say to him.
When Quentin started to thrust slowly into Joel’s mouth, Joel moaned around Quentin’s cock.
“Good,” Quentin whispered, running his hands through Joel’s hair. “You’re taking it so well. You’re so good at this.”
The praise made Joel even more aroused. He forced Quentin’s pants further down his thighs so that he could grip Quentin’s muscular ass, pushing Quentin’s cock deeper into his throat until he nearly choked on it.
Only when he was gagging on Quentin’s thick member did Quentin pull it out. A string of saliva connected Joel’s lips to the glistening head of Quentin’s cock. Joel was sweating, gasping, ready to come undone. Quentin loomed over him, gripping his cock, breathing heavily.
“Fuck,” Joel gasped. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was one of the most talented songwriters of his generation, and words had failed him. He kissed Quentin’s thigh, the inside of his leg, and his balls. He wanted it all. He wanted Quentin to be buried inside of him, fucking him until he screamed. He wanted Quentin to rewrite his world with each thrust, to make him see stars and speak in tongues and compose symphonies.
Quentin pulled him up to his feet. “I want to taste myself on you,” he said hoarsely, and then he kissed Joel deeply, almost aggressively. Their kisses were a battle for dominance and submission, Quentin stronger, rougher, and Joel more passionate and longing.
“Take this thing off,” Quentin said, gripping the edges of Joel’s outfit.
It was a complex costume, with lots of parts, and it had taken three assistants to get Joel into it. He was out of it in four seconds and was standing almost naked in front of Quentin, except for his white briefs.
Quentin let himself stare at Joel’s body. Though he had technically seen Joel in almost the same state of undress onstage, when Joel had worn a tiny, sparkling pair of shorts while performing, this was different. There was an intimacy in seeing someone in only their underwear, and Joel looked both beautiful and vulnerable standing before Quentin like that.
Joel was lean but muscular, with tan skin and smooth muscles. His body was coated in sweat, gleaming in the dim lights of his apartment. His briefs rode low on his hips, and his cock strained to be free of them, pushing out in an impressive tent.
Quentin drank in the sight of him, with his rippling abs, his perfect V-line, his delicate, happy trail. His legs were long and well-formed, with short golden hair on his calves and smooth thighs. His feet were almost dainty, smaller than Quentin’s. Quentin wanted to taste every part of him. He wanted to spill his cum on Joel’s abs and lick it up. He wanted to bury his tongue in Joel’s hole and eat his ass. He wanted to suck his balls and his cock, kiss his thighs, and worship his feet. He wantedeverything.
“Where’s your bed?” Quentin asked. He needed Joel on his bed. He needed to take off those beautiful white briefs and worship Joel’s cock. He needed to flip Joel over beneath him and devour his ass, and then push inside him and fuck him.
“This way,” Joel said. He turned to lead Quentin there, but Quentin seized his wrist, pulled Joel back to him, and kissed him deeply. He was still kissing him when he lifted him up. Joel gasped and then wrapped his legs around Quentin’s waist and his arms around Quentin’s neck as Quentin carried him to the bedroom.
Quentin was still wearing far too many clothes, in Joel’s opinion, with his shirt still on his body and his pants around his thighs. But there was something so deeply erotic about being carried. Joel was encased in the firm muscles of Quentin’s arms and chest. He felt safe and secure there. Quentin was very strong, and Joel didn’t even think for a moment that Quentin would drop him. He felt the thick hardness of Quentin’s cock press against his ass, and it was enough to make his own cock ache for release.
They reached his bedroom, and Quentin lay him down on the bed. Joel watched as Quentin, looming over him, pulled off his shirt.
His body was beautiful, firm and muscular, with broad shoulders and a broad chest, thick abs and a narrow waist. His biceps flexed like boulders as he tossed his shirt aside and worked his pants all the way off. His cock stuck out, hard and thick, and Joel reached for it, taking the throbbing member in his hands and stroking it like it would give him life.
“Good,” Quentin breathed, “just like that.”
He climbed onto the bed, spread Joel’s legs, and bent over to kiss the inside of his thigh. Quentin’s lips were warm and ticklish against Joel’s sensitive skin, and he fought to make sure he didn’t squirm on the bed.
“Fuck, Quentin,” he gasped, as Quentin kissed up his thigh to the edge of his underwear.
“These seem to be a problem,” Quentin said.
“Take them off,” Joel pleaded.
“Patience,” Quentin said.
