Quentin murmured sweet, dirty praise as Joel sucked his cock. Quentin’s hands played absently with Joel’s hair, and Joel looked up with soulful eyes at Quentin as he licked a pearl of precum from the tip of Quentin’s cock.
“So fucking perfect,” Quentin whispered. He pulled Joel to him and kissed him fiercely, biting softly on Joel’s bottom lip. “Get on your back,” he commanded softly.
Joel flipped over onto his back, and Quentin slid a pillow under Joel’s lower back. Joel held his legs back, and Quentin knelt behind him, spreading his ass cheeks and admiring his ass.
Quentin grinned up at him. “Every time,” he said. “It’s pretty every time.”
And then Joel was lost to pleasure as Quentin ate his ass. It was one of Quentin’s specialties, and one of Joel’s favorite things. Quentin always spent plenty of time warming up Joel’s hole. He fucked Joel with his tongue and his fingers, teased Joel’s balls, the sensitive skin of his taint, the tender insides of his thighs. He was attentive and borderline feral. He spat on his fingers and slid two of them into Joel’s hole, and Joel breathed through the stretch, allowing the muscles of his rim to relax around Quentin’s fingers. Quentin added a dab of lube to his fingers and then inserted a third finger. The stretch was tight, an intense pressure that bordered on painful, but it was delicious.
“Fuck,” Joel whispered. “Keep going.”
“Patience.”
Quentin began to fuck him with his fingers, massaging the inside of Joel’s hole, stretching his rim, and flexing his fingers, bending and curling them to stimulate Joel’s prostate. Joel stroked his cock, closing his eyes and enjoying the intense pleasure that filled him.
He sucked in a breath when Quentin added a fourth finger. Quentin didn’t have small hands, and the stretch was intense.
“Too much?” Quentin asked.
“No. It’s a lot, but it’s good.”
Quentin was slow, deliberate, and careful as he used his fingers to fuck Joel’s hole. Joel felt himself relax, welcoming Quentin’s hand. He was ready for Quentin’s cock.
He adjusted his position a bit as Quentin smoothed lube along his large cock, with one of Joel’s legs over his shoulder. He kissed the side of Joel’s foot and then lined his cock up with Joel’s hole. He was slow at first, pushing inside of him, and Joel relaxed to welcome Quentin’s cock.
“Don’t go slow,” Joel begged. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard.”
Quentin plunged into him. Joel cried out at the brief flash of pain, though the pain quickly went away and was replaced by pure, intense pleasure. He felt filled to the brim, ready to overflow, and it was perfect.
Quentin fucked him hard, thrusting into him so hard that their bodies slapped loudly together. He was rough, hot, and dominant, positioning Joel how he wanted him. Joel loved it. He would do whatever Quentin needed and wanted, because that was exactly what he wanted, too. It brought him great pleasure and satisfaction, knowing that he was fulfilling Quentin’s commands, following his rules, meeting his wishes. He lay on his stomach as Quentin lay on top of him, fucking him into the mattress. He knelt on his hands and knees while Quentin pounded into him from behind. He rode Quentin as Quentin hammered into him from below. He bounced with his head tipped back, grunting and gasping and in deep, deep pleasure.
He was almost surprised when he came. It was so sudden, while he was riding Quentin and Quentin thrust so deeply into him that he lost the ability for words, and then he was bursting, cum shooting all over Quentin’s chest, neck, and face. Some got into Quentin’s open mouth, and Quentin grinned devilishly, licking his lips clean.
“Your turn,” he whispered, and hugged Joel tightly to him while he grunted and bred Joel.
When they were done, Joel collapsed next to Quentin. Their torsos were smeared with Joel’s cum, and Quentin’s cum leaked from Joel’s hole.
“I’m a mess,” he said, laughing and gasping for air.
“You’remymess,” Quentin said.
The words hummed in Joel’s mind. He thought about them. He didn’t think Quentin had meant anything by them, aside from a sweet, throwaway comment. But there was a truth to those words. He was Quentin’s mess, in a way, and Quentin was his. The thought frightened Joel, which warmed him at the same time. It was nice, and it was foreign, to think that he belonged with someone, even if that belonging came with no strings attached to it.
They showered together, and Quentin ordered food to the room. Joel would spend the night and leave early in the morning. As they lay in bed together, Joel told Quentin about Ariadne’s upcoming lawsuit. He explained her situation and how Troy Whitman was a piece of scum.
“I hope everything works out for her,” Quentin murmured, playing gently with Joel’s hair.
“I do, too. She’s a good person. I think I might testify, if needed. Whitman has never been my producer, but I’ve interacted with him enough to know that he’s scum.”
“Keep me updated on that,” Quentin said.
Joel promised he would. There were ties between them, now. Though they had no expectations beyond sex, a friendship or a relationship of some sort was building between them. Joel didn’t know what to call it, and he decided not to think about it.
Still, as he drifted off to sleep, curled against Quentin’s side, his thoughts kept returning to dreams of an impossible future, where he and Quentin weren’t confined to secret hotel rooms.
Chapter 18
Quentin
