EXMORTISCORE : Band RPF sideblog, created by ( V â 22, he/ze/it, trans, queer as fuck. ) Additional information below the cut.
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⢠This is an 18+ blog, as I will more than likely post content not suitable for minors. Please do not engage with my content or follow me if you are a minor.
⢠Basic DNI criteria.
⢠This is a blog centered around rpf. I will be writing drabbles, headcanons, oneshots, etc about band members ( primarily mlm ). It is obviously all fiction. If band member x band members makes you uncomfortable, donât interact or follow.
⢠I take requests, however I donât promise that I will get to them very quickly. I will not accept requests that contain the following : x reader, foot fetish, vore, vomit, raceplay, ageplay, scat, and other relating kinks / fetishes. List is subject to change and to be added onto.
⢠Reach out to me if you need to for whatever reason. Whether it be constructive criticism, informing me of something, or just wanting to be friends.
⢠I post all my one shots on Tumblr as well as AO3, under the name anotherrottensinner.
Content Warnings: 18+. Explicit. Size kink/size difference. Anal sex. Anal fingering. References to body weight (positive).
Notes: Request for the bestie, @spiritshousex, I'm just dumb and forgot to post it with the ask.
[ Tag List: @jestersnotebook, @dead-astrid ]
Ricky is unsure of when it started. He knows that itâs fairly recent, maybe a few years since they had been doing this. He was going to say three years, even if it sounded wrong, and Ryan insisted that they used to do this when they were younger and that Ricky just didnât remember. But Ricky thinks that he would have remembered sleeping on top of one of his best friends when he was younger. Although it wouldnât have been entirely weird, considering they used to travel in a shitty van and get cheap motel rooms that they could barely afford. Whatever the case, he wouldnât admit that Ryan might have been right.
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Whatever the case may be, Ricky and Ryan have had an oddly close friendship these past few years. They started to room together, swapping keys with other members of the band if they had to, and utilizing one bed as a place to throw all of their luggage on while the other was occupied by both of them. Ricky enjoyed the closeness. Ryan enjoyed the warmth. They both won that way.
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Over time, it went from friendly cuddling to sometimes one of them taking their clothes off in the middle of the night, then one of them coming to bed with nothing on, before they both started to simply not bother with any sweatpants or loose-fitting shirts at all. It wasnât discussed, even if it should have been. There was never a talk about how this could blur the lines between intimacy and friendship. Ryan just simply woke up one day to a mostly naked Ricky on top of him, snoring into his chest and wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, and that was the start of it all.
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âYou going to hurry up and come to bed?â Ryan asked with a groan as he looked over at Ricky, typing away on his laptop. He was entranced with the screen, and he had been all day, clearly eager to get all of his ideas out of his brain before they flew elsewhere. But Ryan was eager to go to bed, preferably with his friend and super hot band mate on top of him.
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âHm? Oh, yeah, just finishing this.â Ryan rolled his eyes, although he couldnât help but laugh softly. Heâs beginning to think it would be better for him to just pull out his laptop and play some games while he waits for Ricky, although the last time he did that, Ricky ended up whining for him to come to bed as though he was the one waiting in the first place. He thinks that heâs been hanging around Vinny too much, their bratty attitudes rubbing off on one another and making the other worse by the minute.
â
He didnât wait too long, or at least not as long as he had waited in the past for Ricky to âfinish this one thing.â He was just thankful to have Ricky on top of him, stripped down to nothing, their bodies slotting together perfectly.
â
Maybe their friendship was a little odd. It definitely wasnât a standard friendship, but did any of them have a ânormalâ friendship within the band? They invited Vinny to cuddle up sometimes, often waking up with more than just cuddling when he was involved, although they never really spoke about it. And they both knew Justin had some weird sexual tension with ⌠well, probably everybody in the band and crew. So, who could judge them for wanting to cuddle up naked every so often? Besides, they didnât go much further than sloppy handjobs in the morning, when it was just the two of them. Thatâs a normal friend thing to do, right?
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In all honesty, Ricky didnât know what this was. And he knew Ryan didnât know either, because neither of them brought it up nor asked. What he did know was that he liked waking up to Ryan pressed against him, how warm he was, how his arms wrapped tightly around his smaller frame and didnât let go throughout the night. Ricky was a little hooked on the feeling it brought him, even if he couldnât explain it. He simply liked it, waking up to the morning light coming through the hotel window, highlighting the two of them in bed. More importantly, highlighting Ryan and how he looked in the sunlight.
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His fingers gently danced over his cheek, brushing against the facial hair. It scratched at his skin, reminding him of how sometimes he wakes up to Ryan burying his face into his neck, his beard making the sensitive flesh there itch. Thereâs a slow rise and fall of his chest beneath him, and if Ricky holds his breath for a second, he can faintly hear the thump of the other guitaristâs heart. Maybe one day he could press his ear there and listen closer. But for now, he was happy to simply admire the man below him. The line between friendship and intimacy wobbled in his head as his hand slipped down to graze over his chest.
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âAre you going to keep staring at me or are you going back to sleep?â His voice startled Ricky a little, as he hadn't expected him to be awake quite yet. Typically, he always woke up later in the morning and had time to maybe doze off for another hour before Ryan was up, but clearly that wasnât the case this time around.
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âThought maybe Iâd just keep staring at you.â Ricky spoke with a slight chuckle, and it only furthered his amusement when he caught the smile on Ryanâs face.
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While Ricky was more than willing to stare at the man below him, it seemed as though Ryan had different ideas. Putting a hand on the back of his neck, he pulled him down into a kiss. Sleepy and lazy, but still a kiss. Friends could kiss, right? Could friends kiss one another and run their hands all over each other's bodies? That wasnât weird. Ricky was a little distracted, and it was almost like Ryan could tell, his hands slipping down to grab the manâs ass, pulling him quickly back to reality and dragging a soft moan out of his throat.
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âStop thinking so much.â Ryan mumbled against his lips. But Ricky couldnât help it. He couldnât help but wonder why this seemed to only happen in hotel rooms, or why they never spoke about it once it was over. He also couldnât help but wonder how far it would go this time. Grinding? Touching? Maybe Ricky would finally use his mouth, as he had offered some time ago.
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Ricky pushed his ass back against those big hands, feeling his fingers knead in the flesh. Ryan was right. He needed to stop thinking so much. Because right now, in this moment, he felt good and he didnât have to worry about the conversations that would never happen. Right now, he could grind down against the other manâs lap, feel their lengths brush together, and shove his tongue into the manâs mouth. That didnât require any thinking at all. Though he seemed to be pulled away from his pleasure when he felt two thick fingers brush over his entrance, his hips jerking forward with a small gasp.
â
âNo?â Ryan asked softly, looking up at the man. Ricky was no stranger to bottoming; he just never thought that he would be for Ryan. Heâs felt the manâs size and seen it, and he wasnât above admitting that he touched himself once or twice at the thought of it. He was impressively thick, and the idea of that stretching him out made his dick twitch between them.
â
Honestly, if Ryan had asked â and maybe even if he didnât ask â Ricky would gladly worship his dick, whether it be with his tongue or his hands. Part of the reason he enjoyed grinding so much against the man was their difference in size, watching their dicks slide against one another and barely able to even cover the larger manâs. It wasnât like he was super big, as far as length goes, but his girth was intimidating to anybody. Well, intimidating for anyone except maybe Ricky, who practically drooled at the sight of it. Ricky was smaller, though, and maybe that made it seem like Ryan was bigger, since he beat the man in both size factors. He supposed he would find out this morning.
â
âUh. Lube?â Ryan motioned towards his bag on the bed with a tilt of his head. And it was like a switch was flicked in him, scrambling off of Ryan and careful not to accidentally knee him in his efforts to get out of bed, so he could grab his backpack and dig through the pockets. It didnât take very long to find the bottle, pulling out the half-empty tube and tossing it towards the other. He debated for a moment whether he should grab a condom, but he trusted Ryan. If he had any sort of disease, he would have told him. Besides, it wasnât like he slept around, or else Ricky would have heard about that too.
â
The cap was popped open as Ricky situated himself back on top, watching as those thick fingers were coated in lube and the bottle was discarded next to them for now. And they went right back to how they were, those lazy kisses that were a little sloppy with tongue and probably a little too much spit, as Ryanâs hands moved back to where they were. Ricky pushed back, grinding down against his length with a low moan that was muffled by their lips. Two fingers pressed inside of him, causing that uncomfortable stretch and burn that came along with prep.
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Prep had always been Rickyâs least favorite part of bottoming, but right now, it was more than enjoyable. He wasnât sure if it was because he was so focused on the pleasure of grinding against his friend, or it was because he was a little too deep in thought when it came to Ryanâs hands, or maybe he was just that good at fingering him open. Whatever the case, Ricky thinks he could stay like this for hours, simply kissing the other breathless with lazy little rolls of his hips as he was worked open, fingers carefully sliding in and out of him.
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He gave a light nudge to Ryanâs arm, and he was glad the man got the hint, with fingers slowly slipping out of him with a lewd sound to follow. Grabbing the lube that had been discarded, Ricky adjusted the pair as he slicked his hand with the thick substance, reaching behind himself to stroke the other slowly. There was a low groan that came from him, his head pressed back against the pillow and his arms coming up to rest behind his head, after he wiped his lube-covered fingers onto the mattress. Ricky could have stared at him all day. He was thick in all the right ways, and part of him wondered if Ryan would let him grab and massage all over his body, especially his arms and his stomach. Was it strange? Perhaps a little, but it wasnât like he would ever let these things slip out loud, even if it was obvious by the way he was staring. Was he drooling a little? He wouldnât be shocked if he were.
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Ricky remembers when Ryan was, as a lot of fans called both of them, a âtwink.â And he was attractive then; there was no denying or arguing that, but Ricky wouldnât even imagine doing this with him back then. He wasnât his type. If you ask him, the twink death of Ryan Sitkowski was the best goddamn thing to ever happen.
â
âQuit staring, man.â There was a gentle nudge from Ryan, moving his leg up to garner Rickyâs attention, pulling him away from staring at the manâs body. And maybe that was for the best, before he started thinking about his body hair too.
â
âSorry.â Ricky gave a small smile, although all he got in return was an eyeroll. Clearly his apology wasnât believable. Leaning down to capture his lips once more, he lifted his hips up and adjusted sort of awkwardly before he was able to lower back down onto Ryanâs length, feeling it press against his entrance. There was a soft gasp against his lips that had shifted into a moan when Ryan rolled his hips upward, the head of his cock pushing inside from the movement.
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It was sort of a process to get adjusted, and Ricky used a lot more lube than he had anticipated. With little movements, taking an inch at a time and trying to ignore the burn, and practically melting at all the praise in that gruff, sleepy tone, Ricky wasnât sure how long it had taken him to be fully seated on his lap. There was a low moan underneath him, and hands had moved at some point to rest on his thighs, brushing over the pale skin, occasionally grabbing and kneading. And there Ricky was, getting lost in the thought of his hands again, more specifically, how big they looked in comparison to his thighs. His mind felt like it was spinning with too many thoughts at once.
â
He needed to stop thinking.
â
âDoing so good.â Ryan muttered against his lips, moans and gentle growls coming from his throat as Ricky moved at a slow pace, carefully rising his hips up and back down. Their bodies radiated heat, a thin layer of sweat to show that, and Rickyâs hair was a little damp too, with strands falling into his face, only for Ryan to push them back how he liked it.
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Maybe it was because it was so early in the morning or because they both wanted to savor this as much as possible, but they had kept that same pace as long as they could. Rickyâs careful little rocks of his hips, his dick trapped between their stomachs from his current position of leaning down to either kiss the man or simply have their heads pressed together. The contrast of his practically hairless stomach and Ryanâs fur had done a lot more for him than it should have, his dick twitching and leaving a small pool of pre-cum to be smeared between them. Their moans mixed together, often muffled by the otherâs mouth, their heavy breaths meeting and being the only noise in the room, apart from the lewd, wet noises of Ricky slowly fucking himself back onto his bandmate.
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Ricky wasnât sure he wanted this to end. The idea of letting this much pleasure go after dancing around the mere idea of this for so long made him ache. Surely, they would do this again, and he didnât have to worry about going without it. Their next hotel stop, this would happen again, right? He practically whined at the thought of this being only a one-time thing, and he knew it wasnât fair to already start to pout at a scenario that Ryan had no idea was happening in his head.
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âYouâre thinking too much again.â Ryan grumbled, his hips jerking forward, disrupting their careful pace and grabbing Rickyâs attention all over again. He yelped softly at the suddenness of it, looking down at Ryan with a small glare.
â
âCanât help it. Thinking about you and how hot you are, and how I really, really want this to happen again.â He confessed with a gentle whine, although it was unclear if it was because of the shift in his hips or because of the thought of missing out on this. Ryan chuckled at him, whatever the reason.
â
âItâll happen again. Stop worrying so much.â Easier said than done. Ricky was a chronic overthinker and worrier. But his mind was wiped clean once more, with only the focus of the here and now, as Ryan grabbed his hips firmly in order to flip their position and pin the smaller man down to the mattress. Ricky thinks he was half a second away from busting at the ease with which he was flipped around.
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Despite their change in position, their overall pace didnât change too much. Ryan moved slowly still, but it felt as though he had a little more force in his movements, as if trying to get every last inch inside of Ricky and be as deep as he could manage. His arms wrapped around Ryanâs neck loosely, carding fingers through his hair as a tongue invaded his mouth to taste him. He gradually sped up, getting a little faster and keeping a steady rhythm, their noises only getting louder.
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Ricky might be an overthinker, but it was as though Ryan had reached inside him and grabbed his brain just to throw it away, so he could enjoy this without a thought in his head. It was pure pleasure running through him, his noises flowing so freely and his dick aching for release. He could feel himself right on the edge, just barely on the brink of his orgasm, and it was all he could ever want right now. The moment Ryanâs hand wrapped around him, giving him a few strokes to match the pace he had set, he was done. His back arched off the bed as he let out a soft cry of a moan, spilling onto his stomach.
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He saw white for a moment, riding out his high with a few involuntary twitches of his hips. He vaguely remembers the feeling of Ryan twitching inside of him as he gave one last hard thrust, finishing inside of the smaller man with that loud, gruff moan that made his softening dick jerk in response.
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He couldnât help the slight whimper that escaped when he pulled out, nor the grimace on his face when he could feel Ryan dripping out of him. He couldnât recall the last time he allowed a guy to do that to him, and he now remembers why. Ryan only laughed softly, almost breathless, at the look on the guitaristâs face.
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âShould I pull out next time?â He asked as he flopped down onto the bed, immediately wrapping an arm around Ricky to pull him closer, burying his nose into the damp hair. He could feel a few kisses being left behind on top of his head, and it made him feel just a little less gross.
â
âSo, thereâs a next time?â He could practically hear the roll of Ryanâs eyes, not able to see his face from their current position.
I have 5 WIPs going on at the same time and I donât know what I want to finish first. 3 are MIW, so it might be one of them, but theyâre all different pairings.
jestersnotebook here to ask if you'd be able to tag it for your MIW fics? I don't see a place for a taglist signup, so it's cool if you're not up for doing it (or simply don't want to) but I figured I'd ask!
Hi jestersnotebook! I can absolutely tag for MIW fics I post in the future. I honestly never considered doing a tag list, because I didnât know if anyone would be interested in my fics đ
But I will tag you for the next ones to come! Mwah mwah! /p Thank you for reading them :3
Content warnings: References to grief (I donât really go into it, just hint at it); ice cream; scratching; biting; unprotected sex; rimming; anal fingering; dirty talk; referenced masturbation and (kind of) voyeurism/exhibitionism; rough anal sex; knotting.
Summary: A trip out for ice cream and an excessive amount of Axe body spray finally prompts Justin to act on feelings he's been harboring.
Word count: Approx. 5,400 words
Authorâs note: This has been in progress for . . . a while. Major shoutout to @desperatetype for beta reading this grammatically bonkers thing, and I'd also like to thank Dodger for the unending encouragement. I had no idea when I started this that I'd go on this kind of journey, and these guys took me places that I had definitely not expected. In general, I think I did too much lore building for it being a standalone (a different series with werewolf!Justin is in the works, though), but it was fun to write. I hope y'all enjoy! Title from "Wasp" by Motionless In White (no, not "Werewolf"), and the divider's by @/saradika-graphics.
Living with a werewolf was a lot like having a dog â not always, not with every wolf, but definitely with this one specifically. Maybe it was because Justin wasnât bitten; he was born a wolf but oddly socialized. He swore he used to be a normal member of his pack, well-behaved and obedient, but now Justin was . . . well, he was still obedient, at least.
Losing a pack was a traumatic experience. Chris was merely a human, not a werewolf, but he knew that much. Heâd heard stories, seen the effects; rather than become some hollowed-out shell howling at shadows in hopes of hearing a familiar echo, though, Justin seemed to have grown outwards in search of meaning. The face he turned toward the world without the shape his pack provided him to fill was vibrant and colorful.
Shortly after moving in with Chris, an odd string of events that Chris could never relay to someone else in a way that made sense, Justin had asked if Chris could teach him how to do his makeup. âI never got to learn,â Justin explained, looking sheepish â a peculiar expression and demeanor for such a large, bulky frame.
So Chris sat Justin down in fits and bursts: the first time was the longest, Chris doing Justinâs entire face in makeup with input and feedback from the supernatural as they went. Justin had stared for a long minute and then grinned, a slightly unsettling sight with the lipstick stretched too far past his lips, but it had been so endearing. And kind of hot.
Within a few weeks, Justin was doing his own makeup pretty regularly â most of the looks bizarre, far from natural. Some days he couldnât be bothered, of course, but he seemed to be in a better mood while he was done up in pale foundation. He didnât go out in it, but that was because he didnât go out at first. He wouldnât talk about it, always finding something else, anything else to interject with when Chris tried to ease an explanation from him, but it was obviously something that haunted him.
Chris was haunted too, so he didnât press the issue. If Justin didnât demand that Chris bare his own ghosts, Chris wouldnât demand a recounting of skeletons. Heâd let the cobwebs settle if that was what Justin needed.Â
âWe should go out,â Chris said one day, offhanded and casual. They were cooking, Ricky due to come over soon â he had an odd banter with Justin but always somehow ended up perched on his knee, so Chris assumed they liked each other.
Justin glanced over at Chris and blinked at him like the words were impossible to translate into something that made sense. âGo out?â he echoed, and there was that curious little tilt of his head, a puppy dog angle that said Justin wasnât entirely opposed to it, just confused.
A pause as Chris nudged at Justinâs shoulder with his own, a gentle herding out of the way so Chris had access to the pan. It was always convenient that he could angle his body a certain way, move in closer, and Justin would mindlessly drift in whatever direction Chris wanted. âYeah, we could go get ice cream. You always eat all of the pints I bring home.â It was more amusing than anything, because no human could feasibly put away entire tubs of ice cream in an hour the way that Justin could.
Oh, that seemed to get Justinâs interest in full. He perked up, and Chris could almost imagine a tail lifting, wagging without reserve, the same way Justinâs wolf would swing their own when they saw Chris in the woods on a full moon â the only time Justin left the house, though that never felt like a proper trip, given it was from the front door to Chrisâs car, then from Chrisâs car to the woods near his place.Â
âYeah, that sounds good. Iâd be up for it,â Justin agreed with a sort of levity that struck Chris as odd. He had expected resistance disguised as an absentminded detour, not an easy sort of acquiescence; that being said, he certainly wasnât complaining. Ricky had a stubborn streak wide enough to satisfy any yearning Chris might have had for a brat.
Chris took Justin out for ice cream the next day. Justin was quiet the walk there, the time they sat at the booth, and the traipse back home. The door shut and then Justin made a face, shaking out his arms. âI forgot how many things smelled,â he commented, which struck Chris as odd. His house smelled too, but he could have been misunderstanding.Â
âDid something stink?â he asked, toeing off his shoes and watching Justin pause mid-step as he scrambled to get his own off.
Justin shook his head, stopped, then snorted. âI mean, some guy reeked of Axe body spray. That sucked. But there were so many scents that I didnât know. I guess I knew them, I could tell you what they were, they just werenât familiar.â The attempt at the explanation was interrupted mid-sentence at one point, briefly, by Justin flopping on the couch.
Chris made a vague noise of understanding: Justin hadnât left the house much since Chris had brought the shifted and wounded wolf home. In fact, as far as he knew, Justin had only ventured outside of the four walls to shift in the nearby woods once a full moon.Â
âWas it okay otherwise? Besides the smells?â Chris asked, emphasizing the last word in the same manner Justin had. He was pleased that it made Justin snort, always enjoying when he could make the large man laugh â it was such a full sound, teeming with amusement and often joy. It contrasted sharply with the manner in which Justin would shut down, how heâd rarely but markedly withdraw into shadows cast by something Chris couldnât see.
A slow, almost leisurely nod from Justin before his head rolled back to rest against the couch. âYeah, it was okay. The ice cream was banger.â He gave a lopsided grin, then patted the cushion next to him. âI do have a weird favor to ask,â he added, as if most of his requests werenât odd.
Curiosity was what pushed Chris to oblige without an immediate inquiry, settling much less emphatically than Justin. Though similar in height, Justin was thicker, but the disparity in size still didnât quite seem to account for the difference in the manner of their movements. Chris often imagined how Justin might have moved and carried himself when hunting: a contrasting litheness that allowed him to move with subtlety and care, no longer stomping about and seeming to ensure his own safety through heft alone.
Before Chris could ask, Justin was hauling him in by the shoulder and nosing his way into Chrisâs hair. It earned a brief, surprised tensing from Chris, but then he relaxed into it, trusting Justin to remain affectionate despite how bizarre and unexpected such a gesture was. âThe new smells have me feeling weird. Figured something familiar might help.â He burrowed further into Chrisâs strands and inhaled deeply enough for even human ears to catch the sound.
Chris laughed. âYou could have asked,â he remarked, though he notably did not pull away or protest. In fact, a hand landed on Justinâs thigh, perhaps a bit higher on the thick, muscled limb than strictly necessary. He allowed Justin the chance to breathe in his scent uninhibited, tilting his head in bemused compliance when the werewolf nosed lower. A tucking in of his face against the crook of Chrisâs jaw, and Justin seemed to settle there, content.
âI can hear your heartbeat,â Justin announced, breaking the silence that had settled, softly accented by sniffling and the rustling of clothes as they both shifted around to find comfortable positions. âYou have a werewolf right at your throat . . .â He moved then, lips barely brushing against Chrisâs neck, over the ink-adorned skin. â. . . and you sound calm. Relaxed. Like weâre watching a dumb reality show together.â Chris was certain Justin heard the momentary jar in rhythm when teeth grazed flesh, though it certainly wasnât a fear response.
Chris illustrated the effect it had on him by tipping his head and baring his throat further. Perhaps there might have been a risk there, had the wolf been anyone but Justin. Five months couldnât reasonably justify such a deep-rooted trust, but something about the manner in which Justin unfailingly gazed at Chris had settled any reservations only weeks into having his bizarre new housemate.Â
There was a remarkably tinted fondness for Justin, something Chris had hesitated to act on for the ambiguity of its nature. It was a peculiar sort of affection: there was undoubtedly a carnal sort of desire, twisted and hot, but Justin felt more akin to a pet at times than a partner. Perhaps it was cruel and unkind, but Chris was unable to shape it into something more appropriate.
Chrisâs words were soft, and he felt Justin press a faintly-stubbled cheek to the column of his throat as if in search of the vibrations that shook his vocal cords. âI know you wonât hurt me.â The statement came with an unwavering, solid sort of assurance, and he punctuated the confidence by carding fingers through Justinâs hair but allowing him to continue mouthing at his neck.
One of Justinâs hands â a big, occasionally clumsy paw of a thing, all thick fingers and calloused palm â moved to Chrisâs chest and slid down slowly. He kneaded at the hint of softness of Chrisâs lower stomach, above the fabric of his shirt but still remarkably hot upon contact. For all of the remarks Justin offered about feeling cold, the chill that seemed to haunt him despite the reasonable temperature Chris kept his house at, every instance of physical contact had involved surprise at how warm Justin was.
âYeah?â Justin rumbled, and there was a heat to his words now as well. He gave Chrisâs skin firm kisses, a series of them down the length of offered flesh. âYou think youâve got the feral wolf tamed?â Chris found himself moaning softly at the feeling of a tongue dragging up, never one for restraining or concealing his own pleasure.
Chris laughed softly, though the amusement wavered a bit when it left his slightly-parted lips. âFeral, sure. Tamed?â He made a thoughtful noise, turning over the notion in his head. âNot quite yet, but I think itâd be fun to get you there,â he mused, giving Justinâs hair a sharp, short tug â meant to sting, not to dislodge him from his attentive, languid lavishing.
The way they settled into it felt easy and natural, even though theyâd spent the past months merely dancing around the static between them. Justinâs gaze tended to linger for longer than Chrisâs did, and there had been a sort of amusement sparked by it that led to Chris seeing how long it would take for Justin to break. After all, with how insistent Justinâs attention was, Chris was curious when that desire would boil over.
Justinâs hand moved to settle on Chrisâs throat, and Chris started to turn toward the werewolf, but Justin was already there â he kissed Chris a little lopsided, growling low in his throat despite how he almost missed Chrisâs mouth. He pulled back just enough for Chris to properly face him and proceeded to devour him, all lips and tongue and more than a little teeth. He leaned his whole body into it, the hand not settled on Chrisâs neck shoving up under his shirt to paw at bare skin.
Chris found Justinâs appetite sparked his own. There was something about how eagerly Justin took â taking, not asking, not waiting for a wordless agreement, just surging forward and tasting â that made it easy to give in. Despite that, there was no question as to who was in charge; just to prove his point to himself, Chris broke the kiss and exhaled, âStop.â It was barely audible to his own ears, but there was no doubt Justin caught the word.
The response was instant â Justin pulled back, panting softly, and stared at Chris with a hooded, starved gaze. For how his fingers twitched against Chrisâs stomach, he didnât move, just waited. Chris could feel the need buzzing beneath Justinâs skin, but that didnât manifest externally in impatience or frustration. Despite the fact that Chris hadnât tamed Justin yet, the werewolf still heeled beautifully.
âI am not fucking you on the couch,â Chris announced, and that statement did earn a whine â one that quieted the second Chrisâs eyebrows rose. âWeâre going to my bed.â Despite the fact Justin still had a light but steady grip on his throat, Chrisâs voice was unwavering.
There was no hesitation on Justinâs part. He jumped up and tugged Chris with him by both hands in a gesture so innocently eager that Chris laughed. As Justin herded him like a lost sheep into his bedroom, Chris glanced back and smirked. He would have so much fun taking this hulking wolf apart until Justin howled on command, and there was no doubt Justin would come back for seconds.
Despite that lust, tinged at the edges in something almost mean in nature, there was also fondness in Chrisâs chest. It swelled as Justin abandoned Chris to dive into Chrisâs bed, burying his face in Chrisâs blankets to blatantly inhale his scent. Justin continued to nose around and sniff as Chris flicked on the light, only lifting his head and blinking with a faintly puzzled expression when Chris cleared his throat.
âOh,â Justin uttered, sitting up. âWe were gonna fuck.â He sounded like he had genuinely forgotten, had derailed thoroughly once given the opportunity to bury himself in Chrisâs scent, and Chris wondered if it could truly be blamed on the heavy-handed Axe scent from before. Certainly Justin had lingered close before, had lifted his nose slightly in a gesture Chris had no problem deciphering, but it had never been this full-bodied and enthusiastic.
Maybe Justin had harbored greater feelings than Chris had caught hints of.
Chris tilted his head with a challenge to his words. âWould you rather roll around in the sheets? I can go do something else.â As if Chris would be content with leaving this where it was, unresolved and burning in his own gut. As if Chris wasnât determined to have Justin in every way possible, to sate the part of himself that had lingered on thoughts of how the werewolfâs cock would feel fucking him open.
Justin snorted. âYeah, sure. Go fold towels. Iâll just jerk off in your bed.â As if to convey he was joking, he moved forward â clumsy despite his supernatural nature, something Chris found endlessly amusing â and grabbed at Chrisâs sides. A far from gentle tug on Chrisâs hips had Chris falling into the bed, laughing again. Justin didnât hesitate, hands all but yanking at Chrisâs clothes. âI need you naked,â he insisted.
Part of Chris wanted to chastise Justin for his demand, but Chris couldnât deny he also needed them both stripped bare. He wanted his fingers and teeth on the parts of Justin heâd yet to see, desired mapping out those places that made Justin squirm or moan. There was an urge to press at the vulnerable bits, to get this wolf on his back and helpless, just to prove he could.Â
It didnât take much. The undressing part of the endeavor was clumsy and stuttered for how earnest Justin was, the way his hands fumbled and their limbs bumped into each other. Eventually, Chris pushed Justinâs chest until the werewolf laid on his back. âStay,â he ordered. Since Justin was already naked, somehow, all he had to do was stand and finish peeling off his own clothes.
Once Chris stripped, he sat on Justinâs thighs and grinned down at him. It felt like a feral expression, something tilted and toothy, and it matched how he dragged his nails down Justinâs chest. He watched the werewolfâs back arch up into the touch, drinking in the low, rattling groan that emanated from Justinâs bared throat. The lines were bright red and vivid but faded almost instantly, and Chris frowned to himself.
âDo you always heal that fast?â Chris inquired, repeating the motion and watching the same process occur. When Justin nodded, he leaned down to dig his teeth into the strong line of Justinâs shoulder â a hard, deep bite that came without warning. It would have drawn blood if Justin had been human, but now it earned Chris another throaty sound and nails scrabbling at his own hips. He pulled back, caught the shadowed remnants that faded a moment later.Â
Justin shrugged in odd contrast to his sharp, ragged breaths. âIt takes a lot to mark me up. I donât think anyoneâs left something that lasted.â He was clearly lying: there was a scar on his right shoulder, close to the curve where it met his neck, raised tissue in the shape of teeth. Part of Chris wanted to press the issue, and he even brushed his fingers over what had obviously been a bite, but then Justin bristled and he decided to set it aside.
Chris found it far more enticing â and far easier â to introduce himself to Justinâs dick. It was certainly appropriate for the size of the werewolf himself: long and thick, a hefty weight in his hand as he wrapped his fingers around it and gave a few experimental pumps. âYou know, I donât usually choke on dicks,â he mused aloud, absentmindedly, ignoring the way Justin whined in the back of his throat and pressed up into his touch, âbut I think youâd make a mess of me with this one.â
A soft, trembling breath left Justin. âThanks? I think?â he managed. âOr please? Fuck, Chris.â The twist of Chrisâs hand just below the crown had Justin shuddering, eyes scrunched shut against the pleasure Chris could feel thrumming through Justinâs body. His free hand wandered and groped, scratched and clawed despite the futility to it: there was something about the little bit of give above hard, firm muscle that made Chris faintly delirious.
But what a waste itâd be, really, to have such a large cock in his hand and not get fucked stupid by it. Chris released Justinâs dick and stood, laughing openly at how Justin whined and immediately sat up to chase him. He shoved at Justinâs broad chest, hard enough to make his point but nowhere near firmly enough to actually move him, and tried to give a stern look that was completely undermined by how funny he found the predictability of it all. âStay,â he repeated.
Chris took his time getting the condom heâd forgotten earlier. He toyed with it for a moment, glanced back over his shoulder at Justin (who hadnât actually laid back down but had at least stayed where he was on the bed), and held up the shiny foil packaging. âDo you want to use this?â he asked, even though he already knew the answer. At least he could say he checked.
The answer was an emphatic shake of Justinâs head. âNo. Jesus. Youâll smell like me if we donât,â he replied instantly, groaning low in his chest at the very thought of it. He took a breath and shakily added, âUnless you want to.â It clearly killed him, the very thought of conceding that satisfaction, but it was so endearing that Justin pushed through anyways.
A soft snort was the only answer Chris gave. He dropped the condom back in the drawer, shoved it (mostly) shut, and made his way back to the bed. âCatch.â He tossed Justin the bottle of lube and watched him â somehow, potentially impossibly, given what Chris knew about werewolves â fumble it for a solid five seconds before snagging it.
âI didnât know werewolves could be clumsy,â Chris mused, shoving at Justin to get him to move. He supposed it wouldnât have been surprising if Justin was an exception, given how peculiar the man was in general. He stole a kiss that turned into five or six of them and ended up on all fours, then lowered to his elbows to present himself properly.
Justin laughed even as his free hand pawed at Chrisâs ass, big fingers squeezing and kneading with a firm enough grip to make Chris shudder. âIâm fucking huge, Chris. Werewolf or not, I was born to be a big idiot who falls over all the time,â he argued, and he kept talking so casually that Chris actually jolted a bit when he felt Justinâs exhale against his hole.
There was a dusting of stubble on Justinâs cheeks and jaw, and Chris felt it prickle against his own skin as Justin buried his face and lapped at Chrisâs hole â tongue thick and hot, dragging repeatedly and making a mess far faster than should have been possible. Chrisâs breath left him in a sharp exhale when Justin pulled back, but any protest was forgotten when all Justin did was spit and then dive back in.
As much as Chris wanted to indulge in Justin eating him out like a starving wolf tasting tender, raw meat for the first time in months, he also knew that he wanted more. âI want your cock,â Chris managed, and it was meant to be a demand. The attempt at instruction came out far too shaky, though, and sounded a bit like a plea as Justinâs tongue pressed against his rim. âI want your knot.âÂ
That earned a response. Justin pulled away again, thumb replacing his mouth. It slid inside Chris easily, and Justin left it hooked inside him as he spoke. âKnots are actually an urban legend,â he informed Chris, the bed dipping and creaking as Justin shifted his weight around and sidled up closer.
Chris groaned and dropped his head. âAre you shitting me? Itâs notââ Maybe it was greedy of him, to be faced with a cock the size of Justinâs and an undoubtedly earnest fuck ahead of him but still want for more, but Chris had always fantasized about it: some half-feral wolf taking him from behind, popping a knot and breeding him despite how futile it was to pump Chris full.
âOh my god,â Justin interrupted, laughing so hard that it seemed to bounce off the walls. âYouâre really that upset? Youâre so fucking weird, Chris. People have been disgusted by my knot before, and here you are, whining about not getting it. Iâm fucking with you, dude. I am absolutely going to knot you,â he promised, words punctuated by the click of the lube bottle.
It was hard to properly gripe at Justin when he was suddenly pressing two thick fingers inside him. Chris keened and fisted the sheets, bared his teeth in a wordless snarl at how good the burn felt. âIâm a â fuck â a monsterfucker, Justin. You should be able to tell that about me.â He licked his lips between heavy, shaking pants, angling his hips to better present himself.
Justinâs voice was deeper now, a hint of rumble to the words. âI mean, I guess thatâs obvious. Sure as shit know how horny you are.â He worked his fingers haphazardly, pressing them knuckles deep and then withdrawing them just as quickly. There seemed to be more interest in stretching Chris out than taking him apart, but Chrisâs own impatience left him uncomplaining.Â
âI can hear you, you know,â Justin continued. âWhen youâre getting off in your bedroom. I hear your vibe, or the sound your dildo makes as you fuck yourself. You use so much lube, dude, I bet you make a mess. It sounds sloppy. And then there was that time you and Rick hooked up in the bathroom, like I wasnât gonna hear you over the TV. It sounded like you gave some stellar fucking head. Iâm gonna need you to blow me next time, actually.â All of it was said in one steady stream of words, no indication of filter.
It was almost humbling how difficult Chris found it to compose a coherent sentence. Justin certainly wasnât helping his efforts, a third finger slipping in when Chris opened his mouth to reply. A hiss, even as Chris pressed back into the thrust of the digits, and then he managed, âI did it on purpose.â Chris wasnât an idiot, and heâd been far too enticed by the thought of provoking Justin. It was merely a marvel that it had taken this long despite his best efforts.
Another laugh, this one far more akin to a bark than a bellow. âOf course you did,â Justin muttered, as if he truly hadnât realized the intention behind such vocal mischief on Chrisâs part. âWell, youâre getting your way now. Gonna fill you up so fucking full.â In an almost tragic sort of irony, Justin slipped his fingers out and left Chris empty and wanting, clenching around nothing and biting back a pathetic whimper.
Chris wasnât going to grovel for the pet he was teaching to beg.
Justin muttered to himself, something about goth guys and cute asses and dimples (where was Justin seeing a dimple?), and grasped at Chrisâs hip. He squeezed tight enough to draw a low moan from Chris, and then the head of his cock was teasing at Chrisâs entrance and prompting a much louder and far more enthusiastic sound from Chris.
There was no need to encourage Justin, to demand more: Justin merely snagged Chrisâs other hip in hand as the crown of his dick slipped past Chrisâs rim, and then he was fucking forward in one smooth, aggressive thrust. It was so sharp and sudden and forceful that Chris gave some wordless exclamation; he very nearly fell on his face, and he took a moment to catch his breath when Justin went utterly still.
âDid I hurt you?â Justin asked, concern audible in his voice. He had even stopped his incessant, mindless kneading at Chrisâs waist, every part of him taut with nerves.
Chris tried to laugh, but the sound that came out was far too breathless and thready. It sounded more like a wheeze, which certainly wasnât comforting, but then he shook his head. âNo, you didnât hurt me. Just startled me. Most guys work up to pounding me into the mattress,â he said, glancing back over his tattooed shoulder and flashing Justin a grin.
Whatever Justin saw in Chrisâs gaze seemed to settle his nerves and offered enough reassurance for Justin to grin back, wide and lopsided and with a hint of tongue poking out. He always looked like a dog convinced he was about to be given tummy rubs when he grinned like that, as if his treat was secured. âItâs a werewolf thing.â His tone made it impossible to tell if he was full of shit (again) or speaking factually â not that Chris found any genuine interest in the answer.
He simply let himself go loose and lax, bracing himself a bit better for the harsh rhythm Justin set. Sounds spilled from his lips freely, mingling in the air with the throaty snarls and soft growls that Justin uttered openly. Chris swore he heard the snap of teeth next to his ear as Justin draped himself over Chrisâs back, hands moving to the mattress on either side to brace himself.
Justin nosed against Chrisâs neck again, seemingly oblivious to the sweat that had strands of hair sticking to flushed skin. He inhaled and then rumbled with blatant pleasure, hips stuttering and then finally adjusting their angle â Chris shuddered violently when he hit his prostate, Justinâs name leaving his lips shakily.
âJustin, Justin, Justin,â Chris panted, encouragement he offered freely. He couldnât reach to get a hand on his cock despite how he leaked and throbbed; he needed to plant his hands to not be shoved up against the headboard, and he wondered if Justin would have it in him to finish Chris while they waited for his knot to recede.
But then Chris felt that swell start, the faint catch at his rim, and his eyes rolled back in his head the first time Justinâs rhythm faltered with the effort it took to keep fucking him with long, deep thrusts. âGonna fuckinâ fill you up,â Justin snarled as the knot caught and stuck, leaving him to just rut up into Chris frantically. It was a wet, desperate affair, and Chris was startled to find it enough to tip him over the edge.
Justinâs knot was so much bigger than heâd expected. It swelled to the point Chris ached, and it was that faint twinge of pain that made him spill. He clenched down around Justin, groaning loudly, and tried to rock back as best he could to encourage Justin to keep moving. The pleasure that thrummed in Chrisâs gut seemed to pulse with Justinâs cock as the werewolf came; his seed was even hotter than the skin pressed flush to his back, the breath against his ear, and Chrisâs vision blurred.
By the time Chris could breathe past the sensation of being filled so completely, Justin had collapsed on top of him â pinning him to the bed, flat on his stomach, the weight on Chrisâs back solid and hefty enough to make breaths challenging to draw in. A few complaints and gentle elbows later, and Justin twisted them onto their sides.
Chris knew that knotting was an intimate affair. Aside from the act itself, the swelling took time to come down; they would be locked together for a notable amount of time, inevitable and not undesired, but he hadnât quite envisioned it playing out like this. Rather than Justin dozing off against his shoulder or them exchanging soft, murmured check-ins like heâd expected, Justin was seemingly wide awake and intent on sniffing Chris until they could separate.
âI promise my scentâs not going to change,â Chris laughed breathlessly, closing his eyes. Despite the sounds in his ear and the way Justin occasionally flicked his tongue over Chrisâs skin, he was comfortable. He sank back against Justinâs chest and allowed his limbs to relax. âYou canât actually breed me.â The reminder felt unnecessary, but he still uttered it, primarily to tease.
The noise Justin made suggested that it wasnât an appreciated remark. âYouâre gonna smell like me for a while,â he argued. âAny other wolfâs gonna know I fucked you.â He pressed a grin into Chrisâs shoulder then, fingers tracing idle, meaningless shapes against the skin of Chrisâs stomach.Â
That raised a question, one that Chris had to examine and evaluate for a moment before vocalizing. âDo you want this to mean something other than us fucking?â he asked, each word followed neatly by the next. It was a calculated inquiry but a risk nonetheless â the last thing he wanted was for awkwardness to chill the room as they remained pressed flush for the next ten minutes.
Justin made a vague, noncommittal sound and gnawed on Chrisâs shoulder. There wasnât nearly enough pressure behind his teeth to break skin, and it seemed to be a mindless, idle gesture. âWant people to know weâre pack,â he muttered, as if the words left a bitter taste on his tongue. It was an odd sort of response â Justin hadnât been required to offer honesty. He could have always avoided answering, or he could have given some half-truth or obscure, meaningless response that said nothing at all.
More than that, the notion of pack settled funny in Chrisâs chest. It wasnât a lack of desire for connection, but Justin had just skirted the concept so completely and insistently that Chris hadnât anticipated it being an option for them, unconventional as it was to begin with. âWeâre pack?â he echoed, rather than pursue any other line of thought.
Chris felt a soft hum against his back as Justinâs grip tightened, pulling him flush against his chest. âWeâre pack,â Justin affirmed, as if that settled the entire debate.
Perhaps Chris should have protested. Such a declaration was heavy and important, meaningful in a way a human could never truly comprehend; certainly it warranted a discussion, not just a fuck and a decision on a hormone-drunk werewolfâs part. But it also felt right, and it settled onto Chrisâs shoulders with a weight more comforting than drowning. âAm I the alpha?â he murmured, setting aside practical concerns for another time.
Justin snorted softly as he rocked his hips a little, earning himself a slap on the side. âOf course you are.â
Tag list: @ami-gami, @ladyveronikawrites, @desperatetype, @damaskexe
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Content Warnings: 18+, explicit, somnophilia, trans man!Vinny, oral
Vinny goes to bed way too late sometimes. He gets distracted with gaming, with editing a new video, with being on call with his friends, and he rolls into bed at a stupid hour of the night, after Justin has already gone to sleep. His head usually hits the pillow and heâs out like a light, all snuggled up next to his giant of a boyfriend.
Sometimes Justin hates that Vinny gets so distracted and invested in holding up in that room of his all day. And sometimes, Justin realizes that he can simply make it up to himself the next morning by diving underneath the covers, to get in between a sleeping drummerâs legs.
He can simply spread open Vinnyâs thighs, reveal his âpretty cuntâ â Justinâs words, not Vinnyâs â to him while he listens to those quiet little snores. And he can just as easily run his tongue over his hole and his dick, before wrapping his lips around it to gently suck and lap at. He loves to make Vinny squirm and whine, even while heâs sleeping. He loves to dip his fingers inside of him, feel how wet he is, and devour him.
âGood morning to you too,â is what comes out of Vinnyâs mouth, all sleepy and groggy, but Justin doesnât stop. Or at least, not until the drummerâs perfect arch is on display, a cry of a moan is let out, and Justin has the taste of Vinny all over his face.
Hello, yes, Jester here! (My fanfic blog is a sideblog, so the person who just followed you right before this ask came in was meeeeeeee.) I need you to know that I gobble!! up!! trans man!Vinny content. I only have two fics with him in it at the moment, and I think that's a damn shame. I also just gave myself a fic idea. Anyways. Locking in. Thank you for that ABSOLUTE FEAST!! We love a horny lil trans guy jerking it to his dork best friend.
Raaah Iâm so glad you liked it!! Trans man!Vinny will forever consume me and I canât wait to write more for him (so many drafts, so little time). Thank you for reading and enjoying my little fic :3
Content Warnings: 18+. Explicit. Trans man Vinny, with masculine terms used for genitalia. Size kink. Hand kink. Brief mention of daddy kink. Masturbation / vaginal fingering. Squirting. Mentions / fantasies of: vaginal sex, oral sex, creampie.
(Not really a ship fic. Pretty much just Vinny jerking it to the thought of his friend fucking him.)
Vinny canât help that his mind wanders. That his brain jumps from one subject to another, from how he misses home, to the show they played, to the video games he could be playing, to Justin. He canât help it. He also canât help that the thought of Justin lingers a little longer than it should have.
Heâs not sure when he started thinking of Justin like this. He just knows that one night, in the middle of taking care of himself, Justin popped into his head. That damned bassist seemed to always be in the corner of his mind and he really, really tried to find a reason why, or at least a when, but he came up with nothing every single time. Maybe it was because Justin occasionally came up behind him, wrapped his arms around the drummer, and put his head on top of his, usually to be touchy and annoying, but all it did was highlight their size difference and how big Justin was. Or maybe it was the way those big hands pat his shoulders, sometimes resting on his lower back too. Vinny could only guess.
Maybe it was weird. Maybe it was kind of gross. Maybe Vinny shouldnât have taken the opportunity of being alone to slide into his bunk with the intention of jerking off to the thought of his friend. But with the crew exploring the city, and Vinny being the only one who didnât tag along, what else was he going to do?
Closing the curtain of his bunk for good measure, the drummer wasted almost no time in shoving down his shorts and boxers to kick aside, shuddering at the way the fabric stuck to him for a second. He was formerly sitting on the couch in the front of the bus, squirming and trying to ignore how turned on he had gotten at a few stray thoughts about the bassist. So, if he could get his slick covered boxers off, he would gladly do so.
Vinny could try to blame it on the fact that he was pent up or maybe the fact that he had just done his testosterone shot this morning. But he would only be lying to himself, and really, what good would that do other than make him feel better for a second or two? So, screw the excuses. He could think of those later. For now, he could let his mind wander.
Pale fingers dragged over his stomach as his eyes closed, letting out a slow breath as he tried to imagine what Justinâs hands would feel like over his skin. He brushed past the happy trail and a little further down, fingers gliding through the short patch of hair, before his hand trailed back up and not allowing himself the chance to touch just yet. He could feel his dick twitch, aching for any sort of pleasure.
His other hand threaded through his hair, pushing it out of his face and simply giving him something to do with his empty hand, although he desperately wished it were Justinâs hair that he was pulling and tugging on right now. Maybe even pulling it to drag Justin down into a kiss. He wonders if heâs a rough kisser, if his lips would be red and swollen by the time they were done, or if he would be gentle with him. Vinny hopes heâs not gentle. He would love for Justin to shove his tongue into his mouth, to taste him, to practically devour him. He twitches again at the thought.
As much as he would love to take things slow with himself and really enjoy his time alone, he knows itâs limited. That hand glides down his body again, dipping down until the pads of his middle and ring fingers press against his dick, rubbing in slow circles and drawing a moan out of him. He knows Justinâs fingers are calloused from the strings of his bass, and he knows how deliciously rough it would feel. He presses down a little rougher, dragging those moans and heavy breaths out of himself, his chest slow to rise and drop.
He canât stop thinking of all the different things he would want from the man. His mind jumps from one idea to another. How his fingers would feel, how his tongue would feel, maybe even the feeling of his dick between his folds with needy grinding and combined moans.
A whine pulls from his throat, his hips bucking up slightly towards the friction. Heâs desperate for more, almost as if heâs begging the man who isnât even here to give him what he wants. His fingers dip down, two sliding inside so easily that a full-body shudder runs through him. His fingers are instantly covered in a thick slick, making his slow movements easier as he adjusts and finds the right angle to curl the digits. Itâs an attempt to get as deep as he can, though he knows he canât do it very well himself. At least, not in this small bunk or not without someone else to do it for him.
He canât help the shaky moan that escapes at the thought of Justinâs hands again. How thick his fingers are and how he was sure that two of his fingers would be the equivalent of three of his own. He just knows he would feel so full and satisfied, and Justin would be able to thrust and move his fingers perfectly inside of him. A third finger pushes inside, a sharp gasp coming from him. The third makes it even more difficult to move, but for the sake of his fantasy, he doesnât change anything. He continues the limited motion that he can do, his hips thrusting upward to assist as much as possible. The angle of his hips makes it a little easier, at least.
âJustin,â Vinny whines, gripping his hair a little tighter. He wonders if Justin has a thing for being called daddy. If the name would make him go faster or fuck him harder. His brain is between scenarios. Both the idea of Justin fingering him until his brain is numb and his bedsheets are soaked, and the idea of him railing him into the mattress with those big hands gripping his thighs as an anchor, the two constantly trading back and forth. Vinny canât decide which is hotter.
He feels himself flutter as his fingertips brush against his g-spot, and despite the moan it causes, he tries to avoid it. Vinny likes the little scenarios in his head and he wants to keep going, just for a little longer, enveloping himself in lust. He adjusts again, finding a better angle and continuing the slow thrust of his fingers.
In the end, the scenario Vinny lands on focusing on the most is how full he would feel with Justinâs dick in him. Heâs seen it before, albeit briefly and while soft, but he certainly didnât look small. Heâs almost positive that it would fill him out so nicely, that the stretch he would feel would cause his eyes to roll back. Vinny wishes he brought a toy or something, maybe find a way to suction one of his dildos to the bunk wall and fuck himself back onto it while he let his mind run wild. Or maybe he just wishes he had Justinâs massive cock in him, and he wouldnât have to use his fingers or a toy.
He groaned, frustrated and pent up, as his fingers moved faster. His hand finally let go of the two-toned locks, moving down to rub his dick and hopefully finish sooner rather than later. He felt as though he didnât have much time left until someone would be back, and he really didnât want to put off his orgasm until the next hotel stop or even risk finishing with someone on the bus.
Vinny always did get a little carried away though. With a lust-filled head, no longer thinking rationally and only about Justinâs fingers digging into his thighs while he thrusted into him, hard and heavy, Vinny was desperate to get off.
Slipping the third finger out to move a little faster, he angled his hips upward and spread his legs a little further, his thighs beginning to shake. His blunt fingers pressed against that spot that he needed so desperately, while the touches to his dick got a little more sloppy from the frantic little motions. He panted, moans and gasps slipping past occasionally, not to mention the whines of Justinâs name that came out with his noises. Vinny was thankful nobody was back yet, because if the moans didnât give him away, the wet noise of his fingers moving in and out of him would have in a heartbeat.
âFuck, Justin. Baby, faster.â Vinny moaned out for the man who was only here in his mind, behind closed eyes. He could imagine their hips meeting, his thrusts getting more frantic and sloppy, his dick pulling out almost fully before pushing right back inside of him at a brutal pace. His body felt hot, that buildup making the depths of his stomach almost ache with his high around the corner.
Vinnyâs mind got lost for a moment, his back arching as he cried out, fluids gushing onto the mattress and over his hands as his thighs trembled from the intensity of his orgasm. Throughout it, even then all he could think of was how it would feel to tense and cum all over Justinâs dick, or even the feeling of Justin spilling inside of him.
He isnât sure how long he laid in his bunk, catching his breath as he slowly slipped his fingers out of himself with a soft hiss. He suddenly became too aware of the cool air against his skin or how rapidly the sheets would get cold from his own fluids around him. He would have to clean up, soon and quickly. Even if his body felt heavy and he didnât particularly want to move right now.
âVin! I brought you back some Thai food!â
So much for not moving. He just had to really, really hope that he could get away with cleaning up his bunk later.
