for @kolbalissh because you have rotted my brain with Wolffstappen (seriously tho a badass ship name) so this if ofc for u hoe
“We cannot do this, Max. This is not right—”
Max doesn’t stop the motion of his hips, the way his ass pushes down onto Toto’s growing arousal. He smiles coyly, free hand working to finish unbuttoning Toto’s shirt.
“It’s not if we can or not, Toto,” Max purrs, deliberate in the inflection of every word, knowing the effect he has on Toto. He holds the power right now, on top of Toto, the older man completely at his mercy. “It’s about if you want to.” Max says, cupping one of Toto’s pecs. His chest is smooth—waxed. The muscle is soft, giving way beneath Max’s grip. “Didn’t you say you wanted me?” Max tilts his head, lips pulling into a slight pout.
Max smiles down at Toto, pleased with himself at how ruined he already looks despite them just getting started.
“Say that again, Toto.” he whispers, right into Toto’s ear, feels the way the man shivers where he’s trapped underneath Max’s thighs and up against the couch.
“What?” Toto says, sounding breathless already. Max lets his weight down fully on Toto’s lap, feeling the way he’s already straining against his slacks, pushing up into the plush of Max’s ass.
Max pulls back to look at him again, heat pooling in his stomach at the way Toto’s face is twisted in some sick amalgamation of desire and hesitance, pupils blown wide.
He wants this. Wants him.
Max smiles, a little mean, flexing his thighs and grinding down on Toto’s erection, relishing in the gasp it wrenches out from Toto’s unwilling lips.
“What you said during dinner. You weren’t lying, were you?”
Toto purses his lips, fear flickering in his eyes, combatting the obvious arousal he feels. His palms are spread on Max’s thighs, fingers long and grip strong, fighting the way Max’s muscles strain against his jeans.
“W-we want you at Mercedes, Max—”
“Ah, no, Toto.” Max interrupts him, palms sliding up Toto’s chest, creeping towards the buttons of his shirt. He smooths out the collar, a needless motion, just to feel the way Toto’s pecs jump under his touch. “Not that.”
Toto visibly swallows, tongue darting out to lick his lips. Max can’t help the wolfish grin from spreading on his face.
“I—I want you, Max.” the words come out a deep rumble, cutting off into a low, throaty groan when Max rewards him with a roll of his hips.
“Mhm…” Max hums his approval, grinning.
His fingers finally find the buttons of Toto’s shirt and he begins to unbutton it, one by one, rutting down on Toto’s cock harder and harder, reveling in the way Toto writhes in pleasure.
Toto’s hand shoots up, gripping Max’s wrist painfully tight, when he gets to the fourth button, the haze of pleasure cut-through by panic.
“We cannot do this, Max. This is not right—”
Max doesn’t stop the motion of his hips, the way his ass pushes down onto Toto’s growing arousal. He smiles coyly, free hand working to finish unbuttoning Toto’s shirt.
“It’s not if we can or not, Toto,” Max purrs, deliberate in the inflection of every word, knowing the effect he has on Toto. He holds the power right now, on top of Toto, the older man completely at his mercy. “It’s about if you want to.” Max says, cupping one of Toto’s pecs. His chest is smooth—waxed. The muscle is soft, giving way beneath Max’s grip. “Didn’t you say you wanted me?” Max tilts his head, lips pulling into a slight pout.
The way Toto curses under his breath says he’s hit the jackpot.
“Fucking hell, Max.” Toto abruptly lets go of Max’s wrist, hand finding purchase on Max’s thigh again, digging into the flesh. If he weren’t still wearing jeans, Max is sure there’d be red marks on his skin.
“Yes?” Max says, affectedly guileless. He stops rolling his hips, lifts up off Toto’s lap, the ghost of his warmth torturing Toto.
Toto’s face twists into a pained look, but Max won’t play into his hand. Max is still the one with leverage here.
“I want you, Max. Please.” Toto chokes out, chest rising and falling with his harsh breaths.
“Then show me.” Max breathes out, leaning close to Toto until there’s only a few centimeters between them, until they’re sharing the same air.
“Shit.” Toto exhales before surging forward, closing the gap and catching Max in a searing kiss.
He can taste the wine they had for dinner; Max didn’t really like it then, but tasting it on Toto’s tongue makes it a lot more palatable.
The kiss is messy in a way Max didn’t expect from Toto, but controlled nonetheless, every touch from Toto’s large hands calculated, experienced. Max moans at a particularly hot swipe of Toto’s tongue against his, his cock twitching painfully in the confines of his jeans. He shoves Toto’s shirt off his shoulders, desperate to feel more skin, burning against his touch.
Toto quickly takes charge of the pace, and Max is too kiss-dumb to fight it. He’s already got Toto where he wants him.
Toto makes swift work of ridding Max of his shirt, hands running up his thighs and clutching the sides of his waist. Max has never felt small before, but the way Toto’s large hands almost seem to meet at the small of Max’s back makes him feel petite.
Max whines, half from how insanely hot that is, the other from how annoyed he is at still being in his too-tight jeans. His hands sneak down Toto’s torso, not forgetting to feel the ridges and valleys of all his muscles—Toto is unfairly fit for his age and that’s driving Max a little insane—and he starts fiddling with Toto’s belt buckle, too consumed in the kiss to pull back and properly take it off.
Eventually, Toto takes mercy and helps Max unbuckle his belt, breaking the kiss with a pained hiss when Max shoves his boxers down and grabs his cock, twitching in Max’s grip. The glide of Max’s palm down his shaft is dry, bordering on painful, but the way Toto throws his head back, neck bared to Max, tells him that he’s definitely into it.
“Fuck, you’re big.” Max says, half absent-mindedly, staring down at Toto’s cock while he strokes him.
Toto’s hands cup Max’s ass, kneading the flesh, thumbs slipping into the hem of his jeans. He tugs them down, leaning in again to burrow his face in the crook of Max’s neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that brand his skin.
Max raises his hips to let Toto yank his jeans down the rest of the way. He can’t help the chuckle that escapes him when Toto jerks back to look at Max with wide eyes upon realizing that Max doesn’t have boxers on.
“You are crazy.” Toto says, and it sounds a lot like reverence, and Max can’t help the way goosebumps break out all over under Toto’s heated gaze.
“I try my best.” Max responds cheekily, the effect lost with how breathless he is.
He feels the air get knocked out of him when Toto finally wraps those long fingers around his cock, hips jerking up against his control. He moans at the friction—moans louder when he feels the way Toto’s cock leaks out precome at the noises he makes.
Toto’s back to working at his neck, nipping at the skin, alternating between filthy kisses that rush straight to Max’s cock and the sharp drag of his teeth. Toto’s stroking him at a medium pace, not slow enough to lose the arousal but not fast enough the way Max is desperate for. Max whines, a little petulant he knows, but he’s too horny to feel any embarrassment.
“Tell me you want me.” Max says, words coming out rushed and a little slurred as Toto nibbles at a particularly sensitive spot on his jaw.
The deep baritone of Toto’s voice vibrates through Max’s very being as he speaks, lips moving against his skin as he says, “I need you, Max. So fucking bad.”
His words are emphasized with a certain flick of his wrist that sends Max keening, back arching and chest pressing into Toto.
“Fuck me. I need you in me, please—” Max begs, voice breaking on the last word.
He lifts his hips again, about to get off to fully take off his jeans but suddenly he’s being lifted up, huge hands bracing the backs of his thighs. He automatically loops his arms around Toto’s neck, shocked and so fucking turned on at the show of strength that he whimpers, looking into Toto’s eyes, the way they’re almost completely black with how blown out his pupils are.
Toto carries him to the bed a few steps away from the couch without much preamble, dropping Max down on the mattress and yanking off his jeans in one sweeping motion. Max arcs off the bed, hips kicking up in desperate need.
Toto kneels on the bed, right between Max’s thighs, gripping them and spreading him wider. The way Toto keeps squeezing his thighs has Max trapping a garbled noise at the back of his throat.
“Lube?” Toto asks, voice a low whisper.
Max manages to crack a grin, spreads his thighs a little wider and flexes them. “No need. Already prepped.”
Toto pauses at that, and Max giggles at how he manages to keep getting that bewildered reaction out of Toto.
“Fucking hell.”
It happens a little fast—Toto kicking off his slacks, the garment landing haphazardly somewhere on the carpeted floor, Toto leaning over Max, palms splayed out right next to his head and bracketing him on the mattress.
The tip of Toto’s cock pushing against his hole and for a split second Max is wondering if he’ll even fit, if he should’ve prepped more, before Toto’s thrusting inside, right up to the hilt, Max’s breath lodging in his throat as his mouth falls open on a wordless scream.
Toto groans, sweat glistening on his skin where he hovers over him, breaths labored as he stays stock still inside Max, letting him adjust to the intrusion.
“You’re—ahh—so fucking big, fuck—” Max groans, hands grabbing onto Toto’s shoulder in a desperate attempt to ground himself.
It’s almost too much as Max feels the way his walls rearrange to fit around Toto, relaxing further with every forced breath. His nails dig into the meat of Toto’s shoulder, eliciting a quiet hiss from the older man.
Toto doesn’t move despite how obviously he’s exerting himself in trying not to, fighting his instincts to thrust into Max, to take without letting Max catch his breath.
It feels like centuries pass before Max mutters out a broken, “Move,” winding his leg around Toto’s back and arching his back a little, feeling the heat of Toto’s chest against his.
Toto does without wasting any more time, pulling out slowly, the both of them groaning at the drag, before thrusting back inside, harder and deeper than before. He sets a brutal pace from the start, now propped up on one elbow while his other hand goes back to Max’s thigh, shifting his leg in a way that changes the angle and—there.
Fuck.
The moan Max lets out is wanton and completely out of his conscious control, stars bursting in his vision. He rakes his fingers down Toto’s back, attempting to pull him closer, cock throbbing where it’s hanging uselessly between their bodies.
“Fuck, Max, you’re so tight.” Toto grits out, teeth clenched as he grinds his hips in a way that presses into Max’s prostate repeatedly.
Max throws his head back, another high-pitched moan ripped out of his very core, the heat coiling up, condensing into something he knows he can’t hold back for long.
“Shit, Toto,” he mewls, eyes stinging with tears he doesn’t have the mind to suppress, “tell me—”
“Need you, Max, want you so bad—shit—you’re so—” Toto beats him to it, bowed over Max, face buried in the crook of Max’s neck as his thrusts grow more erratic, fucking into him harder and harder, jolting Max’s body up the bed with each stroke.
And that’s what pushes Max off the edge, the coil snapping as he comes between them, completely untouched and with a loud cry.
Toto fucks him through it, moaning low against Max’s skin as Max clenches around him, body still shaking from possibly the most intense orgasm of his life.
It isn’t long before Toto’s unloading inside him, hips stuttering through shallow thrusts, fucking his own cum inside Max’s ass, the both of them reduced into panting messes.
They stay like that for a long moment, catching their breaths before Toto pulls back, taking the warmth of his body with him much to Max’s chagrin, and slowly pulls out of Max. Suddenly, Max feels way too empty, weakly clenching around nothing, already missing the fullness of Toto’s cock filling him up.
He whimpers into Toto’s mouth when he catches Max’s lips in a kiss, something a lot gentler and softer than before.
With a grunt, Toto rolls off him and to the side, laying beside him. Max turns towards him, knowing he must look like a mess with dried tear-tracks on his face, flushed to a bright scarlet. Toto smiles at him, something tender, so different from the mood earlier, the hesitance from before gone.
Max’s hand finds its way to Toto’s chest, and he can’t help the way he curls up a little, making himself smaller as he tucks his face below Toto’s chin.
Toto hugs him closer, content to lay there with Max in his warm embrace.
They’ll probably talk about it whether Max likes it or not, but for now Max is content enough knowing that he’s wanted.
A/N
my brain is just wolffstappen brainrot guys idk what happened to me but the moment sumi talked to me about them i've been enlightened and am a changed person fr. forgive the filth. if you enjoyed then comments/likes/shares are appreciated! Tysm to anyone that read this and enjoyed lmao
