Joey woke up hungry.
Not the soft, lazy kind of morning hunger, but something sharp and greedy. His cock was already thick against his thigh, hard the way it got when he hadn’t touched himself in days, but he had touched himself. He’d come inside Justin last night. More than once. Had watched the red thong ride up and stretch and disappear between the softness of his ass, had called him muscle princess and meant it.
And now he was hard again. Already leaking.
Justin was next to him on his stomach, legs loose, one knee bent up just slightly. The thong was still on—twisted from sleep, clinging where it shouldn’t, half-transparent with sweat and cum and time. His back rose and fell in steady waves. He looked completely relaxed. Taken care of. Still fucking hot.
Joey reached out and touched the back of his thigh. Justin didn’t move for a second. Then: “You’re staring again.”
Joey smiled. “I’m plotting again.”
Justin stretched slightly, the thong shifting, revealing more. “Lemme guess. Prince awakens.”
Joey rolled onto his side, hard cock nudging between Justin’s thighs. “Don’t act like you didn’t love that.”
Justin half-opened one eye, smirked. “I do. It’s fucking stupid.”
“It’s hot.”
“It’s so hot.”
Joey kissed the back of his neck. “Penis prince needs to fuck.”
Justin didn’t hesitate. Just reached back and pulled the thong aside.
“Feed the princess,” he said, voice still sleep-rough, and not even trying to hide how into it he was.
Joey moved over him, one knee between his legs, his cock already nudging against that warm, soft hole. He spit in his hand, stroked himself once, twice, then guided the head down and in.
Justin moaned as Joey slid inside, slow, deliberate, but deep. The stretch was easier now, slick and familiar, but no less intense. Justin’s thighs twitched. His hands gripped the pillow.
“God,” Joey breathed. “You take me like you were made for it.”
Justin hummed, low and lazy. “Maybe I was.”
Joey pushed in the rest of the way, hips flush with Justin’s ass, his cock buried deep in that wet, twitching pussy.
He didn’t start fast. Long, deliberate strokes, in and out, like he was reminding Justin’s body who he was. The sound of it was already obscene—slick and real and full. Justin was panting softly, his thighs spreading wider as he rocked back into it.
“You’re different today,” Justin said, voice tight.
Joey leaned over him, hands braced on either side. “You opened me up.”
Thrust.
“Now I’m gonna show you—”
Thrust.
“—how I fuck.”
Justin groaned, the sound swallowed by the pillow.
Joey grinned. “Say it.”
“Say what?”
Joey pulled out almost completely, then shoved back in, slow and thick.
“Say you’re my muscle princess.”
Justin choked on a laugh, but it broke into a moan. “Broooo-”
“Say it.”
Joey reached under him, palmed his chest, tweaked his sensitive nipples, felt the twitch of his muscles under sweat-damp skin.
Justin gasped. “I’m your muscle princess.”
Joey fucked deeper.
Justin was soaked inside, everything slick and eager. Joey’s cock slid in and out with rhythm now, hips slapping against his ass, hands locked tight around his waist.
“You’re strong,” Joey growled. “You’re jacked. And you’re wrapped around my dick like you need it.”
Justin laughed again, breathless.
“Tell me what I am.”
“My penis prince,” Justin moaned, laughing through the syllables, even as his voice broke.
Joey rutted deeper, harder, driving into him. “Say it again.”
“You’re my big dumb penis prince—fuck—big fucking dick—Jesus.”
Joey grabbed the back of Justin’s neck and pulled him up and back into his chest, the angle deeper now, more intense.
“You gonna come just from my cock, princess?”
Justin gasped. “Only if you fuck me harder.”
Joey slammed into him. And didn’t stop. His thighs hit the backs of Justin’s, sweat flying, skin loud against skin. Justin was moaning openly now, no filter, his body loose and wild against Joey’s grip.
“You’re so fucking wet,” Joey panted. “This pussy—God, it loves me.”
Justin was shaking.
Joey slid a hand around to his belly, then lower—palm against the bulge in the thong, stroking lightly.
“Your cock’s so hard, princess.”
Justin gasped. “Just fuck me. Just—keep fucking—”
Joey groaned. “You’re gonna come just like this?”
Justin nodded fast. “Yes—yes—fuck—please—fill me—come in me—again—”
“I want you to say it while I come in you.”
Justin turned his head, voice breaking apart as Joey slammed into him over and over.
“I’m your muscle princess,” he moaned. “And you’re my fucking penis prince.”
Joey came with a shout, burying himself as deep as he could, cock twitching, spilling inside until his thighs were shaking. Justin followed seconds later, his whole body jerking as he groaned through his own orgasm, cock pulsing into the inside of the thong, soaking it again.
They collapsed into the bed, tangled, sticky, breathless. Joey stayed inside, hands still gripping Justin like he wasn’t ready to let go.
And Justin, face turned into the pillow, mumbled, “Still think it’s stupid.”
Joey kissed the sweat on his back. “Still think it’s hot.”
Justin exhaled a shaky laugh. “You’re gonna fuck me again, aren’t you.”
“Yeah,” Joey said, voice thick and low. “I am.”
Justin groaned. “Goddamn.”
Joey kissed him again. “Princess problems.”
Joey stayed buried in him for a long moment, both of them breathless, trembling, the room thick with the smell of sex and sweat and morning light.
Justin was limp beneath him, cock softening inside the red thong, cum smeared across his stomach, thighs slick where they’d pressed together. He didn’t speak. Just breathed. Deep and even. Like he’d given up something and gotten something better in return.
Joey kissed the back of his neck. Then again. Lower this time, down the ridge of his spine.
And then he pulled out, slowly, carefully, watching as his cock slid free, wet and glistening, a smear of white following.
Justin shivered.
Joey moved down the bed without a word, his hands smoothing over Justin’s thighs, nudging them open.
“What are you—”
“Shh,” Joey said. “I’ve got you.”
Justin dropped his head back into the pillow as Joey settled between his legs, one hand still stroking the outside of his thigh, the other gently parting him.
His hole was pink and stretched, still twitching faintly, slick with cum and spit and sweat. Joey stared for a moment—because it was beautiful.
He leaned in and kissed it.
Justin gasped.
Joey kissed again, slower this time, then let his tongue slip out, just a flick at first, then a longer, warmer drag across the mess they’d made together. He tasted salt, skin, his own cum. And then deeper, tongue pressing inside, soft and reverent, licking Justin open like it was something sacred.
Justin moaned low, his hips lifting just a little. “Fuck, Joey…”
Joey groaned into him. The taste was filthy. Perfect. He licked up everything he’d left behind, then lapped deeper, tongue circling, coaxing more from where it lingered inside. His hands held Justin open, gentle but sure, thumbs stroking lightly over flushed skin.
Justin writhed. Slowly. Like he didn’t know whether to hold still or give in.
“You’re so soft here,” Joey whispered between licks. “So warm.”
He kissed again, open-mouthed, slow, sucking slightly now, tongue slipping into the loosened ring, savoring the way it pulsed around him.
“Joey,” Justin breathed, voice wrecked.
He ate Justin out with slow, methodical devotion. No hurry. Just taste and heat and pressure. He let his tongue push in and curl, let his lips press kisses against stretched, open muscle. His hands stayed steady—one holding Justin open, the other stroking the back of his thigh, the waistband of the thong still clinging like it didn’t want to leave the story.
Justin was almost silent now. Just the occasional stuttering breath. The twitch of his hips. The hum in his throat when Joey hit just the right spot.
Joey pulled back once, just to look.
Cum slicked around the edges. Justin’s pussy glistened.
Joey leaned in and kissed it again, then whispered against him:
“My perfect fucking princess.”
Justin laughed, faint and breathless. “Penis prince says what?”
Joey grinned. “Says I’m never leaving this pussy.”
And he went back to it , tongue dragging deep, hands gentle, cock slowly thickening again beneath him.
Joey’s tongue didn’t let up. He licked deeper now, with more pressure, more rhythm, circling, flicking, curling inside. One hand stayed on Justin’s hip, grounding him, the other slid beneath to cradle his cock through the soaked front of the thong.
It was stiff again. Justin let out a low, shuddering moan.
“You’re close,” Joey whispered against him. “I can feel it.”
Justin didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He just spread his knees wider and rocked his hips slightly, pushing back into Joey’s mouth like it was inevitable.
Joey pushed his tongue in again, fucking him soft and steady with it, then moved lower—licking the seam, the slick between hole and balls, then circling back up. He mouthed the ring, tongued the twitching entrance, licked around the edges where his own cum still clung.
Then he slid a finger in.
Justin’s breath hitched. His thighs shook.
Joey licked again, deep, slow, tongue dragging across the pad of his finger from the inside. Then he pressed a second finger in, curling just slightly, searching until—
“Fuck—Joey—”
Found it.
The same spot from the night before. That swollen, perfect little knot inside that made Justin’s whole body tremble.
Joey didn’t stop. He fingered him slow and steady, curling and pressing, while his tongue worked the rim, hot and slick and sure.
Justin’s hands clawed at the sheets. His cock strained against the thong, the front now wet with fresh precum, the outline of the head dark and glistening.
Joey looked up once, saw the way Justin’s body was shaking, and doubled down.
“You’re gonna come again,” he said, voice low and certain. “You’re gonna come in this thong for me.”
Justin groaned, barely able to breathe. “Yeah—yeah, don’t stop—just like that—”
Joey kept going. Tongue, fingers, the grind of his palm where it pressed up against the base of Justin’s cock. Everything working together. Not rough. Just relentless.
And then Justin came.
Hard.
His hips jolted, thighs trembling as the front of the thong soaked through, his cock spurting again and again into the fabric, wet heat blooming between Joey’s hand and his belly. His voice cracked open with it—a groan, then a gasp, then a sound Joey had never heard from him before. Like relief. Like wonder.
Joey eased him through it, fingers slowing but not stopping, tongue softening to long, reverent licks.
Justin collapsed forward onto the bed, arms limp, breathing hard.
The thong clung to him now, soaked and stretched, a mess of sweat, cum, and friction.
Joey crawled up beside him, hands shaking slightly, his own cock rock-hard against his thigh.
Justin turned toward him, eyes still unfocused, lips parted.
Then, slowly, deliberately, he pushed Joey back onto the mattress.
“Your turn,” Justin said.
He kissed down Joey’s chest, down the line of his abs, licked a slow spiral around his belly button. Joey twitched, moaned.
And then Justin took him in hand.
Joey’s cock was flushed dark and dripping, thick with need. Justin wrapped his hand around it, familiar, confident, and started to stroke. Not teasing this time. Just firm. Steady. Purposeful.
Joey groaned, already close.
Justin bent lower and licked the head, soft, slow, tongue flicking into the slit, then dragging around the rim. He took the head into his mouth, sucked gently, then pulled back and stroked again.
Joey’s eyes rolled back. “Fuck—baby—”
Justin kept going. One hand stroking, the other gripping Joey’s thigh. He licked the shaft, kissed the head, jerked him faster now, his mouth and hands working in perfect rhythm.
Joey gasped. “I’m—gonna—fuck—I’m gonna—”
Justin nodded, lips still parted, his tongue dragging along the underside one last time as he stroked Joey’s cock with hard, fast pulls.
Cum shot up across his stomach, then again, spattering the front of the thong still clinging to Justin’s hips. The soaked red fabric caught it, stained darker, dripping, obscene and perfect. Joey’s whole body shuddered through it, gasping, muscles twitching under Justin’s hands.
Justin smiled.
Stroked him gently through the aftershocks, then leaned down and kissed the head of his cock one more time.
Joey looked down at the ruined thong.
“Jesus,” he whispered. “Look what we did to that.”
Justin laughed, eyes sparkling now. “That thong’s never gonna recover.”
Joey grinned. “I hope you don’t recover.”
Justin kissed him. “I won’t.”
Afternoon light spilled across the living room, soft and slow like honey. The windows were cracked. A faint breeze carried the ghost of clean skin, drying sweat, and just a trace of lube they hadn’t bothered to wipe off the hardwood. Joey was on the couch in a black t-shirt and gray sweats, legs spread, head tipped back, one hand on his stomach.
He looked wrecked, but in that lit-up, satisfied kind of way. Loose in his body. Almost purring. His cock was soft under the cotton, thick and obvious and still vaguely wet, outlined clearly down his thigh. He didn’t care. He’d come more in the last twenty-four hours than he had in weeks. He felt like his dick was glowing.
The sound of the bathroom door opening floated down the hall.
Joey opened one eye. Expected shorts. A tank. Maybe another thong underneath, just to torture him.
But it was Justin. Naked.
Fresh from the shower. Hair wet and messy. Skin still dewy with heat. And nothing on, no towel, no clothes, not even a wink of fabric anywhere. Just bare.
Joey sat up a little. Stared.
Justin crossed the room with no urgency, like it was normal. Like he hadn’t just walked out freshly shaved and glowing, cock soft and neat and pulled in against his body, barely hanging at all. Just a small, pretty weight between smooth thighs. Everything tight, soft, clean.
Joey let out a slow breath. “You look…”
Justin raised an eyebrow, pausing at the edge of the couch. “Yeah?”
Joey blinked. “You look really good naked.”
Justin smirked. “You’ve seen me naked all day.”
“Not like this.” Joey’s voice had gone a little hoarse. “Like… I don’t know. All clean. All… smooth.”
Justin padded over. “Want me to put something on?”
“Absolutely not,” Joey said, reaching out lazily. “Come here.”
Justin slid onto the couch beside him, his skin still warm and faintly damp, legs folding easy as he leaned into Joey’s side. Joey hooked an arm around him, one palm splayed across the middle of Justin’s back, thumb dragging slow along his ribs.
“God,” Joey murmured. “You’re so soft.”
Justin made a pleased little sound in his throat. “You’re obsessed.”
“I am. Look at you. You’re like—” Joey’s hand drifted lower, over Justin’s belly, then to the space just above his cock. He hesitated. Then dragged his fingers lightly across the skin there. “You’re all smooth and warm and—tight.”
Justin looked down, then back at Joey, amused. “What, my dick?”
Joey nodded. “Yeah. It’s fucking cute.”
Justin laughed, full and surprised, but didn’t pull away.
Joey kept tracing. The swell of his cock, soft and pulled in close to the body. The way it sat there, gentle and subtle, framed by shaved skin and the faintest tan line. It was nothing like Joey’s, big and swinging, thick and hairy, obnoxiously present even when soft.
Justin’s was quiet. Private. Soft to the eye, sweet to the hand.
Joey cupped it gently, thumb brushing under. Justin exhaled, eyelids fluttering.
“I love how different we are,” Joey whispered. “Everything about you is so clean. So… exact.”
Justin looked at him sideways, voice low. “That a compliment?”
Joey kissed the corner of his mouth. “It’s a fucking worship.”
Justin let his head fall onto Joey’s shoulder. “You can keep doing that.”
Joey didn’t stop touching. He just pet him, fingers stroking over the soft curve of his cock, the smooth skin of his inner thigh, the flat plane of his belly. Slow, open-palmed affection. Nothing rushed. Just taking it in.
Joey’s hands rose automatically, one to Justin’s lower back, the other drifting up over his side, then forward to his chest.
He cupped one pec. Then the other.
His thumbs brushed over Justin’s nipples, soft and slow, circling. He watched the way they responded, tightening under his touch, flushing darker.
“You’ve got the prettiest fucking tits,” Joey whispered. “I mean—look at these.”
Justin huffed a quiet laugh. “They’re just pecs, man.”
“No,” Joey said. “They’re tits. Yours. Soft and strong and just…made to be touched.”
His voice dropped. “Made to be sucked.”
Before Justin could answer, Joey leaned in and closed his mouth around one nipple, lips sealing tight, tongue flicking once, then again.
Justin exhaled, sharp.
Joey suckled slowly, wet and warm, letting his lips drag across the flushed skin, tongue circling, teasing the sensitive peak until Justin’s back arched. Then he moved to the other, mouth open and hungry, nursing it like he meant to drink something from him.
Justin moaned low. His hands slid into Joey’s hair, fingers tangling lightly.
“You like that?” Joey murmured between kisses.
Justin’s breath hitched. “Yeah. Fuck. I didn’t think I would.”
Joey suckled again, deeper now, tongue flat and heavy against the nipple, lips pulling slow and deliberate. He let it pop free with a soft sound, then licked it once more before looking up.
“You’ve got big beautiful titties,” he whispered.
Justin was breathing heavier now, but smiling. His eyes were heavy-lidded, cheeks flushed.
Then, slowly, his hands drifted down Joey’s chest, over the thin cotton of his shirt, past the hem, until they found the bulk of Joey’s cock outlined in his sweats.
Justin pressed his palm to it.
Joey twitched under the touch.
Justin didn’t stroke. Not right away. He just held it.
Heavy and warm. So much bigger than his own, even soft. Thicker than it had any right to be. The weight of it filled his hand like it was sculpted just for that.
He exhaled softly.
Joey looked down. “That feel good?”
Justin nodded. “Yeah. I like holding it.”
Joey smiled. “It likes being held.”
Justin dragged his thumb slowly up the shaft through the fabric. The whole thing responded, filling slightly, twitching just enough to say I’m listening.
Justin wrapped his fingers more fully around it, still gentle, still not jerking. Just there.
“It’s cool,” he said after a beat, voice quiet. “You’ve got this big, stupid dick, and somehow it makes me feel chill.”
Joey barked a laugh, low and rough. “You holding my cock like a lucky charm?”
Justin smirked. “Yeah. Big hard veiny lucky charm.”
He squeezed gently, then let his palm flatten again.
Joey groaned. “You keep doing that, I’m gonna get hard just from you thinking about it.”
Justin shifted in closer, his chest pressed lightly to Joey’s, their breath mixing in the narrow space between.
“Maybe that’s the idea,” he said.
And kept his hand there. Just holding.
Just feeling.
Just keeping the prince calm.
Joey sank into the couch. His eyes fluttered half-shut as Justin shifted in his lap, knees wide, thighs pressed firm around Joey’s hips. One hand stayed wrapped around Joey’s cock through the sweats, slow and steady, while the other guided Joey's head back to his chest.
“Come on,” Justin whispered. “Still hungry?”
Joey nodded, dazed.
“Then feed.”
Justin brushed his nipple along Joey’s mouth, teasing, letting it graze his lips. Joey opened without a word and latched on, soft at first, just a kiss. Then his tongue dragged slow, and his mouth sealed around it. He began to suck again. Wet. Deep. Content.
Justin’s voice came out low. “Fuck yeah, Joey. Nurse from your muscle princess.”
Joey moaned around him.
His hips shifted slightly under Justin’s weight, cock thickening fast beneath the sweats, stretching the fabric as Justin’s hand moved with purpose now, still slow, still soft, but firm. He was feeding him in every way: tit in his mouth, cock in his hand, body warm and steady on top of him.
Joey suckled deeper. One hand slid under Justin’s ass, gripping the round curve, fingers curling in to press and hold. His other hand clutched the edge of the couch, knuckles white.
Justin’s nipple popped free with a wet sound, slick and flushed.
Joey blinked up at him, dazed. “You’re my fucking dream girl.”
He switched sides, guiding Joey to the other nipple. Joey groaned and latched on again. His tongue circled, lips sucking slow, greedier now. Justin rocked in his lap slightly, just enough to feel the thick heat rising beneath him. His hand moved lower, slid under the waistband, finally touching skin.
Joey’s cock was hot and slick already. Justin wrapped his hand around it and felt it pulse, stiff and heavy, alive in his palm.
“God,” he breathed. “You’re so fucking big.”
Joey whimpered against his chest, cock jumping in his hand.
Justin started to stroke, slow and long, letting his fingers glide from base to tip, collecting his pre and spreading it, making it wetter, easier, more. Joey’s hips started to lift, subtle little thrusts into his hand, but Justin held him down with a firm roll of his hips.
“Naw bro,” he whispered. “Stay still.”
Joey nodded into his chest, mouth still working his nipple.
Justin kept going.
He fed his prince like that: one hand stroking his cock, the other cradling his head, pressing his nipple closer to his mouth. Joey was lost now, moaning soft against him, tongue dragging, body twitching every time Justin’s hand curled around the head just right.
“Good boy,” Justin said softly. “Just suck and let me stroke it.”
Joey made a helpless noise, half moan, half groan, and Justin felt his cock throb in his fist.
He sped up just slightly, grip tightening, his own breath catching now.
“You gonna come from this?” he whispered. “From sucking my tits and getting your dick jerked like a dumb little prince?”
Joey nodded fast, voice muffled. “Yes—yes, fuck—don’t stop—please—”
Justin bent down, kissed his hair. “That’s my boy.”
And kept feeding him.
Joey was panting now. Still nursing. Still holding on. His tongue moved slow and steady, lips slick around Justin’s nipple, sucking like it kept him grounded. Like it was feeding him something he didn’t even have a name for.
And Justin, calm, solid, half-smiling, just stroked.
His hand moved up and down Joey’s massive boner, slick and rhythmic, fingers curled with the perfect pressure, wrist twisting just enough at the top to make Joey twitch. The giant head flared each time, leaking freely, wetting the inside of his waistband.
Justin could feel it building, could feel Joey about to break. His breath caught on the inhale, jaw clenching around the soft flesh of Justin’s chest, hips starting to roll again despite himself.
“No,” Justin said gently, hips pressing down to keep him pinned. “Stay still. I’ve got you.”
Joey whimpered. Justin leaned closer, his lips at Joey’s temple now, speaking into his skin. “You gonna come for me like this?”
Joey nodded, frantic.
“You gonna make a mess in these sweats? Get them all wet with cum from your big, dumb dick?”
Joey groaned around his nipple, and Justin felt his cock jump in his hand, full, thick, desperate.
“That’s it, big dumb penis prince,” Justin whispered.
Joey moaned against his chest, the sound breaking as he came.
He didn’t lift his hips. Didn’t even move. He just let go, spurt after spurt, soaking the inside of his sweats, warm and hot and wet against Justin’s palm. Justin kept stroking through it, slower now, coaxing every drop, watching Joey twitch and writhe under the pressure of his own release.
Joey’s mouth finally fell off his nipple, lips red, chin wet. His head dropped back against the couch, eyes fluttering, chest heaving.
Justin pulled his hand out slowly, a wet stretch of cum and sweat-slick skin catching between his fingers.
He looked down at Joey’s sweats, darkened now, a spreading patch of slick soaking through the fabric right over the bulge. The outline of his cock was still visible, soft now, but still thick, still twitching faintly from aftershocks.
“Fuck,” Justin whispered, almost impressed. “You really made a mess.”
Joey tried to catch his breath, voice hoarse. “That was… fuck. That was…”
He didn’t finish. Didn’t need to.
Justin didn’t say a word. He just knelt between Joey’s legs and tugged at the waistband of the sweats.
Joey blinked, still dazed. “What’re you—”
But Justin was already pulling them down. Slowly. Peeling them off inch by inch, revealing skin damp with sweat, the matted trail of Joey’s bush, and a thick mess of cum pooled around the base of his cock, leaking down into his curls, streaking his inner thighs, clinging to his soft, flushed balls.
Justin leaned in and kissed the head of Joey’s cock, tender and wet. Then he dragged his tongue down the shaft, slow and steady, collecting the cooling sperm where it had run.
Joey let out a ragged breath as Justin pushed his face into the mess, tongue lapping through the sticky patch of hair, cleaning his pubes with long, reverent strokes. He kissed Joey’s mound, nuzzled his nose in the curls, then licked lower.
His tongue dragged across Joey’s balls, slick and heavy and still twitching. He sucked one gently into his mouth, then the other, using his tongue to roll them, clean them, worship them.
Joey groaned, eyes fluttering shut, hips rocking just barely into the attention.
Justin worked his way, kissing everywhere the cum had touched. Every drop. Every smear. His hands held Joey’s thighs wide, his mouth taking in the taste, the heat, the mess Joey had made just for him.
And when it was gone, when he’d cleaned every trace, he pressed one last kiss to the base of Joey’s cock, soft and final.
He looked up, mouth wet, eyes steady, voice thick with pride.
“Can’t waste a drop of my prince’s royal sperm.”
Joey let out a choked laugh, but there was nothing playful in his eyes, just hunger and awe and something maybe too big for either of them to name.
Justin climbed back up into his lap, like he belonged there. Joey wrapped his arms around him and held him close, sticky skin, slow breath, and that deep, perfect heat settling between them.
Justin reached up and brushed the damp hair from Joey’s forehead. Then leaned in and kissed his mouth, slow and sticky and full of everything they weren’t quite saying.
“You’re welcome,” he whispered against his lips.
Joey let out a small, helpless laugh, and pulled Justin close again, wrapping an arm around his waist and burying his face in the curve of his neck.
Joey was still catching his breath, cheek against Justin’s chest, the room a humid hush around them. But even in his afterglow haze, he could feel it: Justin hadn’t come. He hadn’t asked. Hadn’t needed to.
But Joey wanted to give it to him anyway.
He shifted beneath the weight of Justin’s thighs and pressed a kiss to the slope of his pec.
“You didn’t finish,” he murmured.
Justin stroked Joey’s hair idly. “Didn’t have to.”
Joey looked up. “Let me?”
Justin hesitated then nodded once. Not shy. Just ready.
Joey’s hand slipped between them. Down over the curve of Justin’s ass. His fingers slid lower, finding that soft, slick place between his cheeks. Still wet from earlier. Still open.
Justin gasped softly when Joey’s fingertip brushed the rim of his pussy.
Joey kissed his chest. “Still so warm,” he said, low. “Still soft.”
He pressed in slowly, one finger sliding past the muscle, curling deep. Justin’s whole body shifted forward with it, hips twitching, chest rising.
Joey suckled lightly at one of his nipples as his finger moved inside him—slow thrusts, careful circles, pressing until he found that sweet, spongy spot deep within.
Justin moaned, his head falling back.
Joey grinned against his skin. “There.”
He kept fingering him, deep, steady, curling against that tender place—while his other hand found Justin’s cock, soft and resting tight against his belly. Joey didn’t stroke right away. He just held it. Warm. Small in his hand, even now. So different from his own. So perfect.
Justin gasped as Joey’s thumb brushed the head.
Then he groaned as Joey’s finger curled deep again.
“You’re gonna come just like this,” Joey whispered. “From your pussy.”
Justin nodded, panting. “Yes—fuck—keep going.”
Joey pushed in a second finger—slow, careful—and worked them in tandem, curling and pressing, stroking Justin’s cock now with the other hand, just enough to spread the slick.
“You’re leaking,” Joey said. “So wet for me.”
Justin shivered.
Joey’s fingers moved faster now, pushing and curling against his prostate. His hand on Justin’s cock stayed loose, stroking gently, letting the rhythm between the two build and build.
Justin’s breath was ragged, hips twitching, whole body flexing around Joey’s fingers.
“Please—Joey—please—”
“Come for me,” Joey said. “Pretty princess. Time for you to make a mess.”
Justin arched—and broke.
His whole body seized, cock spurting inside his thong and Joey’s knuckles, hole clenching tight around Joey’s fingers as he cried out, long and low and wrecked.
Joey held him there, working him through it, fingers still pressing deep, hand slow on his cock, milking every last shuddering pulse of release.
Justin sagged against him, breath hot on his shoulder, thighs shaking, chest flushed.
Joey slid his fingers out slowly, kissed his nipple, then kissed him soft on the cheek.
“You’re so fucking good,” he whispered. “So pretty when you come.”
Justin didn’t speak for a long moment. Then, voice low and wrecked: “That was…fuck.”
Joey smiled. “You needed it.”
Justin kissed him once, slow and full.
“We both needed this.”
