"Christ, it's hotter than hell in here," Bill muttered, fanning himself with a takeout menu. The air conditioner had given up sometime around dawn, leaving his apartment stifling, thick with the scent of sweat and musk. He shifted in the armchair, leather sticking to his bare skin, and let his legs sprawl wider — one foot planted on the floor, the other hooked lazily over the armrest.
No point in clothes. Not in this heat. His cock, thick and heavy against his thigh, twitched as his fingers idly traced the length of it. He wasn’t even trying to get hard — just adjusting, really — but the friction was enough. By the time he noticed, he was already half-chubbed, the weight of his balls shifting as he lazily palmed himself.
A knock at the door startled him, though not enough to stop. "It's open!" he called, voice rough. The door creaked, and footsteps hesitated just inside the threshold. Bill didn’t turn. Let the guy look.
The silence stretched long enough that Bill finally glanced up. The heating technician — John, according to the patch on his shirt — stood frozen, toolbox clutched tight in one hand. His eyes raked over Bill’s body, lingering at the obvious swell between his thighs. Gray hair, broad shoulders, a chest that probably hadn’t seen a razor in decades. Bill grinned. "You gonna fix my AC or just stand there staring?"
John cleared his throat, but his gaze didn’t waver. "Maybe both."
Bill’s laugh was low, pleased. He spread his legs just a little wider. "Yeah?"
The toolbox hit the floor with a thud. "Yeah."
John didn't move, but his calloused fingers twitched at his sides like he was already imagining the feel of Bill's thick thighs. The air between them crackled — part sweat, part ozone from the busted AC unit whining in the corner. Bill let his fingers trail up his own shaft, slow and deliberate, watching the way John's Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. "You ever fuck on the job, old man?"
A laugh burst out of John — rough and surprised — before he dragged a hand down his face, wiping away the pretense. "Not since '85." His voice dropped to a growl as he unbuttoned his work shirt, revealing a dense mat of silvered chest hair. "Might make an exception."
Bill's cock jerked against his palm, already leaking. He didn't bother hiding it. "Fuckin' knew you were trouble." The chair groaned as he shifted, leather squeaking under his weight. "Get over here before I melt."
John came like a man who knew exactly how his hips moved — loose, confident, stopping just close enough for Bill to catch the scent of him: salt, engine grease, and something darkly male. His thumb hooked in the waistband of his jeans, popping the button with practiced ease. "You always answer the door like this?"
"Only for pretty boys." Bill reached out, catching a handful of John's shirt and yanking him down. Their mouths collided — wet, sloppy, all teeth and tongue. John tasted like stale coffee and mint gum, and Bill groaned into it, arching up as a calloused hand finally wrapped around him.
John's grip was perfect — firm, knowing exactly where to thumb over the swollen head. "Christ," he muttered against Bill's lips, pumping him slow. "You're built like a fucking draft horse."
Bill's laugh turned into a sharp gasp as John dropped to his knees. The carpet scraped his bare ass as he shoved forward, but he barely noticed — not with John's stubble scraping his inner thighs, not with the hot, open-mouthed kiss pressed just below his navel. "Gonna put that mouth to work or what?"
John nipped at his hipbone in warning, then sucked the crease of his thigh. "Bossy."
"I earned it." Bill tangled a fist in John's hair — not pushing, just holding — as the older man's tongue laved up his shaft. The first swipe of heat around his cockhead punched the air from his lungs. "Fuck —"
John grinned, all wolf. "Yeah." And then he swallowed him whole.
Bill's back arched, muscles straining against the chair as John took him deep, throat working around him with obscene ease. The wet heat was unbearable — perfect — and Bill's fingers tightened in John's hair, thighs trembling where they bracketed the older man's shoulders. "Jesus fucking —" His hips jerked involuntarily, cock nudging the back of John's throat, and the choked noise that followed sent fire licking up his spine.
John pulled off just enough to smirk, spit shining on his lips. "Not gonna last, huh?" His hand replaced his mouth, pumping slow, twisting just under the crown in a way that made Bill's toes curl. "Big guy like you."
"Asshole." Bill growled, but it cracked into a moan when John ducked back down, sucking hard at the head while his fingers rolled Bill's balls — heavy, full, already drawing up tight. The dual sensation had him seeing stars, his free hand clawing at the chair arm. "Gonna — fuck —"
John hummed around him, deep and filthy, and that was it. Bill came with a shout, thick pulses flooding John's mouth, hips stuttering as he fucked up into it. John took it all, swallowing greedily, until Bill slumped back, panting, cock still twitching against his tongue.
When John finally pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes were blown black. "Damn," he rasped. "You taste like sin."
Bill laughed, breathless, dragging John up by the collar for a messy kiss, tasting himself on the man's tongue. "Your turn." His hands were already working at John's belt, popping the buckle with a clink. "How d'you want me?"
John's answering groan vibrated against his lips as he shoved his jeans down, freeing a thick, ruddy cock — just as hairy as the rest of him, curving proudly toward his stomach. "Against the wall," he panted. "Need to feel all that muscle under me."
Bill didn't need telling twice. He hauled himself up, legs still shaky, and let John manhandle him toward the nearest solid surface — the hallway mirror rattling as Bill's back hit it. John's teeth sank into his shoulder, hands roaming the hard planes of his chest, fingernails scraping over his nipples. "Still think you can take it?" John murmured, grinding against him. "Big guy like you?"
Bill bared his teeth in a grin. "Try me."
John didn’t hesitate. He spun Bill around with surprising strength, slamming his chest against the mirror with a thud that fogged the glass under Bill’s ragged exhale. Calloused hands gripped his hips tight enough to leave marks, and Bill groaned as John’s thick cock pressed against his ass. "Tell me you're clean," John growled, lips dragging over Bill’s shoulder blade.
"Clean as a whistle," Bill panted, arching violent back. "But unless you pulled a condom out of your ass —"
John’s laugh was dark as he reached past Bill’s thigh, grabbing the bottle of lube that’d been sitting on the hallway table since his last hookup. "Lucky guess."
The cold squirt between his cheeks made Bill hiss, but the heat of John’s thumb circling his rim burned hotter. He pushed into the touch, muscles clenching instinctively when the first thick finger breached him. "Fuck, you’re tight," John muttered, working slow as Bill’s body resisted, then yielded.
Bill braced his hands against the mirror, watching his own reflection — flushed chest, sweat-slick pecs quivering as John added a second finger, crooking them just right to make his knees almost give out. "Quit teasing," he gritted out, pressing back onto those fingers until they were knuckle-deep.
John’s teeth grazed his spine. "Bossy bastard." But he withdrew his fingers with a slick pop, replacing them with the blunt head of his cock instead. The stretch was exquisite, white-hot pleasure-pain that had Bill cursing as John bottomed out with a grunt, hips flush against his ass.
For a heartbeat, neither moved — just breathing ragged, John’s hands trembling where they gripped Bill’s waist. Then John pulled back almost all the way and slammed home again, punching a ragged moan from Bill’s throat. The mirror rattled with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping skin drowning out the dying AC’s whine.
Bill reached back blindly, grabbing a handful of John’s shirt to yank him closer. "Harder," he demanded, and John obeyed — fucking into him like a man possessed, each snap of his hips driving Bill forward into the mirror. The glass was warm now, fogged with their breath, streaked where Bill’s forehead dragged against it.
"You feel fucking perfect," John snarled in his ear, one hand sliding around to fist Bill’s leaking cock in time with his thrusts. "Like you were made for this."
Bill’s vision whited out as pleasure coiled tight in his gut. "Gonna —" he warned, but John just tightened his grip, speeding up until Bill was coming with a shout, stripes of cum painting the mirror as his body clenched around John’s cock.
John followed with a groan, burying himself deep as he pumped his sperm into Bill’s ass in hot pulses. They slumped against the mirror together, breathing harsh, sweat mingling where their skin stuck.
After a moment, John chuckled against Bill’s shoulder. "So." His voice was wrecked. "Still need that AC fixed?"
Bill laughed breathlessly. "Yeah. But maybe after a shower." He turned his head just enough to catch John’s mouth in a lazy kiss. "Join me?"
John’s answering grin was all teeth. "Thought you’d never ask."
Bill watched as John stepped out of his jeans — still half-hard, his cock glistening in the dim hallway light. But that damned shirt still clung to his shoulders, sleeves rolled up past his elbows like some stubborn afterthought. Bill hooked a finger in theeper collar, dragging him close. "What the fuck’s with the modesty act?"
John huffed a laugh, his breath warm against Bill’s stubble. "Uniform policy." His calloused fingers trailed down Bill’s ribs, slow enough to make him shiver. "Gotta look professional when I bill you."
"Bullshit." Bill caught the hem of the fabric, peeling it upward until John’s chest hair caught in the cotton. The older man groaned as the shirt finally came off over his head, revealing shoulders gone ruddy with exertion, a sprinkle of silver hair leading down past his belt line. "There. Now you’re dressed for the occasion."
The shower was small enough that they had to cram in together, backs pressed to the cold tile as water sluiced between them. John reached past Bill for the soap, his biceps brushing against Bill’s pecs in a way that made them both pause. "Christ," John muttered, thumbing a droplet from Bill’s collarbone. "You’re built like a brick shithouse."
Bill smirked, catching John’s wrist and guiding the bar of soap downward. "And you talk too much." The lather foamed between them as their hands collided, slippery and warm, John’s fingers wrapping around Bill’s thickening cock with a familiarity that punched the air from his lungs.
The water turned cold before either noticed.
John’s soap-slicked hand worked Bill’s cock with the same rough efficiency he’d probably used on pipes and wrenches — all firm twists and knowing pressure. Bill groaned, forehead dropping onto John’s shoulder as steam fogged the shower glass. "Fuck, you’re good at that," he muttered, biting at the damp skin under his lips.
"Decades of practice," John chuckled, his other hand sliding down to cradle Bill’s balls, rolling them in a way that made his thighs tense. The water sluiced between them, washing away the lather but not the heat.
Bill reached blindly behind himself, fingers finding the slick cleft of John’s ass. The older man hissed when Bill’s middle finger breached him, muscles fluttering around the intrusion. "Two can play that game," Bill murmured, twisting his wrist just so, grinning at the way John’s grip on him tightened.
John’s hips jerked forward, his own cock jutting against Bill’s thigh, leaking onto the wet tile. "Cheap shot," he growled, but his breath hitched when Bill added a second finger, scissoring slowly.
The shower stall echoed with their ragged breathing and the slap of skin against tile as John increased his pace, his fist gliding effortlessly over Bill’s length. Billbugs his fingers deeper, curling them until John’s knees nearly buckled. "Goddammit—" John snarled, forehead pressed to Bill’s sternum.
Bill could feel the exact moment John lost control — the tremor in his hands, the way his hips stuttered forward. Hot cum streaked between them, mixing with the water swirling down the drain. John’s grip on him faltered, but Bill didn’t let up, fucking his fingers into the older man until John was gasping, overstimulated and shaking.
Only then did Bill allow himself to finish, sucking John’s shoulder as he came over John’s fist with a guttural moan. They stayed like that for a long moment, leaning into each other as the water ran cold again.
John recovered first, slapping Bill’s ass with a wet smack. "Move over, you hog." He reached past Bill to shut off the tap, his chest hair still dripping. "AC’s still broken, you know."
Bill snorted, stepping out onto the bathmat. "So fix it." He tossed John a towel, openly admiring the way the older man’s muscles shifted under his skin. "Or we could test how many times that chair holds out."
John’s grin was wolfish as he caught the towel. "Deal."
They barely made it to the living room before John had Bill pressed against the wall again, still damp from the shower, the older man’s calloused hands mapping every ridge of muscle like he was committing them to memory. Bill groaned as John’s teeth scraped his nipple, fingers tangling in gray chest hair. "Thought you had work to do," he panted, arching into the rough touch.
"Priorities." John nipped at Bill’s collarbone before dropping to his knees with a grunt, his thumbs spreading Bill’s cheeks wide. The first lick along his rim made Bill’s thighs quake. "Fucking hell —"
John chuckled, the vibration sending sparks up Bill’s spine. "Tastes better than you smell." His tongue delved deeper, wet and relentless, until Bill was gripping the back of the armchair just to stay upright. The leather creaked under his white-knuckled hold.
When John finally stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes were dark with hunger. "Bed. Now."
Bill didn’t argue. He let John shove him down onto the rumpled sheets, the older man climbing over him with a predator’s grace. Bill watched, pulse hammering, as John lubed his throbbing boner with a practiced twist of his wrist.
The first thrust stole Bill’s breath — slow, deliberate, John’s hips flush against his ass as the older man buried himself to the hilt. "Christ," John muttered, forehead dropping to Bill’s shoulder. "You’re gonna ruin me."
Bill’s laugh came out ragged as he arched back, taking John deeper. "Promises, promises."
John’s rhythm was relentless after that — deep, punishing strokes that had the headboard slamming against the wall. Bill braced himself on all fours, sweat slick between his shoulder blades, every snap of John’s hips dragging a moan from his throat.
A hand fisted in his hair, yanking his head back. "Look at you," John growled, his breath hot on Bill’s neck. "Taking it like a champ."
Bill bared his teeth in a grin. "Give me— ah— something to— fuck— complain about."
John obliged, angling his thrusts sharper, until Bill was seeing stars, his cock leaking untouched onto the sheets. The coil in his gut tightened unbearably —
The front door swung open with a bang.
Both men froze.
"Delivery for — oh Jesus!" A kid in a pizza uniform stood gaping in the doorway, his face flaming red as the cheese slid off the pie in his hands.
John didn’t miss a beat. "Put it on the table," he grunted, hips rolling slow. "And close the damn door."
The kid fled.
Bill’s laughter shook through both of them as John resumed pounding into him, the smell of pepperoni mixing with sweat and sex. "Tip him extra," he managed, before John’s hand wrapped around his cock and wiped every coherent thought from his mind.
The pizza box sat steaming on the coffee table, forgotten, as John drove into Bill with renewed vigor, his fingers digging bruises into Bill’s hips. Bill could hear the grease-soaked cardboard squeak with each thrust — or maybe that was the bedsprings. Didn’t matter. Nothing did except the white-hot friction, the way John’s balls slapped against his ass with every snap of those thick thighs.
"You close?" John rasped, his free hand fisting in the sheets.
Bill could only nod, his jaw clenched tight as pleasure coiled low in his gut. John’s thumb swiped over his leaking slit and that was it — he came with a choked shout, stripes of sperm painting the crumpled pizza receipt below them. John followed with a growl, hips stuttering as he emptied his load deep inside Bill, his forehead pressed between Bill’s shoulder blades.
They collapsed in a heap of sweaty limbs, John’s softening cock slipping out with a lewd sound. Bill winced as he rolled onto his back. "Fuck. That kid’s never delivering here again."
John chuckled, reaching for a slice of now-lukewarm pizza. "Worth it." He took a bite, cheese stretching obscenely, and offered the dangling end to Bill. "Fuel up. AC’s still busted."
Bill accepted the greasy offering, licking sauce from his fingers as he eyed John’s softening body in the afternoon light. The older man’s chest hair was matted with sweat, his work boots still on like some perverse afterthought. Bill hooked a foot around John’s calf. "So. You gonna fix it or what?"
John wiped his hands on the sheets — Bill would bitch about that later — and stood with a groan. "Yeah, yeah." He rummaged in his discarded toolbox, pulling out a wrench with deliberate slowness. "I might need … assistance."
Bill’s grin was wolfish as he swung his legs off the bed. "I thought you’d never ask."
John tossed the wrench onto the mattress with a clatter and grabbed a fistful of Bill’s chest hair instead, dragging him up into a filthy kiss that tasted like pepperoni and sweat. Bill groaned into it, his spent cock twitching against John’s thigh as the older man backed him toward the busted AC unit near the window.
The machine whined pathetically when John kicked it, sending a shower of dust bunnies scattering. Bill leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his pecs, watching John’s thick fingers pry open the vent cover. "That’s it," he drawled. "Show it who’s boss."
John shot him a look over his shoulder, his ass flexing as he crouched. "You’re distracting me." He reached blindly into the duct, muscles straining, and came up with a blackened filter dangling between his fingers. "Found your problem."
Bill stepped closer, crowding into John’s space until their sweat-slick skin stuck together. He plucked the filthy filter from John’s grip and tossed it aside. "You missed a spot." His fingers traced the curve of John’s lower back, dipping below his waistband.
John’s breath hitched when Bill’s palm cupped his ass. "You’re gonna get me fired," he muttered, but arched into the touch anyway.
Bill nipped at John’s ear. "Worth it." His other hand slid around John’s hip, finding him half-hard again. "Looks like you’ve got another tool needs adjusting."
John’s laugh was rough as he turned, pinning Bill against the wall with his hips. The AC unit rattled ominously. "You’re a menace." His calloused fingers wrapped around Bill’s thickening cock, stroking slow. "Good thing I specialize in … stubborn equipment."
Bill’s head thunked back against the drywall as John dropped to his knees again, his gray chest hair brushing Bill’s thighs. Outside, the pizza delivery kid’s squealing tires faded into the afternoon heat. Somewhere in the building, a neighbor’s TV blared a game show. None of it mattered — not with John’s mouth sinking down on him, hot and wet, his tongue working the underside in a way that made Bill’s vision blur.
The AC unit chose that moment to shudder back to life with a metallic groan, a stream of cold air blasting across their tangled bodies. John pulled off with a gasp, his lips swollen. "Told you I’d fix it."
Bill tangled his fingers in John’s hair, holding him right where he wanted him. "Keep going," he growled. "I’m not done with you yet."
John’s answering grin was all teeth. "Yes sir."
The cold air from the AC slithered over Bill’s overheated skin as John took him deep again, throat working around his girth with a practiced ease that had Bill seeing stars. His hips bucked forward involuntarily, cock bumping the back of John’s throat — and instead of pulling away, the older man just hummed, the vibration ricocheting up Bill’s spine like a live wire.
Bill’s fingers tightened in John’s hair, guiding him into a punishing rhythm. Drool dripped down John’s stubble, mixing with sweat and precum on Bill’s thighs. The metallic tang of the newly-working AC unit mingled with the musk of sex — ozone and salt and the heady scent of John’s shampoo as Bill fucked his mouth in earnest.
When John reached up to pinch Bill’s nipples, twisting just shy of painful, Bill came with a shout, spilling down John’s throat in thick pulses. John swallowed greedily, lips sealed tight until Bill’s cock twitched, oversensitive. Only then did he pull off with a wet pop, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Bill sagged against the wall, knees weak. "Christ, you’re good at that," he panted.
John chuckled, rising with a groan, his knees cracking. "Told you," he rasped, voice wrecked. His own cock stood proud between them, flushed and leaking. Bill reached for him, but John caught his wrist. "Nah. My turn to watch."
Before Bill could protest, John shoved him onto the bed and straddled his thighs, stroking himself with slow, deliberate tugs. Bill’s mouth watered at the sight — John’s hairy abs flexing, his balls drawing up tight, the way his foreskin slid over the swollen head with every pass.
Bill didn’t ask before leaning up to lick a stripe up John’s shaft, swirling his tongue around the tip. John swore, hips jerking forward, and Bill grinned around him, taking him deep until his nose pressed into silvered curls.
John came with a grunt, thick pulses of sperm flooding Bill’s mouth. Bill swallowed it all, savoring the bitter tang, the way John shuddered above him. When he finally pulled off, John collapsed onto the mattress beside him, both of them breathing hard as the AC hummed its approval.
John turned his head, grinning. "So. About that service call..."
Bill snorted. "You’re fired."
"You're worth it."
John's chuckle rumbled through Bill's chest where they lay tangled, the AC's cold breeze raising goosebumps on their sweat-damp skin. The older man traced idle circles around Bill's nipple with grease-stained fingers. "Gonna need a shower. Again."
Bill stretched, muscles flexing under John's appreciative gaze. "Could turn it into a competition," he mused, thumbing a smear of dried cum from John's stomach. "See who can stay dirty longest."
John's teeth flashed as he rolled atop Bill, pinning those thick wrists to the mattress. Their groins slid together, both men hardening again despite the sticky aftermath. "Cheater," John growled when Bill arched up against him.
The toolbox spilled its contents when John kicked it aside making room to kneel between Bill's thighs. Bill watched through heavy-lidded eyes as John rummaged through the mess — not for tools, but for the forgotten bottle of lube rolling near the bed leg.
"You planned this," Bill accused when John slicked three fingers tip to base.
John's grin was unrepentant as he pressed them against Bill's hole, still loose from earlier. "Maybe I packed extra supplies." His fingers breached with a wet sound that made Bill's toes curl. "Maybe I smelled trouble the second I saw your work order."
Bill's laughter dissolved into a groan as John crooked those thick fingers just right. "Fuck —"
John's free hand clamped over Bill's mouth when the front door rattled. Another knock. "Sir? Your ... uh ... pizza receipt ..."
John didn't pause his ministrations. "Slide it under!" he barked, scissoring his fingers as paper scraped tile. Bill bit John's palm, hips pumping air when those calloused fingers brushed his prostate.
The retreating footsteps barely registered over the slick sounds of John working him open. "You," Bill panted when the fingers withdrew, "are a goddamn menace."
John wiped his hand on the pizza box before gripping his cock. "Complaints department's closed." He sheathed himself in one smooth thrust, punching the breath from Bill's lungs.
The bedframe cracked against the wall in time with John's hips. Somewhere beneath them, the forgotten receipt stuck to cooling grease. Bill didn't give a damn — not with John's chest hair scraping his nipples, not with those work-roughened hands mapping his body like a man starved.
When the downstairs neighbor started banging on their ceiling, John just growled "Fuck 'em" and kissed Bill's shoulder as he came. Bill followed him over the edge, painting their stomachs anew as the AC unit sighed like a satisfied beast.
John collapsed atop him, their sweat mingling in the sticky afternoon stillness. Bill traced idle patterns through the silvered hair on John's chest, feeling the older man's heartbeat gradually slow beneath his palm. The pizza box crinkled when John reached over to snag the last slice, cold now but still edible.
"You got another call today?" Bill asked around a mouthful of congealed cheese, fingertips skating down John's ribs to thumb at his hipbone.
John shook his head, grease shining on his lips. "Not til Monday." His calloused hand settled over Bill's thigh, squeezing just shy of painful. "Why? You need another part replaced?"
Bill grinned, rolling them until John's back hit the mattress, their spent cocks sliding together in the humid space between them. "I was thinking," he murmured against John's ear, biting the lobe, "you could stay. Help me ... test the AC's consistency."
John's laughter rumbled through both of them as Bill rolled his hips, their bodies slotting together with filthy ease. "Naked supervision," John drawled, hands already mapping Bill's ass. "Is that a union job?"
Bill kissed him quiet, sucking the taste of pepperoni from his tongue. When he pulled back, John's pupils were blown wide. "Full benefits," Bill promised, grinding down just right to make John's breath hitch.
John's grip on his ass tightened. "There'd better be overtime pay." He inclined his head toward the window, where golden evening light slanted across the floorboards. "Starting now."
They barely made it to sundown before the bedframe collapsed.
John barely flinched when the wood splintered beneath them, too busy dragging Bill down into another filthy kiss as they hit the floor in a tangle of limbs. Bill laughed against his mouth, tasting sweat and stale pizza as John rolled them until Bill's broad back pressed into the broken slats. "You're paying for that," John growled, hands already roaming Bill's torso, grease stains blooming like tattoos across his pecs.
Bill arched into the touch, the ruined bedsprings digging into his shoulders. "Worth it," he muttered, wrapping a thick thigh around John's waist to drag him closer. Their cocks slid together, half-hard again despite the hours of abuse. The AC's hum filled the silence between their ragged breaths.
John sat back on his heels, surveying the wreckage — splintered wood, torn sheets, the pizza box now serving as a makeshift pillow. His gaze trailed up Bill's sprawled form, lingering on the love bites on his inner thighs. "Christ," John rasped, rubbing a hand over his stubble. "I'm too old for this."
Bill's grin was feral as he reached for him. "Liar." His fingers closed around John's reawakening cock, thumb smearing a bead of moisture across the head. "You love it."
John's answering groan shook loose a final screw from the broken bedframe. His hips jerked into Bill's grip, his own hands finding purchase on Bill's knees to spread him wider. The AC chose that moment to kick into overdrive, sending a frigid blast across their overheated skin.
Bill hissed, tightening his grip just to watch John's eyelids flutter. "Cold?" he taunted, dragging his thumb down the vein on John's shaft.
John retaliated by ducking his head, scraping his teeth along Bill's inner thigh hard enough to leave marks. "Just getting started," he promised against the sensitive skin, tongue soothing the sting.
In the apartment below, a TV switched on, the muffled sounds of a game show audience swelling beneath the creak of bedsprings and John's wet mouth working Bill back to full hardness. Bill's head thunked back against the floorboards as John took him deep, the older man's calloused fingers digging into his hips.
The AC whined. The neighbor's dog started barking. John swallowed Bill down to the root and didn't come up for air until Bill was seeing stars.
When John finally pulled off with a wet pop, Bill grabbed a fistful of gray chest hair and hauled him up. Their mouths collided, teeth clicking as John rutted against Bill's thigh like some desperate teenager. Bill broke the kiss first, panting. "This floor's killing my back," he muttered, rolling them sideways onto the pizza-stained receipt.
John laughed — a rasping, wrecked sound — and kicked aside a broken bed slat to straddle Bill's hips properly. His cock stood thick and flushed against his stomach, glistening where Bill had touched him earlier. "Better?" he growled, grinding down just to watch Bill's jaw clench.
Bill's response died in his throat when John reached behind himself, fingers slicking through the mess on Bill's stomach before pressing against his own hole. The sight — John stretching himself open with Bill's own spent cum — made Bill groan like he'd taken a gut punch. "Fucking — do that again."
John obliged, crooking his fingers obscenely as he worked himself open. His free hand braced on Bill's pec, thumb rubbing circles around his nipple. "Want me to ride you?" he murmured, leaning down until his sweat-damp chest hair brushed Bill's skin. "Show you what this old man's still got?"
Bill answered by flipping them, pinning John's wrists above his head with one hand while the other guided his cock to John's entrance. The older man arched his back, taking the first inches with a hiss that melted into a groan as Bill bottomed out.
Outside, a car alarm started blaring. Neither noticed.
Bill set a brutal pace from the first thrust, the ruined bedframe creaking beneath them. John's curses dissolved into choked moans as Bill hit his prostate dead-on with every snap of his hips. "That's — ah — fuck —"
Bill tightened his grip on John's wrists, leaning down to bite at his collarbone. "Told you I wasn't done." His thrusts turned uneven, pleasure coiling low in his gut as John clenched around him. Beneath them, the pizza receipt tore clean in half.
John came untouched, ropes of sperm striping his hairy stomach as his body milked Bill through his own orgasm. Bill collapsed atop him, both men gasping as the AC unit cycled off with a shuddering sigh.
John finally cracked one eye open. "So." His voice was shot. "Are we ordering another pizza or what?"
Bill's laughter shook through both of them. "Depends." He licked a stripe up John's sternum, tasting salt and sweat. "You staying?"
John's grin was all teeth as he pulled Bill back down. "Try getting rid of me."
They lay sprawled on the wreckage of the bed, legs tangled, John's softening cock still dripping onto the torn pizza receipt. Bill traced lazy patterns through the cum on John's stomach, mixing it with the grease stain from the toolbox that had toppled hours ago.
Footsteps thudded up the apartment stairs — hesitant, then frantic, retreating — as another delivery arrived. John chuckled against Bill's shoulder. "I think we traumatized the whole building."
Bill flexed beneath him, muscles shifting under sweat-slick skin. "Good." He rolled his hips experimentally, savoring John's punched-out groan. "Means no interruptions."
The AC cycled back on with a metallic groan, sending a chill across their overheated bodies. John shivered, pressing closer, his calloused fingers skating down Bill's ribs. "Christ, you're insatiable."
Bill caught John's wandering hand, guiding it lower. "You love it."
The older man's laugh was rough as his fingers curled familiarly around Bill's thickening cock. "Yeah." He squeezed just shy of pain, thumb digging into the vein underneath. "I really fucking do."
Their mouths met in a lazy kiss, tasting of sweat and pepperoni and the bitter tang of spent sex. Bill rocked into John's grip, his own hands mapping the older man's body—the silvered chest hair matted against his pecs, the softness of his belly, the way his hips arched instinctively into every touch.
Outside, evening faded into night, neon signs flickering to life across the street. The broken bed frame creaked as John rolled atop Bill, his thighs bracketing those thick hips. "Stay," Bill growled, hands gripping John's ass to grind their hardening cocks together.
John braced himself on Bill's chest, watching moonlight catch the sweat pooled in his collarbones. "Got nowhere better to be." His thumb smeared a drop of precum across Bill's nipple, grinning at the resulting shiver.
The toolbox's spilled contents dug into Bill's back as John rode him slow, savoring every inch. Bill's blunt nails scored red trails down John's thighs — marking what was his. The AC whirred uselessly; they'd burned through its cooling power hours ago.
A distant phone rang — John's work cell stuffed in his discarded jeans. Bill hooked a foot around his ankle, pulling him deeper. "Let it go to voicemail."
John's chuckle turned to a gasp as Bill bucked up hard. "Christ, you're —" The rest dissolved into Gaelic curses when Bill sat up, wrapping a meaty forearm around John's waist to fuck up into him proper.
Their foreheads knocked together, breaths mingling as the pace turned punishing. The pizza box crumpled beneath John's knees when Bill finally flipped them, pinning John's wrists with one hand while the other groped blindly for lube.
"Again?" John rasped, arching as Bill's slick fingers breached him alongside his cock. The stretch burned sweet — John's ragged moan pitched high when Bill's thumb found his perineum.
Downstairs, a startled "What the fuck?!" echoed through the floorboards as the headboard's last intact screw gave way. Bill didn't slow, just locked eyes with John as he came with a grunt, filling him for the third time that night.
John followed untouched, his fractionally softer body trembling through it. They collapsed in a heap of limbs and splinters, the smell of sex and pepperoni thick enough to taste.
Bill nosed at John's pulse point. "Shower."
John groaned. "Tomorrow." His palm slapped damply against Bill's pec. "Move your damn elbow."
A car honked outside. The AC dripped condensation onto the toolbox. Under them, the last intact slice of pizza wept grease into the floorboards.
Bill's laughter rumbled through them both as John's snores started. He tugged a torn sheet over their tangled legs. The broken bed could wait.
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