Neil Perry (
shadows_have_offended) wrote2018-08-25 12:08 pm
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Neil's had enough to drink that it all seems like a good idea, but not enough that he's impaired, that this could be taken as a terribly bad idea. He's had enough that the idea has had time to really seem like a great idea, by the time he pulls his phone out and nervously sends a text. A quiet invitation. Maybe he shouldn't be so bold to assume anything, but he doesn't think he's assuming a damn thing. And, after all, it's not like the text said anything as presumptuous as come over let's fuck--Neil isn't nearly so crass as all that. But it's a clear sort of invitation, in private together.
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The idea of being completely naked right then sounds perfect, and Steve doesn't hesitate before he strips off his own shorts, dropping them at the side of the bed. He curls his fingeres around his cock, squeezing, as he looks up at Neil.
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He wants to put his mouth on him again. The thought of it pushes a low, needy noise out of him.
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Neil's fingers close over Steve's, stroking his cock, and Steve whimpers, turning to catch his mouth in a kiss.
"Any way I can get you back to exactly where you were before?"
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It's not so different as having the thin layers of cotton separating them. He rolls his hips back against Steve a little, leans down and kisses him again.
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Looking up at Neil, Steve squirts some lube into his palm and then reaches around, slicking his own cock and, after a moment's hesitation, letting his fingers stray into the cleft of Neil's ass, getting everything good and slippery.
"You want to do yourself, or...?"
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"Touch me," he breathes, a little quiet and desperate as he moves.
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Steve moves his slick hand around, grazing Neil's hip and then cools his fingers around his cock, starting to stroke him in time with the slow rock of their hips.
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They rock together and it feels even more like fucking, now everything is slick and sliding so easily. Steve groans softly, keeps up the rock of his hips, the slide of his fist around Neil's cock.
"You feel so fucking good," he breathes.
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He squeezes Neil's cock gently, stroking him in time with the rock of their hips, rubbing his thumb over the slick head. He reaches up with his other hand, grabbing Neil's shoulder and pulling him down for a long slow kiss.
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"Shit," he breathes against Steve's mouth. "Shit, I...almost..."
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"Almost what?" says Steve, pretty sure that he knows the answer, but wanting to hear Neil say it, all the same. He strokes Neil's cock with a practiced roll his wrist, getting used to stroking somebody else, getting used to make someone feel else feel good.
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With all the slickness and teasing, the way their hips nudge against each other, he can imagine what it would be like to have Steve inside him. Maybe some other time. If there is another time.
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And it's incredibly, ridiculously, unexpectedly hot, to hear that, to be told that. He keeps up the stroke of his hand, the rock of his hips. He doesn't know if he's far off himself. He lets out a soft groan.
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It's a little bit of a shock, the feeling of Neil's come splashing over his skin, but it's also pretty hot and it doesn't take more than another few thrusts of his hips before Steve's teetering on the edge himself.
"Just..." He swallows, his back arching. "Just need a little bit more."
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He sort of laughs, just a breathless thing, mouth brushing Steve's chin. "If lube didn't taste so weird, I'd blow you again."
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His dick slides against Neil's, and it feels pretty ridiculously good and, for a moment, Steve can't hold a single clear thought in his head. He tilts his head to catch Neil's mouth with his.
"It tastes so freaking gross." He laughs. "Shit. Maybe later."
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"C'mon," he murmurs between smudged kisses. "C'mon, Steve, lemme feel it. I wanna feel you come."
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And it's Neil's voice, Neil murmuring to him like something from a porno that pushes Steve over the edge altogether. He comes, gasping, his mouth crushed against Neil's, trembling and thrusting up towards him.
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When it's done, Steve feels boneless and he makes a soft, contended noise, turning his face towards Neil. "So...that was pretty great?"
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Sometimes it's small things that feel like victories, he supposes.
"It was," he agrees softly. "Though we're both kind of a mess."