Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5401418.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Until_Dawn_(Video_Game)
  Relationship:
      Chris/Josh_Washington, Chris/Josh
  Character:
      Chris_(Until_Dawn), Josh_Washington
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Really_Stupid_Morons, straight_up_smut, I_tagged_underage_but
      they_aren't_like_kids_or_anything_I_promise
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-12-11 Words: 7025
****** Full Homo, Bro ******
by Scribbles_Galore
Summary
     Josh Washington is the most maddening boy alive, and Chris is not
     smooth.
     Also that is the shittiest title I'm so sorry........
Notes
     So this is some of the first smut I wrote, a few months ago.....??? I
     can't believe I'm posting it but I mean hEY WHY NOT RIGHT
     This is set a year or so before the prologue of the game, before
     their senior year of highschool.
It’s nearly midnight, and they can’t stop kissing each other. It’s not the
booze, or the room, or...any reason at all, honestly. This was just something
they did. Had for the past few years. When they were drunk, or bored, or
lonely, they’d make out. No big deal, if you ever asked Josh about it.
“We’re just two bros taking care of each other,” he’d say in that lazy way of
his, kiss-swollen lips pulled in a smirk. “We don’t have to make a deal out of
it. You like the ladies, so do I. No biggie, bro.” It drove Chris nuts. The
casualty of it all. Trying to know boundaries, if there were any rules to it.
He’d seen Josh with girls at parties, draped over his lap, arms twisted around
his neck, gasping into every kiss like he was their only source of oxygen.
He wasn’t jealous, exactly. More...confused. Josh would go into a bedroom, or a
closet, or a bathroom with this girl, come out maybe twenty minutes later
looking satisfied and cocky. But never more than an hour later, he was asking
Chris to leave. They’d pull over on the side of the road and make out in the
backseat of the car, leaving tiny hickeys low enough to be covered by tshirts
at school on Monday. And they never talked about it.
This night wasn’t any different. Chris had joined the Washingtons on a family
trip to their favorite ski resort. Sam was there, too, sharing a room with
Hannah and Beth. They had a whole week here, a whole week to hang out and spend
time with friends before school started. Today had been mostly unpacking from
the long drive, exploring the lodge and surrounding town. Once evening had
fallen, Josh’s parents had left to have dinner with some studio exec friends,
leaving the teens to their own devices. They’d snuck some wine, played card
games in the main room, but eventually they’d all drifted to their rooms to
relax and sleep before their big ski session the following day.
The door hadn’t even closed behind them before Josh was ripping at Chris like a
man possessed. His tongue tasted like wine and Chris could hardly gasp in a
breath before groaning and molding his mouth to Josh’s, awkwardly tugging his
parka off his arms. Josh guided them to one of the queen-sized beds, his cold
hands laying Chris down as carefully as a horny teenager could. They tangled on
the bed for a minute, Josh over Chris, supporting himself on his elbows, their
bodies pressed together. The kisses are deep, slightly rushed. Like he’s been
waiting for this for hours.
“Your lips are so fuckin’ chapped, bro,” Josh grumbles as he pulls away for a
breath, and Chris can’t help but snicker.
“Seriously, dude? That’s your hot line? ‘Chapped lips, dude, let’s make out’?”
“I don’t need lines for you, Cochise.” There’s something weird in Josh’s eyes,
something warm and dangerous. It makes Chris’ throat tighten. “You’re willing
without ‘em.” He presses their mouths together again, and it’s harder, faster.
More teeth and tongue. Josh bites Chris’s lower lip, hard, and the blonde can’t
help but groan. It hurts, but...in a good way. In a fun way.
“You’re so annoying,” Chris grumbles, reaching up to knot his fingers in Josh’s
hair, hold him close so he can soak in as much of this as he can before they
stop and go to bed. Seperately. Because that’s what they always do. He wants to
be frustrated, but he feels Josh’s laughter against his lips, and it fades.
They stay like this for a time, kissing and biting and humming their approval.
He feels a shift, Josh putting all his weight on one arm, leaving his other
free to run his hand along Chris’s side. Chris can feel it burning through his
sweater like flame. It runs over his ribs, to his hip, pauses on a sliver of
exposed skin, then works its way back up. He does this again, and again, every
time lingering longer and longer on the bare skin, rubbing circles into it with
his thumb. He eventually seems to muster up the courage to slide it under the
sweater, grips onto Chris’ ribs, starts to ease the kiss deeper. Chris starts,
pulling his lips away and barking out a shocked, “Josh.”
Josh’s hand leaves him, quickly. It’s always been one of the unspoken rules
about doing this. Clothes stay on, hands stay over clothes. Don’t talk about
it, don’t tell people, don’t be upset if someone (Josh) hooks up with other
people. Rules. Rules are the only thing that has made this something okay for
Chris to handle. It’s not that he always follows rules (God knows, with how
much trouble he and Josh get into), but having rules makes it feel...okay. Like
it’s more than drunken stupidity, less than a hook up. It gives it substance,
even if it’s not enough to really grab. It makes it real.
“Sorry, bro,” Josh says. He’s sat up now, giving Chris space. “Won’t do it
again. I didn’t mean t--well, I did, I just...listen, that’s my bad.” Josh has
never stuttered like this before. Not when they...do this. He’s always so
confident. Like he knows what he wants, and what Chris wants. He’s never seemed
anything less than cocky.
“Nah, dude, it’s fine, I just...I’m ticklish.” It’s a shitty excuse, but it’s
not a complete lie: Chris reacts to being tickled just like a kid does. Ashley
and Sam take advantage of it as often as they can, and Josh always makes fun of
him. So, using it as a cop-out brings a grin to Josh’s face, and then he
snickers. And his laugh is always infectious, so Chris laughs too, which turns
into a snort, and then they both lose it. They giggle like morons, egged on by
one another. They are, after all, best friends.
The laughs crescendo and die down. Josh rubs his hands over his face, one hand
half-covering the grin on his lips, shakes his head. “We should...go to sleep.
We gotta get up pretty early, man.” He moves to stand, and Chris grabs his
shoulder.
“Wait, dude.” They look at each other for a minute, and Chris can feel blood
rushing to his cheeks. “We don’t...I mean, we don’t have to. It’s...I can take
off my shirt. It’s not a big deal.” Wow, does he really sound that stupid? Does
he sound like that all the time, or only when he’s trying to hook up with
people? Jesus. His hand flies up, rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, we’re at
that point that it’s cool, right?”
“The thing is, dude,” Josh’s voice wavers for a second, like he’s trying to
keep it steady under duress, “that I want all of it off.” A breath catches in
Chris’ throat. This is...weird. Not bad weird, just...weird. In most
situations, that is the kinda line that the two of them would make fun of Sam
and the twins for melting over in some movie. That’s something that Josh should
be mumbling in a drunk girl’s ear at a party, not sober, in the dark, on a bed,
to his best friend.
But, goddamn if it doesn’t make Chris horny.
“Uh.” Articulate, dude. “A-alright. Sure.” Trembling hands grab the bottom of
his sweater, pull it up and over his head, almost ripping his t-shirt off with
it. His glasses skew on his face, and he crumples the sweater into a ball,
drops it on the floor before going to fix them.
“Woah, wait, really?” Josh sounds more surprised than Chris, rubbing his hands
on his jeans like he’s trying to get sweat off of them. Chris does that, when
he’s nervous. And now Josh is. Nervous, that is.
“Yeah, man.” Chris starts to lift his shirt. The second it’s over his face, he
feels Josh shift, feels something warm and wet against his chest. A yelp
escapes his mouth. He rips the shirt off, goes to say something, to ask Josh
what the hell that was supposed to be. But Josh claps his hand over Chris’
mouth, and the wild-eyed boy is snickering quietly.
“Dude, shut up! You’re gonna make my sisters investigate, and nobody needs that
to happen tonight.” Josh’s cheeks are flushed. His hand smells like soap and
firewood, and Chris just wants to be sexy. He tries to be sexy. Licks Josh’s
palm. That’s sexy, right? Isn’t it?
It just might be, gauging by the way Josh chokes on a breath, the way his
tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip. If not sexy, somehow stimulating. His
brows scrunch together for a second, his face changing to something between
angry and hungry. “I’m gonna move my hand,” he says after a second, and his
voice is...huskier. There’s no other word to describe it. It sounds like he’s
been smoking, like he just gargled glass and whiskey, and Chris can feel blood
rushing to his junk and fuck is this really gonna happen? “I’m gonna move my
hand, and you’re gonna unbuckle your jeans, okay?” Josh is staring at him,
waiting for some sort of answer, so Chris nods.
Josh’s hand leaves him, and Chris misses it for a moment. But he doesn’t have
time to think about that, not now. Jeans. Off. Gotta do that. He raises himself
up onto his knees, pops the button on his jeans, slides the zipper down. Hooks
his thumbs in the band, ready to tug them off. And he suddenly becomes aware
that he is about to get naked for his best friend. His best friend, who is
currently fully clothed. Chris frowns. “Now wait just a minute,” he grumbles,
and looks up to see Josh staring at the tiny inch of exposed skin beneath his
jeans. His eyes shoot up, and he practically pouts.
“What’s the hold up, Cochise? Finish what you started!” Josh licks his lips,
fixing his bro with a frown. Chris almost forgets why he stopped, staring at
the way Josh’s eyes flash in the darkness. Damn, his best friend really was
hot. He could fully understand why he seemed to pull so much tail.
“Well,” Chris stumbles over his words, flinching when his voice cracks, “I
just...don’t get why you’re still clothed. Is all. I guess.” Jesus, he needs to
work on his bedroom voice. “I mean, I’m about to pull my happy ass out of these
jeans, and you look like you’re about to go on a walk.” Josh smirks--shit,
Chris is officially done for, that grin and those eyes directed at him of all
people--and rest his chin on his fist.
“Aw, dude, I’m sorry. I haven’t even given you a peep show. That’s my bad.” His
chuckle makes Chris’ skin crawl in the best way possible. Josh pulls off his
flannel, casual, easy. This isn’t new to him, Chris finds himself thinking. He
knows he’s hot. He’s gotta. Before he can think on that any more, bitterly or
not, Josh grabs the collar of his t-shirt and drags it off overhead.
Caramel. That’s the only way to describe it. Smooth, warm, caramel skin. He’s
not exactly built, but he certainly isn’t scrawny. He’s...Josh. Just being Josh
is enough to make Chris practically salivate. It’s not like he’s never seen
Josh shirtless before, just...never in this context. A ‘don’t worry about it
bro, we’re just gonna touch each other’s dicks’ context.
“There ya go, dude. We’re even. Any other requests?” Chris lets out an
unintelligible sound, like a garbled hiccup, and flushes darkly.
“Fuck me,” he mumbles. He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, it just
sorta...happens?
“I mean, if you’re cool with that, I will.”
Well then. There it is. Request sent. Chris imagines it popping up in his email
inbox, casual as can be. ‘Josh Washington wants to Fuck You in Your Ass! Accept
Fuck Request?’ Should he accept it? Is that gonna be okay? Will they still be
bros, or will they have to turn into, like...bros-with-benefits? Are they that
already? What if it hurts? What if he really doesn’t like it, will he hurt
Josh’s feelings? He feels like he should’ve been studying up on stuff like
this. Not that he could’ve had any idea, but still...he wonders if taking a
minute and asking to Google ‘how to: gay sex’ will be a total boner killer.
“Chris? Yo, Cochise, bro, you got reeeal quiet, real fast.” Josh’s cocky grin
fades, concern covering his sharp features instead. “Look, I don’t wanna push
you, we don’t--”
“Let’s do it,” Chris hears himself say.
“Woah, wait--”
“No, for real. If...if you’re up for it, so am I. Let’s...let’s fuck, Josh.”
He’s pretty damn impressed that he has enough blood to be both in his dick and
in his face at the same time, considering how hard he’s blushing and still
maintaining an erection. Josh’s face lights up, and he sees his cheeks darken,
too.
“Y-yeah. Alright, dude, yeah. Let’s fuck.” He sounds so...relieved. Chris
swallows, his throat suddenly dry, and Josh grins at him. It’s almost innocent.
Like he just gave Josh a birthday present, instead of agreeing to let him fuck
his ass. No homo, of course. No bromo? He doesn’t even know anymore, he’s just
ready for this moment to end. To kiss Josh again, to build up the tension, to
finally feel some goddamn relief.
“Alright bro, pants off.” Josh gestures to Chris’ jeans, the lazy ease
returning to his grin already.
“Wait, right now? We’re gonna go for it now?” His asshole is definitely not
prepared for that.
“No, dude, course not. I’m gonna warm you up and stuff first. Gotta make you
beg for it, y’know?” Shit, the way he says it so casually...Chris perches up on
his knees again, shoves his jeans down his thighs, then falls back on his ass
to kick them clumsily off his legs. Not attractive, exactly, but whatever gets
the fuckin’ job done at this point. Josh snickers. Smarmy fuck. Chris silently
thanks himself for at least wearing nice boxers.
“Alright, they’re off. Your turn.”
Josh screws his face up. “Bro, take off your socks.”
“What?” Seriously? “No, dude, my feet are cold.”
“Bro. I’m not fucking you if you wear your socks.” They stare at each other for
a long moment. Josh is totally willing to make true on that statement, and
Chris knows it. Begrudgingly, Chris peels his thermal socks off.
“I’mma press my cold-ass feet against your back later, then.”
“Aw, when we’re cuddling, Cochise? Are you a post-coitus spooner?” If it were
possible, Chris would flush darker while he grumbles an embarrassed ‘fuck off’
at his best friend.
“Don’t use that word, dude. It’s gross.” Josh laughs and edges towards him.
That dangerous flame is back in his eyes. He’s practically crawling towards
Chris, and dammit, he looks so fuckin’ good doing it.
“Yeah? What word do you prefer, then? Would you rather I tell you we’re gonna
bang?” He’s over Chris’ legs, grinning that lazy, easy grin. “We’re gonna bump
uglies?” Josh’s knees come down on either side of the blonde’s hips, and he
leans in, nuzzles his face against Chris’ ear. “That we’re gonna fuck?”
Chris, God help him, actually whimpers. He knows Josh hears, and he knows it’ll
be used against him, but fuck if he even cares at this point. Josh laughs, and
brings their lips together. The kiss is unusually gentle, sensual, even. Josh
is a good kisser, always has been. He bites Chris’ lower lip, pulls a groan out
of the blonde, and sweeps his tongue along the other’s closed lips, begging
entry. Chris is only too happy to consent. Their tongues slide together, warm
and wet and if Chris didn’t know it was such a cliche, he’d’ve said that they
danced together.
He can sense Josh’s hunger growing, feel the building urgency behind his
kisses, the way one of his hands slides up to cup Chris’ jaw, fingers digging
hard enough to leave bruises. Josh has never been good at control. He drinks
too much, drives too fast, he says everything that comes to mind. No surprise
he’s the same way in intimacy. Chris doesn’t mind. He slants his mouth open
wider, moans against Josh’s mouth. Feels the way the older boy tenses, the
rumble in his chest. Chris would smirk, if his mouth weren’t otherwise
occupied.
Josh pulls away, just for a moment, then licks a hot stripe from Chris’
collarbone up to his ear, and bites down, hard. A choked out moan jumps from
Chris’ mouth, and Josh’s hand presses over his lips. “Gotta shut up, Cochise,
or someone’s gonna catch us and ruin the fun.” Chris takes a deep inhale, and
nods, fast. He is...so incredibly horny, he’d listen to whatever Josh said at
this point, he just wants to get off. Josh keeps his hand there for a minute or
two, still nipping and kissing at Chris’ neck, stifling a few more groans as
Chris gets used to the sensations. Finally, he moves his hand, and Chris gulps
in cool air.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, his hand inches down Chris’ body, trailing along
his chest, over one nipple (who knew those could be that sensitive? Chris sure
didn’t.), and ghosting along his stomach. Chris feels like he could absolutely
jump out of his skin, if not for the constant jolts of pleasure-pain at his
neck. Josh’s fingers are teasing along the dusting of blonde fuzz below Chris’
navel, tracing down his happy trail, then back up. The younger boy lets out a
quiet whine, and Josh chuckles against his throat before sitting up and
unstraddling him.
“Lose the drawers, Cochise. You’re getting the royal treatment.” Chris doesn’t
bother asking what that means, just lifts his hips and pushes the boxers down.
Josh helps him, tugs them off his feet, and chucks them across the room. He
fixes Chris with a winning smile, then turns his attention down to the newest
addition to the room. Chris looks too, suddenly self-conscious. He’s pretty
average, dick-wise. Nothing to write home about. But it certainly looks quite
proud of itself, jutting up from his body, pink and warm and ready for a good,
old-fashioned fap. (Is it weird that Chris still calls it that? He got stuck on
it. It’s a dick meme.) Josh wastes no time, wrapping a hand around the base and
giving an experimental pump.
“Shit,” Chris hisses, and his hips buck up to meet Josh’s fist. His mouth falls
open, just a little, and he tries to ignore Josh’s giggle.
“Simmer down, there, Cowboy. This isn’t even the best part.” The dark-haired
boy scoots further down the bed, pushes Chris’ knees until they fall open, and
leans down until he’s on his knees and elbows. A light bulb blinks on in Chris’
stupid, horny mind.
“Shit, dude, a-are you gonna...blow me?” It sounds so stupid, but Chris is
surprised. He didn’t figure Josh for a head-giving guy.
“Bro.” Josh’s expression is serious, but there’s laughter in his eyes. “You’re
gonna have my dick in your ass at some point tonight. The very least I can do
is give you some hella good head, don’tcha think?” Chris doesn’t really have a
response, just reaches up to pull his glasses off. Josh grasps one of Chris’
thighs, making him jolt and stare at him quizzically. “Leave ‘em on, man. Enjoy
the show.” He flashes a smile, then bobs his head down to lick a line along the
underside of Chris’ cock, from base to head. Chris slaps a hand over his own
mouth and stifles a groan.
Josh is slow about it, teasing. He pumps his hand up and down Chris’ length,
slow and methodical, tracing veins and lapping at any untouched skin. He takes
just the tip in, swirls his tongue around the head a few times, then pulls off
again, still working him with his hand. Chris is keening and whimpering after
just a few minutes, already feeling like he’s gonna explode. Josh squeezes
lightly at Chris’ base, resting his head against one of Chris’ quivering thighs
and grinning up at his bro, innocent as can be. Once Chris comes down enough,
Josh smears the beading precum with his thumb, then swallows down half of
Chris’ cock in one go.
He’s never gotten head before. Jess offered once, drunk off her ass at one of
the hundreds of parties they’d attended together, and Chris had refused,
choosing instead to herd her over towards Sam and Emily. She’d whined how he
was missing out, and promptly doubled over, almost barfing on the floor.
Somehow, he doubted he was missing too much.
He had been fucking wrong.
Not about getting a blowjob from a drunken ex-cheerleader, of course. About
blowjobs altogether. They were fucking awesome. He felt like his dick was sunk
in a warm, wet cavern, and, gross as it sounded, it felt fuckin’ top. An absent
thought pops into his head, that if Master Chief just got some head, he’d chill
out and stop fucking things up in Halo games.
Josh bobbed his head up and down a few times, pulling a whimpered, “Shit,
dude,” from Chris’ lips, then pulled off completely. Chris stared down at him,
eyes heavy-lidded, mouth gaping open like some sort of stupid fish. Josh grins
at him affectionately.
“You are fuckin’ gorgeous, y’know that?” Josh sounds genuinely enamored. “Sweet
little virgin Chris, getting his first blowjob from a bro. A brojob.” This
makes the brunette snicker, and Chris lets out a half-laugh, but it turns into
a whimpering moan halfway through as Josh pumps him a little faster. “Now, what
would your parents think, hm? Getting your dick sucked by the Washington boy.
Scandalous, scandalous.”
“Well, considering said Washington boy isn’t actually sucking my dick at the
moment?” Chris feels bold for a moment, raises his eyebrows and purses his
lips. “I’d hate for them to hear lies.” Josh, apparently, does not like his
mid-brojob chats to be called into question. He wets his lips, then slowly
slides his lips down around Chris’ length, all the way to the hilt, never
breaking eye contact. He stays there for a moment, breathing through his nose,
then pulls his mouth upwards, hollowing his cheeks as he gets to the tip, then
swallowing back down again. A thought flits through Chris’ mind, something
about gag reflexes and Josh’s impressive lack of one, but it flies away pretty
quickly.
Chris practically has stars in his eyes. His hips buck up to meet Josh as he
bobs down, and Josh makes this...hum. No, this moan, around Chris’ dick,
pausing midway down his shaft and fixing him with a dreamy look.
“You...want me to…? Is that okay?” Chris hates how shaky his voice sounds, but
he forgets about it as soon as Josh nods ever so slightly. He lifts his hips, a
slow thrust, testing the waters, and Josh squeezes his thigh tightly, closing
his eyes. Chris thrusts a little harder, a little faster, and soon he’s
straight up fucking Josh’s face. Which, honestly, will give him fap fodder for
the next 20 years of his life. Not to mention that the older boy is moaning
around his dick with every thrust, little mewling, keening moans. Chris lifts
his hands and takes fistfuls of Josh’s thick, dark hair, angling his head ever
so slightly to get a deeper thrust. He isn’t going to last long, and he knows
it.
“Bro, shit, jesus fuck, dude, I’m gonna--fucking Christ dude, I’m go-gonna--”
He can’t even finish the sentence before Josh is off his dick, tongue hanging
out like an overheating dog, cheeks flushed, lips swollen. A crestfallen groan
tumbles from Chris’ throat and he pushes himself up onto his elbows, brows knit
together. “Dude...what the fuck?”
Josh drags a hand over his chin, wiping off saliva that had dribbled messily
down his face. “No way,” he paused to heave in a big breath, and his crooked
smirk spreads across his face, “are you getting yours when I haven’t gotten a
damn thing.” Chris feels bad almost immediately. In the moment, he’d totally
forgotten that Josh, too, had a dick that was probably throbbing pretty hard
right about now. “So, what we’re gonna do, is I’m gonna prep you, and we’re
gonna get the real fucking started.”
Chris lets himself fall back against the pillows, chest heaving as he tries to
catch his breath. Shit, he hadn’t even thought about that. ‘Prepping’. That had
to happen before anything else, definitely. He thought on it for a moment,
trying to bring himself back from the brink of orgasm. He heard a drawer slide
open, Josh grumbling to himself and rustling around, and sat up with a
quizzical expression. Josh, on all fours, is rooting around in the bedside
table, squinting to see in the dim moonlight.
“Dude, what the hell are you doing?” Chris pulls himself up to a sitting
position (trying to ignore his erection which was fucking difficult at this
point) and crawls over to investigate. Josh tries to shoulder him out of the
way, but Chris just leans over his friend’s skinny arms and cranes his eyes to
see. The drawer of the nightstand is filled with condoms, bottles of (what
Chris imagines to be) lube, and a few little booklets. Chris grabs at one
before Josh can wrestle it away from him, and holds it up to the light. “Bro.
Is this…” It is. A tiny booklet that reads ‘Gay Sex For Morons’. Chris can’t
help but snort out a laugh, and Josh snatches it out of his hands.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up now, but you’ll be grateful for this little thing when
I’m makin’ you scream like a whore.” Josh’s tone is light, and he tries to hide
a smirk by turning away, but Chris nudges him gently, playfully.
“Gee, Josh, you couldn’t sound more like a bad porn if you wanted to.” Josh
snorts out a laugh and rolls his eyes.
“Man, shut up. You are on a one-way street to not getting fucked.” The older
boy finally sits back, a bottle and foil-wrapped condom clenched confidently in
his fist. “Now, listen, what’s gonna happen is this: you, my spoiled little
bro, are going to work me for a while so I remember that you’re worth all this
goddamn effort. Because holy shit, bro, if you don’t touch my dick pretty soon
I may lose my fucking mind.”
Chris feels a ball of guilt in his stomach, though it unknots quickly when he
sees Josh’s grin. He scoots towards him, trying to figure out the best way to
sit so he can touch Josh and also see his face, watch for reactions. But he
can’t just sit there and do nothing while he thinks, or he’ll look like a
jackass. So he reaches for Josh, brings their lips together in a crashing kiss,
and relishes in the surprised purr that Josh makes against his mouth.
Josh opens up easily, dropping the supplies in his hand onto the bed, and
coaxes the kiss deeper, nibbles at Chris’ lip the second he gets a chance to,
snickers when the blonde discovers the slightly bitter taste of his own precum
lingering in the brunette’s mouth. Chris slides his hands along the planes of
Josh’s chest and back, the hot skin all but burning his fingertips. He teases
his fingers along the waistline of Josh’s jeans, slipping a finger beneath the
band then back out again, grinning at the elder’s annoyed whines.
“Either touch my dick or sleep alone, Cochise,” Josh’s voice is heavy with
lust, his fingers digging into the blonde’s hips, “those are your choices.”
Chris says nothing, just kisses him hard and pops the button on Josh’s jeans,
sliding his hand in to cup his...erm, arousal, through his boxer-briefs. Josh
moans loudly into Chris’ mouth, and bucks his hips in response, searching for
friction. Chris’s touches stay featherlight, curious, smoothing over the
unbelievably warm bulge under the cloth. Josh gets fed up with this, quickly,
and rips at his jeans until they come off. “Fuckin’ touch me, Chris. ‘M not
askin’.”
Chris, as best as he can, obeys. He helps Josh pull off his briefs, and allows
the elder to guide him over until he’s straddling his lap. He feels sorta
useless, but this side of Josh is...wow. Who knew such a chill dude could get
straight up Fifty Shades? Ew, well, no, not horrible like that, but...y’know.
Hot. In control. He wraps a shaking hand around Josh's dick, and the brunette
just moans. Unrestrained, unapologetic, just moans, and Chris can actually feel
his cock twitch in response.
“Jesus, dude,” he tries to laugh it off, “I thought we were being sneaky about
this?”
“Fuck being sneaky,” Josh spits out immediately, his head lolling back, “just
fucking touch me, Christopher.” Chris is happy to comply. He strokes Josh’s
dick, and relishes in the choked moans that he seems to milk from him. He finds
a slow rhythm, watching in fascination as Josh pants, groans, every muscle in
his jaw tensing and releasing as the pleasure crashes over him. He leans
forward eventually, resting his forehead against Chris’ shoulder. “Gonna fuck
you like a whore, Cochise,” he’s mumbling, and Chris wonders if he even knows
what he’s saying, “tug your ass up in the air and make you beg, fuckin’ right,
like a goddamn pornstar, like you’re posin’ pretty for the camera, Jesus fuck…”
Chris pumps him twice more, then stops, heart hammering against his chest.
“Well, that all sounds fantastic, so we need to prep me, don’t we?” Josh lifts
his head up off of Chris’ shoulder and blinks a few times, jaw clenched tight.
“Shit, I almost forgot. Good call, Cochise.” Josh’s hand holds him steady when
he goes to move off the brunette’s lap. “No, no, don’t get up on my account.
Stay right there.” Chris does. He stays there, knees on either side of Josh’s
hips, skin pressing against skin, heat radiating off him like a fucking oven.
Josh seems so calm, somehow, despite having been literally falling apart in his
hands just a minute ago. He’s so put together as he pops open a bottle of lube,
squeezing a fair amount out onto his first two fingers. He’s even humming, the
piece of shit.
Chris wonders for a moment if he’s done this before, or if he’s just acting
this calm so Chris doesn’t freak out. Either way, it’s...sweet. He hadn’t
pictured him as a calm, talk-it-through type of sex guy. Not that he’s thought
about fucking Josh, he catches himself, pursing his lips slightly. Just...in
general. He’s an impulse guy. He once tackled Chris off a cliff without
warning. He’d drive to Chris’ house at 3 am on a Wednesday and call him until
he woke up and let him inside. Josh is impulse, and Chris is control. That’s
how they work. But this? Very unlike him. Not in a bad way. Just different. He
feels like he should tell Josh’s therapist, then decides against that. How
would he even broach the topic? ‘Hey Dr. Hill, so I was getting fucked by Josh
in one of our many repressed, homo-erotic escapades, and he was a very gentle
and thorough lover!’ Yeah, not a chance.
Something cold and slimy taps against his asshole, and Chris nearly screams. He
jolts violently, fixing his bro with a bitter stare. Josh, of course, looks
back at him with a barely concealed snicker, and cocks an eyebrow. “Back from
La-La Land, dude? Can we get on to the real party?”
“Yeah, yeah, jackass, just tell me what to do.”
“Well.” Josh is taking too much pleasure in this. It’s making Chris nervous.
And horny. Some-fucking-how. Damn Josh and his great genetics, stupid fucking
carved-from-marble, fuck-you-with-my-eyes piece of shit. “You are going to lay
down, on your front, and shove your ass into the air, like a dog waiting to get
mounted. Then--”
“I can do without the metaphors, thanks.” Chris interrupts. Josh, unfazed,
winks at him.
“Actually, dear bro of mine, that was a simile. Anyhow,” Fuck this stupid
fucking smarmy, full of himself fucking English-class-paying-attention jackass,
Chris just wants to fucking cum already, “while you are in said mounting-dog
position, I will slowly, and gently, prepare your asshole for my meatwand.”
“Dude.”
“Too much?”
“Yes. Way too much.” The laughter bubbles up, natural, easy, but Chris is
highly aware of Josh’s finger still hovering near his asshole. Questions rush
through his mind, double time. Will it hurt? What if he hates receiving, will
Josh wanna switch? Is this gonna happen every time they make out now? How does
this change things? How the fuck is he gonna be able to have Josh’s dick in his
ass and not cum immediately? But, of course, he says none of this out loud,
instead just rolls over onto the bed and sticks his ass up into the air.
Strange, he thought swallowing his pride would taste more bitter.
“Well, well, aren’t you an eager little beaver, huh?” Josh gives Chris’ left
asscheek a fond squeeze, and it makes the blonde jolt.
“I will literally never touch your dick again, Josh. I have no qualms with
that.” Josh snickers, and Chris can feel the bed shift as he makes his way
closer.
“Oh jesus, alright dude, relax. Just trying to keep everything relaxed, that’s
all.” Chris snorts into the comforter.
“Dude, my asshole is so incredibly unrelaxed, that’s why we’re doing this in
the first place.”
“Fair enough.” A hand comes around and cups Chris’ dick carefully, stroking it
slowly. “It’s gonna feel...weird at first. Just let your body get used to it.”
“Yeah, okay, thanks doc--OH.” He feels a prod at his entrance, and he squeezes
his eyes shut, tries to relax and let it happen. Definitely not a normal
feeling. He forces out two fast breaths and tugs at the comforter below him,
pulling the soft cloth into his tight fists.
“Yyyyeah, like I said. Just...try and breathe, and relax for me, yeah Cochise?”
His voice is soothing, timing perfectly with the patient stroking on his cock.
It could almost feel good. “Breathe and relax, there ya go. Lookin’ good bro.”
The tip of the first digit presses inside him, and Josh hums appreciatively.
“Good, off to a good start man.” He presses in, slow, slow, thankfully smooth
from the lube that Josh so liberally applied. It takes time, but he takes the
whole finger, eventually. Josh is still jacking him off with a loose fist,
words practically dripping with lust. “Your ass is, like, super tight, dude. No
homo.”
“Joshua,” Chris knows he’s a little too loud, but he honestly couldn’t care
less at the current moment, “your finger is literally inside my asshole. I
think we’re a little past no homo.” This makes the older boy chuckle, and he
crooks his finger, just a little, to test the waters. Chris gasps, pressing
back onto the finger instinctively. It still hurts, but it felt...good, just
for a second. He can feel Josh smirking behind him.
“Good boy, good boy, you’re doing so good. Just get used to this, alright? We
have all night.”
It takes most of an hour, but he relaxes enough to have three fingers in him,
crooking and sliding in and out ever so slightly. He feels exhausted and on
edge and...proud. Honestly, once Josh had started scissoring two fingers inside
him, he’d been ready to give up completely. It was strange, uncomfortable. But
Josh pressed against his back, whispering encouragement and praise into his ear
(plus getting slowly, teasingly jerked almost the whole time) had been enough
to get him through.
Now it was time for the real deal. He was shaking, just a little bit. Josh had
found what he imagined was his prostate, and had massaged it ever so gently, on
and off for the last 10 minutes, making Chris very aware of exactly how good it
could feel to have something in his ass. Finally, he felt ready to go full homo
with his best bromo (he needed to not think like that, that’s the sort of
shitpost bullshit that had made him unpopular in middle school).
“Alright dude,” Josh carefully slid his fingers out, and Chris feels like
actual jelly. “Think you’re up for it?”
“Yeah, bro,” his voice is scratchy, but he turns his head so he can see Josh’s
face, and offera him a weak grin, “let’s fuck, man. I am getting the worst case
of blue balls from all this waiting.” Josh snickers, and reaches for the condom
he’s set aside, tearing open the wrapper with his teeth and then slowly rolling
it on. “No, but, dude, for real,” Chris wiggles his ass, smirking, “I’m gonna
do this without you if you don’t hurry up.”
Josh grins, but blows out a breath like he’s annoyed. “The mouthiest bottom
I’ve ever fuckin’ met man, and that includes me. Nothing but whine, whine,
whine, bitch, bitch, bitch…” He squeezes out more lube (he’s been very liberal
with it, and Chris silently thanks God) and strokes himself a few times before
inching closer. “Alright. Ready?”
“Ready for your cock, keptin,” Chris braces himself, takes a deep breath and
blows it out slowly. He feels Josh’s hand around his hip, a slow movement.
Something rests against his entrance, hot and slick, and then it’s pushing
inside him and-- “Holy fucking jesus christ Christmas cake sunnovabitch!” It’s
very different. Not really painful, exactly (though there’s some of that too),
but different. It’s hot, for one thing. He can feel the heat inside him, like
he’s burning up from the inside, out. And the stretch is different, not bony
like fingers.
“How ya doin’, dude?” Josh sounds strained, like he’s holding back. He probably
is. Probably just wants to hammer home, drive himself to the quickest climax he
can. But he isn’t, thankfully. Chris nods, then rocks back slowly, and Josh
absolutely fucking sobs. He stays still, though, doesn’t move, doesn’t push
into him or pull back, just stays still. A minute passes in relative silence,
before Chris thinks he can actually speak.
“‘S good,” he mumbles, and rocks back again. The sting is subsiding, giving way
to a feeling of...fullness. And it feels pretty damn good. He pushes back, just
a little, wiggles ever so slightly and hot damn that actually feels pretty
good. He pulls forward, and Josh makes this hiss, this desperate hiss, and
Chris would laugh if he had half a mind to. “Move,” he mumbles weakly, then
pushes back onto his friend’s dick. “Fuckin’ move, man.”
He does. He takes control pretty damn quick, pulling himself out bit by bit and
sliding back inside. Still gentle, always gentle. It feels pretty fucking good,
and Chris whines at him to go faster. Josh seems only too happy to comply. He’s
losing a little bit of his grip, just a touch, and it shows in his noises.
Animalistic grunts and whines, and profanity falling from his mouth like rain.
“Fuckin’ beautiful, that’s fuckin’ Chris, goddamn right, oh, fuck, fuck, I love
this, I love this feeling of fucking you, Chris, you’re so hot and holy shit
dude,” over and over and over, all while his hand strokes the blonde’s dick, in
rhythm with his short thrusts.
Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t take long. They’re both overstimulated and bursting
at the seams. Chris goes first, pressing back to meet Josh’s thrusts, breath
hitching in his throat, and it’s not like any orgasm he’s ever had before. It
tumbles over him like being knocked over by a wave at the beach, all the air
leaves his lungs in one woosh, and he comes all over the bedspread, and Josh’s
fingers. He whimpers and moans Josh’s name, and he’s pretty sure that’s what
kicks Josh over a minute later. He makes a few erratic thrusts, gasps, and he’s
gone, clinging to Chris’s hip like it’s his only anchor to earth. He curses a
little, then pulls out, trying to keep his wits about him before he lets the
warm sand of afterglow to bury him.
He gets off the bed at some point, Chris notices, and comes back with a towel.
Wipes him off carefully, gently, and smirking down at the blonde’s starry-eyed
gaze. “Well, shit, dude, don’t you look like the most satisfied motherfucker
this side of the border.” Chris grumbles at him and sits up, groping around on
the floor for his underwear.
They clean up, vaguely, and eventually collapse on the other bed in a mess of
limbs and sweat. They’re too tired to figure out real sleeping arrangements, so
Chris tucks his head against Josh’s back. Josh is almost asleep when a pair of
cold feet press against his bare back. “Ah, dude, what the fuck,” he grumbles.
“I told you my feet get cold, man.”
~~
The next morning, Chris’ ass is so sore, he doesn’t even want to sit down at
breakfast. Josh teases him about his limp, but doesn’t press too hard. But for
some reason, Sam won’t stop smirking at them.
“Alright, Samantha, what’s up? Why do you look like the cat that caught the
canary?” Josh grouses at her over a cup of coffee. She leans back in her chair,
makes sure Josh’s parents aren’t within earshot, then clears her throat.
“‘Bro, your finger is literally up my ass. We’re past no homo.’” Her impression
of Chris is horrible, but that’s beside the point. Both boys turn scarlet,
shoulders shooting up to their ears. Sam laughs, and fixes them each with a
knowing look. “Try not having your bromance be so loud next time, okay?”
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