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The typically very hectic noise of the apartment has dropped to a quiet murmur.
Scar isn’t ranting about baroque facades to anyone in his nearest vicinity. Mumbo isn’t muttering sensor fusion algorithms under his breath while twirling a pen through his fingers. The charging cords that usually snake hazardously across the floor are out of sight.
For the first time in weeks, the apartment air isn't full of tension and stress from deadlines and four people talking over each other.
The only thing cutting through the peace is the click of Bdubs' keys hitting the kitchen counter.
"God," he groans, throwing himself face-first onto the L-shaped sectional. He presses his forehead into the fabric. "I need this weekend. Nothing happening. No one bothering me."
He really does need the break. His 8 AM ran ten minutes over, making him late to his second class. Directly after classes, his work shift was a constant beratement from customers arguing about refunds like he personally pocketed their money. Every muscle in his body is begging for relaxation.
From his spot at the kitchen counter, Etho looks up from his phone.
"Yeah," Etho mumbles, barely glancing at him before looking back down at the screen.
Bdubs rolls off the couch dramatically, letting his body hit the floor with a thud. The carpet scratches his cheek. He doesn’t move.
"Do you remember what Mumbo and them are doing this weekend?"
He watches Etho scroll. His thumbs move in short, efficient taps.
“Pearl said they would start driving this morning, arrive at the hotel, go to a party and concert tonight, then, if they aren’t too hungover, go hiking tomorrow.”
"Sounds exhausting..."
"Uh-huh." Etho's thumb keeps moving. "I might’ve gone if I didn't have to work tomorrow night. A hike sounds nice."
Bdubs pushes himself off the floor. Crawls across the rug on his hands and knees—no energy left to care about dignity—and pulls himself onto the barstool next to Etho. Their knees knock together. He doesn't bother moving them apart.
"If you want, we can go on a hike, mountain man," he says, bumping Etho's shoulder.
"Tonight?"
"No way." Bdubs tips his head back, staring at the ceiling. There's an unknown stain up there. He's never figured out where it came from, and at this point, he's afraid to ask. "I had classes starting at eight and work right after three of them. I am not leaving this apartment."
"Uh—well." Etho starts fidgeting with his phone on the counter, spinning it in lazy circles. Bdubs watches the motion, mesmerized. "How about tomorrow morning?"
"That works." Bdubs turns on his stool to face Etho fully, hooking his heel on the rung. "But we should do something lowkey tonight."
"Movie and food delivery?" Etho's voice goes up at the end. Hopeful.
Bdubs reaches out and puts his hand on Etho's shoulder. The muscle is warm under his palm, firm.
"It’s like you can read my mind," he says. His voice comes out smoother than he meant it to.
Etho looks back at him and smiles.
He drops his hand and pulls out his own phone. Starts scrolling through delivery options. Thai? Pizza? Burgers?
"I'm not sharing my side with you this time,” Bdubs comments.
"You always say that."
"And I always mean it."
“What about my wings you ate half of last week?”
"Well, that was different."
Etho snorts. Bdubs feels a smile form on his face.
Between their bickering and easy silence, the apartment settles quietly around them. The group chat pings. Bdubs glances down and sees a picture of Scar and Cleo in the hotel pool, both giving thumbs-up, with exaggerated facial expressions.
Bdubs laughs and tosses his phone onto the counter.
One large pepperoni pizza steams on the kitchen counter, three triangular slices missing from the box. Etho took two. Bdubs took one, along with three garlic breadsticks he's already halfway through destroying.
They sit on the living room floor, backs pressed against the front of the couch, plates balanced on the coffee table. An action movie plays—something Bdubs picked after they went back and forth for ten minutes. The volume sits low enough to talk over but loud enough to feel the bass rumble through the speakers.
“This is just what I needed,” Bdubs says, chewing.
“Same.” Etho picks a pepperoni off his last slice. “I’ve been so stressed with homework. I don’t know how many critical thoughts I have left.”
Bdubs chuckles. “Me neither.” He reaches for the remote and turns the volume up a few notches. An explosion comes from the screen that makes Etho jump a bit.
They settle into the movie. Bdubs finds the rhythm of it—the gunshots, the dialogue, the predictable setups. He’s almost relaxed. Almost.
Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Etho’s hand creeping toward his plate.
Not his own plate. Bdubs’ plate.
“Hey!” Bdubs slaps the back of Etho’s hand. “You should’ve gotten your own side!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bdubs. Don’t be so accusatory.” Etho doesn’t even look at him. Just smirks at the TV. Then his hand darts over, snatches the last breadstick, and shoves the whole thing in his mouth before Bdubs can stop him. He chews with a smug look on his face and stands up to carry his plate to the sink.
Bdubs scoffs and follows right up into Etho’s space. His chest is inches away from Etho’s back. “You totally just ate my food!”
Etho turns around calmly. His hands land on Bdubs’ hips like they belong there.
And Bdubs’ breath catches—just for a second, a stupid hitch he hopes Etho doesn’t notice. The warmth of Etho’s hands through his shirt causes him to briefly lose his train of thought.
“Too late to complain,” Etho says.
Bdubs rolls his eyes so hard it almost hurts. “Oh, I’ll complain all night, E.”
“Oh, I know.” Etho’s voice is smooth. Teasing. Unbothered.
Bdubs doesn’t move Etho’s hands. He probably should. But they’ve always fit so neatly there, Etho’s fingers curving just right around his bones.
The silence stretches. Etho cuts it.
"We're missing the movie."
“You’re just trying to change the subject,” Bdubs scolds.
Etho ignores him completely. He gives Bdubs a gentle push sideways and pads back to the living room. He lies down on the bend of the L-shaped couch, the corner where the two sections meet. His head props up against the back cushion. His legs stretch toward the TV.
Bdubs sighs loudly. Dramatically. A sigh that’s supposed to make someone say what’s wrong?
Etho doesn’t look up.
Bdubs sighs again, louder.
Nothing.
Fine. Bdubs grabs a blanket from the wicker basket under the coffee table and settles onto the long section of the couch. He wraps himself up like a burrito, tucking the edges under his legs and chin, and points his feet toward Etho.
“Damn, I should’ve gotten a blanket too,” Etho says. His tone sounds pitiful on purpose.
“Should’ve,” Bdubs says flatly. He wiggles deeper into his cocoon, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders, making a whole scene out of how warm and cozy he is. “Sucks to suck.”
Etho stares at him for a moment. Then he throws himself off the couch—with limp limbs and theatrical groans—stalks to the basket, yanks out a different blanket, and stares daggers at Bdubs the entire walk back to his spot. Are you happy? his eyes say.
Bdubs just smiles.
Etho lies back down with a groan and pulls the blanket up to his chin.
The movie plays on. A chase scene. A shooting. Bdubs watches the characters weave between each other, but his attention keeps flicking sideways.
Etho is on his phone. During movie time.
“Etho!” Bdubs pitches his voice high with mock offense. “Is my movie choice too boring for you?”
“No, your movie choice is fine.” Etho doesn’t look up. His thumbs move across the screen. “I’m just checking something. Don’t worry about it.”
Bdubs kicks Etho’s arm lightly with his foot. A small nudge. “You know I’m going to quiz you on the plot later, right?”
“Uh-huh,” Etho mutters. He rolls onto his side, body facing Bdubs’ legs, phone angled away from Bdubs' view. One hand stays on the phone. The other disappears beneath his blanket.
Bdubs watches the movie for another few minutes. The action is building to a major fight—someone’s about to die, the music is swelling—but Bdubs can’t stop glancing at Etho.
Etho isn’t watching the screen. His body isn’t even facing the TV. His eyes are fixed on his phone. But the way he’s holding it is weird. His thumb isn’t scrolling steadily. It stops every minute or so before repeating. And the screen seems dim in the dark room. Definitely too dim for reading texts or emails.
Movement under the blanket catches Bdubs' eye. Etho's hidden arm. The fabric shifts rhythmically. Subtle. Small movements.
Bdubs’ stomach flips.
Bdubs lowers his voice instinctively. “What do you think about the movie, E?”
Etho’s arm freezes. He drops his phone face down on the cushion. “It’s good. Good pick.”
“Whatcha watching on your phone over there?” Bdubs keeps his voice casual. “Because you aren’t watching the movie.”
The TV flashes bright—an explosion—and in the white light, Bdubs sees Etho’s face. Red. Flushed all the way up to his ears.
“Just random stuff,” Etho says. His voice pitches up like he’s lying.
Bdubs sits up slowly. He lets the blanket fall from his shoulders, pooling at his waist. “Random stuff?” He repeats. “That’s what you called it the last time I caught you looking at something on your phone.”
Etho swallows. “I don’t remember that.”
“Liar.” Bdubs smiles. “You were sitting right there. I walked in from class. You tried to hide your phone in your lap.” He pauses. “You weren’t very convincing then, either.”
The memory flashes between them. Bdubs had pretended not to notice. He just dropped his bag and asked about dinner. But Etho’s ears were pink for twenty minutes, and eventually Bdubs cornered him and asked, point-blank, were you watching porn before I came in? And Etho, god bless him, said maybe like it was even a question.
They’d ended up on Etho’s bed. Hands tangled in each other's hair for at least two hours.
Bdubs pushed the memory aside to focus. Focus on the way Etho’s hidden hand is twitching under the blanket, like it needs to start moving again but can’t.
“Are you sure you’re not watching something interesting?” Bdubs asks, drawing out the last word. He lets his eyes drop to Etho’s waist, covered by the fabric. “Because you look like you’re watching something very interesting.”
Etho follows his gaze. His face gets redder. “I—” He stops. Swallows. “Maybe.”
“Maybe,” Bdubs echoes. He shifts on the couch, sitting up completely, leaning toward Etho, tucking one leg under himself. “Okay. Let me rephrase. What are you watching, and are you touching yourself while watching it?”
The silence that follows is broken by the TV speakers, but the only thing Bdubs hears is Etho’s quick, shallow breathing.
“I saw a video,” Etho admits finally. His voice is barely above a whisper. “On Twitter. Just a clip. And I kinda… got hard.” He pauses. His hand shifts under the blanket. A tiny movement. Testing. “I didn’t want to go to my room.”
“Why not?”
Etho looks at him, and Bdubs feels the answer before Etho says it.
“Because you’re here.”
Heat blooms in Bdubs’ chest. Lowers. Settles below his navel.
“You wanted me to see,” Bdubs says. It’s not a question. “To catch you.”
Etho doesn’t deny it. His hand starts moving again. Slow, deliberate, obvious. “You’ve seen me before.”
“Yeah, but not like this.” Bdubs lets his eyes track the motion of Etho’s hidden arm. The way the blanket moves as Etho’s hips chase his own grip. “Not while we’re supposed to be watching a movie. Not while I’m right here and you’re pretending I’m not.”
“You’re not pretending,” Etho points out. His voice is rougher now.
“No,” Bdubs agrees. “I’m not.”
He leans closer to Etho and hooks two fingers under the closest edge of Etho’s blanket. Doesn’t pull, but holds.
Etho looks down at Bdubs’ fingers with wide eyes. Then back up at his face. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to decide if I should be concerned or turned on.”
“Can it be both?” Etho gives him a half smile, trying to look less embarrassed than he is.
Bdubs lets out a real, genuine laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, it can definitely be both.”
The skip of Bdubs’ heart reminds him of their first time. A party at Pearl’s, months ago. Both of them tipsy, wandering into a guest room to find a phone charger. Bdubs doesn’t remember whose idea it was to lock the door. Just remembers Etho backing him against the wall, kissing him slopily, and Bdubs thinking oh, finally.
They’d hooked up a handful of times since. Always good. Always easy. Always long. Never discussed afterward, which is fine with Bdubs, mostly. They’ve kept it casual.
But this is different. They’re alone. No one to interrupt. No one to worry about.
Bdubs lets go of the blanket and leans back. “Okay,” he says. “You keep watching your videos. I’m going to watch.”
Etho’s hand stops. “What?”
“You heard me.” Bdubs settles against the couch cushion, making himself comfortable. He keeps his blanket over his lap. “I’m not going to touch myself. Not yet. I just want to watch.”
Etho stares at him. “That’s weird.”
“That’s hot, and you know it.” Bdubs grins. “Come on, honey. You already started. Don’t stop on my account.”
For a second, Etho doesn’t move. Then, slowly, his arm resumes its rhythm under the blanket. He doesn’t pick his phone back up. His eyes don’t leave Bdubs’ face.
“There you go,” Bdubs murmurs. He props his chin in his hand, elbow digging into the back of the couch. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“It kinda was,” Etho breathes. But the corner of his mouth twitches.
Bdubs watches Etho’s hips roll into his fist. Watches his thighs tense and relax under the fabric. Watches his breath come faster, shallower. Each exhale a tiny sound that shoots to Bdubs’ dick.
“Fast,” Bdubs says quietly.
Etho obeys.
Bdubs is getting hard just from watching. Only from telling Etho what to do and seeing him do it without question.
“You like watching me, don’t you?” Etho huffs out, breath shaky.
"You know," Bdubs says, keeping his tone light, almost conversational, "last time we did something like this, you came on my stomach."
Etho’s hips stutter. “Okay?”
“Just reminding you.” Bdubs shrugs. “Since you were trying to change the topic again.”
“You’re—” Etho cuts off with a soft grunt. The blanket is doing nothing to hide the motion of his hand now. “You aren’t helping.”
“Help?” Bdubs tilts his head, innocent. “I thought I was just watching you get off in front of me.”
Etho makes a sound—half laugh, half moan—and lets his head fall back against the cushion. His throat is exposed, pale skin flushed pink. Bdubs wants his mouth there. Wants to taste the salt.
Instead, he leans closer.
“Pull the blanket down,” Bdubs says.
Etho's hand pauses. He looks Bdubs up and down through heavy, half-lidded eyes. "You really want to see?"
Bdubs nods. His throat feels dry.
"You have to earn it." Etho is starting to pant, chest rising and falling.
“Huh?”
"Take off your blanket. Your underwear. Your shirt." Etho's voice is quiet but solid. No room for argument. "I'm not putting on a show for someone just sitting there."
Bdubs blinks. Something has shifted in Etho's tone. He’s more demanding.
“Okay,” Bdubs says, and his voice comes out rougher than he expected. “Alright.”
He hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and tugs them off. His cock springs free, half-hard, and the cool air makes him shiver. He pulls his shirt over his head in one motion—freckled shoulders exposed—and throws both onto the floor. The blanket follows. Nothing hides him now.
Etho’s eyes drop. Linger. Come back up.
“Good,” he breathes. Then, softer, “now show me.”
“Show you want?”
Etho bites his lower lip. “Show me pre dripping out of your tip.”
Bdubs swallows back a moan. He wraps his hand around himself—loose grip, barely there—and gives a single slow stroke. His tip darkens, a bead of pre-cum already gathering at the slit. He angles his hips so Etho can see.
“There,” Bdubs huffs. “Happy?”
“Getting there.” Etho’s smile is small. Satisfied.
He shifts his body up, pressing his back against the armrest cushion. His legs drift further apart, an invitation.
Bdubs gives himself a few more strokes until a thick thread of slick travels down his length onto his finger. He holds Etho’s gaze, brings his finger to his mouth, and licks it clean.
Etho pushes his own blanket to the floor in response. Finally. His cock is flushed, leaking steadily, gripped in his fist exactly the way Bdubs imagined. The sight makes Bdubs' mouth water.
“You could’ve just done that from the start,” Bdubs says, watching Etho’s hand move.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Etho’s rhythm picks up, just slightly. His eyes stay locked on Bdubs. On Bdubs’ hand. On his wet tip. “I wanted to see if you’d ask.”
“You knew I would.”
“I hoped you would.” Etho’s voice drops lower.
Bdubs’ stomach tightens with want. His own hand moves without permission—a full stroke—and watches Etho watch him.
“Keep going,” Etho says. It’s not a request.
Bdubs’ hand moves faster. He finds a steady beat, each stroke pulling a soft sigh from his chest. On an upstroke, he squeezes the tip a little too hard and winces. A small, breathy moan slips past his lips.
Etho’s eyes dart to his face. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Just like that.”
They settle into each other’s pace without meaning to. Bdubs watches Etho’s hand move and matches it. Etho watches Bdubs’ hips and matches that. They push up into their own fists together, groaning together, the sound overlapping until Bdubs can’t tell whose breath is whose.
“Christ, ‘Dubs.” Etho’s voice is wrecked. “You’re so hot like this.”
Bdubs wants to say something back. Wants to tell Etho that he’s the hot one. But all he can do is moan.
A loud sound comes from the TV. An exposition. The noise is so jarring that Bdubs flinches, his gaze snapping toward the screen for half a second.
“Hey.” Etho’s free hand lands on Bdubs’ knee. Warm. Grounding. “Keep those sweet eyes on me. Please.”
The word please does something to him. Makes his cock twitch.
“I’ll turn the movie off,” Bdubs says. His voice is steadier than he feels. “I don’t think we’re going to watch it anymore.”
He stretches for the remote on the coffee table. He feels Etho’s eyes on him. He finds the power button and hits it.
The TV goes black.
Silence rushes in. What’s left is their breathing and the slick noise of skin on skin.
Bdubs leans into the cushion and locks eyes with Etho again. He drinks in the sight of his best friend's face as he jerks off next to him. The blush spreading across Etho's cheeks is divine. His lower lip, swollen from biting it.
“Slower,” Bdubs says.
Etho’s hand immediately slows. “Like this?”
“Yeah.” Bdubs watches Etho’s fist drag up his length at half speed. Watches his hips twitch, looking for more. “Now faster.”
Etho speeds up. No hesitation.
“Good,” Bdubs breathes. “God, you’re good at listening.”
Etho’s mouth curves. “Only when you tell me things I want to hear.”
Bdubs laughs. It’s choked and breathless. “Oh yeah? What else do you want to hear?”
“T—tell me I’m pretty.”
The request is unexpectedly vulnerable. It makes Bdubs’ chest ache. “You’re so fucking pretty, Etho.” He gestures with his chin toward Etho’s hand. Still moving. Still obedient. “All spread out for me. Jerking off the way I told you to. Your face is all red, leaking all over your fingers. Your cock is so pretty. You’re pretty.”
Etho whines. His hips buck up into his grip.
“Your turn,” Bdubs says. “Tell me how I look.”
“Ridiculous,” Etho says it like a compliment. “You look ridiculous. Your hair’s getting messy, and you’ve got a concentrated look on your face like you’re solving a problem. And your hand—” He glances down to where Bdubs is touching himself, then back up. “You keep twisting as you go up. You always do that. It drives me crazy.”
Bdubs hadn’t realized he was doing it. Now he does it again, deliberately, just to watch Etho’s eyes flutter.
“That twist?” Bdubs asks.
"Mhm." Etho's voice drops lower. "Slower. Tease yourself."
Bdubs obeys. He drags his hand up his shaft with the lightest pressure. It’s torture. It’s exactly what he wanted.
“Tighter,” Etho says.
Bdubs grips harder. A broken sound falls out of him.
“Stop.”
Bdubs freezes. His hand goes still on his cock. “Etho—”
“Just for a second.” Etho’s voice is steady, but his chest is heaving. “I want to watch you throb.”
Bdubs looks down at himself. His cock twitches with the lack of stimulation. A bead of pre-cum wells at the tip and drips down the side.
“Jesus,” Etho whispers.
“You made me so wet,” Bdubs says.
“Obviously.”
The smugness in Etho’s voice is usually annoying. But it makes Bdubs’ head spin. He starts stroking himself again, not waiting for permission.
“I didn’t say you could start,” Etho says.
“You didn’t say I couldn’t.”
Etho’s eyes narrow. But he doesn’t stop Bdubs. Just watches and matches his pace again.
“You know what I was watching?” Etho asks.
Bdubs nods his head.
“Two guys on the floor, fucking each other.” Etho’s hand moves faster for a moment, then slows. “And all I could think about was you.”
Bdubs’ spine shudders. “Me?”
“Uh-huh. Thought about your voice. Thought about you saying my name. Thought about you begging.”
“I don’t beg.”
“Yes, you do.”
Bdubs wants to argue, but his hand is moving faster, chasing Etho’s words. The image of him begging for Etho makes his grip briefly.
“Don’t stop,” Etho says. “Keep going. You’re doing so well.”
The praise hits Bdubs like a wave. He keeps stroking. Keeps watching. Keeps listening to the wet sounds.
“You’re so pretty,” Bdubs says again, because he needs Etho to know. “Your hand looks so good on your dick. I want to put my mouth there."
“Later.” The word is a promise and a command. “Right now, I want you to slow down. All the way down. Just your fingertips.”
Bdubs obeys with a whine, his fingers barely grazing his length.
“Now tighter,” Etho instructs. “Squeeze the base. Hold it.”
His cock pulses against his palm, desperate for more.
“Good boy.” Bdubs could hear Etho’s smile as he said it.
Bdubs whimpers—high and embarrassing—and drags the sound out just to watch Etho's grip tighten.
“You like that,” Etho observes.
“You like that,” Bdubs shoots back.
"Bdubs." Etho's voice goes soft, almost reverent. "You're gorgeous. So desperate. You're not even close to coming, and you already look like a mess."
“Says you.” Bdubs’ voice is rough. “Your whole hand is wet. You’re dripping everywhere.”
Etho glances down at himself—at the slick coating his fingers, the way his cock glistens. "Yeah," he agrees. "I am." He looks back up, eyes dark. "Come here and help me, then."
Bdubs’ body moves on its own.
He swings a leg over and straddles Etho's hips in one motion, fast and certain. His thighs bracket Etho's waist. His bare cock presses hot, leaking against the front of Etho's boxers.
He looks down.
Etho’s forehead is damp, a few strands of silver hair stuck to the skin. His lips are red, bitten, swollen, parted enough to let out quick breaths. His boxers are pushed down just past his hips, his dick warm and slick where it's escaped.
Bdubs falls onto his lips.
The kiss is immediately messy. Open-mouthed and desperate. All tongue and teeth and the taste of pizza they ate an hour ago. Etho’s hand finds the back of Bdubs’ neck, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. Bdubs whines and licks into him like he's trying to map out the shape of Etho's mouth.
“You taste good,” Bdubs mumbles against his lips.
“You taste like garlic bread,” Etho mumbles back.
Bdubs laughs into the kiss. Etho swallows the sound.
Their hands are everywhere. Bdubs palms at Etho’s chest through his t-shirt, feeling the lean muscle underneath, the hard pound of Etho's heart. Etho's free hand drags down Bdubs' bare back, nails leaving light lines along his spine.
“Off,” Bdubs says, pulling at the hem of Etho’s shirt. “Take this off.”
Etho leans back to grab his collar and peel the shirt over his head. The motion is clumsy. His arms tangle for a second, and Bdubs has to help, tugging the fabric off one elbow.
Etho's chest is bare, pale, and toned. Old scars cross his ribs. A few dark moles scatter across his collarbones. Bdubs wants to put his mouth on every single one.
“Much better,” Bdubs says, hands toying with Etho’s chest hair.
Etho's hands settle on Bdubs' waist, thumbs tracing the sharp points of his hip bones. "You're already naked," he observes. "You could've told me to get this off earlier."
“I like to help.”
Etho huffs a laugh. His gaze drops, traveling down Bdubs’ chest, across his stomach, and lingering on his bare cock where it presses against Etho’s thigh. “So pretty,” he murmurs.
Bdubs shudders. “Trust me, I know.”
Etho’s hand slides around to cup the back of Bdubs’ thigh, fingers digging into the muscle, lifting him up slightly. “Help me get these off too,” Etho says, tugging at the waistband of his boxers still bunched around his hips.
“Gladly.” Bdubs lightly kisses his jaw.
Etho lifts his hips enough for Bdubs to hook his fingers into the elastic and pull. The fabric slides down Etho’s thighs until he can kick them the rest of the way off.
Now they're both bare. Their cocks brush together, nothing between them.
“Jesus,” Etho breathes.
“Jesus,” Bdubs pants.
He rolls his hips experimentally. The drag of skin is electric. He feels every pulse, every ridge, every twitch of Etho’s cock against his own.
“You like this?” Bdubs asks, even though he knows the answer.
“Like it a lot.” Etho’s hands slide up Bdubs’ back, pulling him closer. The heat is overwhelming. Bdubs can feel every tremor running through Etho’s body.
They find a flow. Hips rolling, mouths sliding, hands gripping. But the angle keeps slipping. Their cocks slide apart, losing contact right when Bdubs wants them closer.
“Hold on,” Etho says. “Let me—”
Etho spits in his hand and slips it between them. His palm is warm, already slick, and he wraps his long fingers around both their cocks at once. The stretch of his grip holds them flush against each other.
Bdubs’ whole body jerks.
“Fuck,” he gasps.
“Yeah,” Etho agrees, huffing. His hand squeezes gently, adjusting to find the right pressure. “Better?”
All Bdubs can do is nod. Etho's hand does all the work, keeping them together, guiding the slide of their dicks against each other. Pre-cum makes the glide smooth. Bdubs' hips move on instinct, fucking into Etho's fingers.
“You’re so good at this,” Etho says. “You know that? So good at this.”
Bdubs’ face goes red. “Hmm.”
Etho's free hand tightens on Bdubs' hip, pulling him down harder into each roll. "I mean it. The way you move. The sounds you make. You're—" He cuts off with a groan as Bdubs grinds down and Etho's hand tightens around them. "Perfect."
Bdubs can't take it. The praise. The hand wrapped around both of them. Etho looking at him like he's something precious. He kisses Etho again, deeper this time, one hand fisting in Etho's hair to tilt his head back, the other gripping his shoulder for balance.
Etho moans into his mouth. His hips buck up, pushing his cock harder against Bdubs’. The friction sends sparks through Bdubs’ body.
“I like how you grind on me,” Etho says through a kiss. “Needy.”
Bdubs whines. Etho smiles against his mouth.
“You like that,” Etho says. “Like when I tell you what you are.”
“Don’t be smug.”
“Can’t help it.” Etho squeezes them together again. “Not when you sound like that.”
Bdubs drops his forehead to Etho’s shoulder. He’s shaking. Every nerve is on fire.
“Look at me,” Etho says softly.
Bdubs lifts his head.
Etho looks wrecked. Cheeks blushing, eyes dark, lips kiss-swollen. He looks exactly like Bdubs feels.
"You're beautiful," Etho groans.
Bdubs shakes his head.
"You are." Etho's thumb—the one wrapped around their cocks—swipes over both their tips, spreading the wetness. "So beautiful. And you're all mine right now."
Mine goes straight to Bdubs' cock. He rocks harder into Etho's grip, faster, chasing the friction.
"Hey." Etho stills Bdubs' hips with his free hand. "Hey. Slow down."
"But—"
"I know." Etho presses a soft kiss to the corner of Bdubs' mouth. "I know. But I want to feel you. Keep it slow."
Bdubs takes a shaky breath. Nods.
They slow down together. The frantic pace turns into something deeper. Longer rolls of the hips. More pressure. More intention.
“Stunning,” Bdubs says. He cups one hand to Etho’s jaw, forcing eye contact. “Your skin is so soft. I want to put my mouth all over.”
“I’m not stopping you.”
Bdubs ducks his head and presses his lips to Etho’s shoulder. Kisses across his collarbone. Trails down his chest. Tastes salt and skin. Feels Etho’s breath hitch with every touch.
"Bdubs—" Etho's hand cradles the back of his head while the other keeps stroking them. "Bdubs."
“I’m here.” Bdubs kisses lower, over Etho’s sternum, down his stomach. He feels his muscles react to his lips. “I’ve got you.”
He sits back for a moment. Just to look. Etho is spread out beneath him, chest heaving, dick flushed, fist covered in the mess of both of them, eyes fixed on Bdubs' face.
“You're really hard,” Bdubs points out.
“You noticed.”
Bdubs grins. “I really want to put you in my mouth.”
Etho inhales sharply. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Bdubs runs a finger along the back of Etho’s hand, where it’s wrapped around both of them. “I want to taste you. Make you fall apart.”
Etho's hand loosens and falls away, leaving their cocks to rest side by side against his stomach. "Aha—I’d like that. A lot."
“Say please,” Bdubs commands.
Etho’s eyes narrow. His voice comes out raw. “Please, Bdubs.”
Bdubs leans down and kisses him one more time, softly. Then shifts back and plants between Etho’s thighs, face inches from his length, gazing up at him.
“Good boy,” Bdubs whispers.
Etho’s whole body goes tight, then relaxes into the couch as he lets Bdubs take control.
Bdubs settles himself more comfortably between Etho’s legs. Etho’s cock is flushed red and curving toward his stomach, the tip glossy and wet.
He takes his time. Lets his eyes trace the length of it. Watches Etho’s muscles jump with every shallow breath.
“So nice,” Bdubs hums. He reaches out and runs one finger from the base to the tip, as light as possible. Etho’s hips jerk. “Long and pretty. It fits so perfectly in my mouth, doesn’t it?”
“‘Dubs—”
“Shh.” Bdubs leans down and presses his lips to the inside of Etho’s thigh. Right where it’s sensitive, but not where Etho wants it to go. His lips leave soft, closed-mouth kisses against the pale skin. “I’m going to take my time.”
Etho lets out a half groan, half whimper, and lets his head fall back against the cushion from the pleasure.
Bdubs kisses higher. His mouth trails up Etho’s thigh, leaving a damp track behind. He can feel the muscle shake under his lips. When he reaches the crease where thigh and hip meet, he pauses. Looks up.
Etho is watching him intently. His chest is rising and falling heavily. His hands are gripping the edge of the couch cushion like he’s holding himself back from reaching down and grabbing Bdubs’ hair.
“You can touch,” Bdubs whispers into his hip. “I won’t bite. Unless you want me to.”
Etho’s laugh is breathless. Broken. One hand comes up and rests on the back of Bdubs’ head, fingers weaving through his hair. Not pushing, just resting.
Bdubs dips his head and presses a kiss to the base of Etho’s dick. Etho gasps. His fingers tighten in Bdubs’ hair.
“Easy,” Bdubs says. “I’ve got you.”
He kisses up the shaft, slow and set, his lips dragging along the underside. He can taste salt. Can smell the sharp, clean scent of Etho’s skin. When he reaches the head, he stops. Flicks his tongue out—just the tip, just a whisp—against the slit.
Etho’s whole body arches off the couch.
“Shit, Bdubs.”
He does it again. Slower this time. He circles the head with the flat of his tongue, collecting the pre-cum that’s gathering, and lets out a hum of appreciation. The vibration makes Etho’s thighs clench on either side of him.
“You’re dripping,” Bdubs says, pulling back to look up. “I could do this all night.”
Etho’s face is pink all the way to his ears. “You’re killing me.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” Bdubs grins
“You can’t say anything about being dramatic—”
He takes Etho into his mouth, cutting off his sentence, replacing words with moans
Starting with the head, he wraps his lips around it, tongue pressing against the ridge, and sucks gently. Etho’s slender dick slides in easily—not too thick to manage, just right for Bdubs. Etho’s hand slightly tightens in his hair. The sound he makes is vulgar. Deep and desperate. Nothing like the quiet, controlled Etho from ten minutes ago.
Bdubs sinks lower. An inch. Then another. He’s careful. Teeth tucked behind his lips. Tongue flat against the underside. Working in small increments. His length is impressive. Bdubs has to relax his throat to take more; when he does, Etho lets out a moan that vibrates through his whole body.
“Easy,” Etho gasps, echoing Bdubs’ words back to him. “Easy, you don’t have to take it all—”
Bdubs pulls off with a wet pop. “I know what I’m doing,” he says. His voice is a little hoarse. “You should know from experience. Let me.”
Etho nods. Swallows. His hand stays on Bdubs’ head, thumb stroking behind his ear.
Bdubs goes back down. He takes more this time. He’s faster. Rougher. Etho hits the back of his throat. His nose brushes the base of Etho’s stomach and stays there for a moment. Throat working around the intrusion, before pulling back with a gasp.
“Holy,” Etho breathes. “Your throat—fuck, Bdubs—”
Bdubs works his mouth around him again. He finds a good pace. Down, up, down, up. Each stroke is a little faster than the last. His hand wraps around what he can’t fit, twisting in time with his bobs. Saliva drips down his chin.
Etho is moaning. Not loud—Etho is never too loud—but constant. A low stream of sounds spills out of him. His tips twitch, wanting to thrust up, but he holds himself still. Lets Bdubs set the tempo.
“You’re so good at this,” Etho gasps. “So good. Your mouth was made for this.”
Bdubs pulls off again to breathe. His lips are slick. His jaw aches. He loves it.
“Really?” He says sarcastically, and smirks at Etho before going back down.
This time, he’s rougher. He takes him deeper, faster, not stopping when his throat protests. He hollows his cheeks on the upstroke and sucks hard. Etho’s hips finally buck, just one small thrust, before he catches himself.
“Sorry,” Etho pants. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
Bdubs pulls off and shakes his head. “Do it again.”
“What?”
“Use my mouth.” Bdubs’ voice is scraped raw. “I want you to. Don’t hold back.”
Etho stares at him. His eyes are wide, longing. “Bdubs—”
“I mean it.” Bdubs kisses the head of Etho’s cock. Soft and sweet. “I want you to take what you need. Be rough with me.”
Something shifts in Etho’s expression. His careful restraints crack. His hand isn’t resting anymore; it’s gripping.
“Yeah?” Etho asks.
“Promise.”
Bdubs opens his mouth, tongue out, and Etho pushes in.
Etho sets the pace. Quicker. Harder. Hips rolling up into Bdubs’ throat. His jaw goes slack. He breathes through his nose. Lets himself be used. Tears slip down his cheeks. Saliva drips down his jaw.
“Wow,” Etho exclaims. His voice trembles. “Taking all of me. You’re so handsome like this. So eager.”
Bdubs whines around him. The vibration makes Etho’s rhythm stutter.
“That’s it—That’s it, just like that. You’re doing so well for me.”
Bdubs pulls off abruptly, gasping for air. A string of saliva connects his lower lip to Etho’s tip. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, mouth curling wildly.
“Need a break?” Etho checks, breathless.
“No.” Bdubs shakes his head. He reaches down and cups Etho’s balls gently, rolling them in his hand. “Want to give you something.”
He leans down and takes one of Etho’s balls into his mouth, sucking softly. Etho’s body jolts.
“Okay—Bdubs—”
Bdubs purrs around him, then pulls off to speak. “Like when I pay attention to every part of you?”
“Y-yes—”
He repeats the action. He sucks Etho’s balls into his mouth one at a time, lapping his tongue over the sensitive skin, while his hand keeps stroking Etho. High, breathy little gasps tumble out of Etho.
“You sound hot. Love how you fall apart for me.”
Bdubs runs his mouth back down to Etho’s inner thigh. He presses his mouth against the thin skin again. But this time, it’s not teasing kisses. He sucks hard, lips sealed against the skin, tongue pressing into the delicate flesh. Etho yelps, hand flying to Bdubs’ shoulder.
“What are you—” Etho gasps.
Bdubs pulls back to look at the mark he’s left. A dark red bruise is already blooming. He grins.
“For later,” he says.
He does it again on the other thigh, closer to where Etho really wants his lips to be. He sucks until he tastes copper. Until Etho is squirming. Until the sounds coming from Etho are barely words.
“Bdubs—Bdubs, please.”
“Please, what?” Bdubs releases the second hickey and admires his work. The two purple marks are stark compared to the pasty white skin. “You were saying?”
Etho makes a sound between a laugh and a sob. “Please put your mouth back on me.”
“Since you asked so nicely.”
He kisses his way back up the cock. Smelling Etho’s musk. He wraps his lips around the head. Sucks gently, teasing, while his fingers continue to roll Etho’s balls.
“You’re close,” Bdubs observes, getting a breath of air. He can feel the way Etho’s cock pulses against his tongue, and his hips are losing rhythm.
“Yes,” Etho gasps. “Yeah, I am—”
“Do you want to finish in my mouth?”
Etho’s body goes rigid. His eyes screw shut. “Damn, Bdubs, if you keep talking like that—”
“Answer the question.”
“Yes.” The word rips out of Etho. “Yes, I want to come in your mouth. Feel you swallow me—”
Bdubs doesn’t let him finish. He takes Etho deep—all the way until his nose is buried in the coarse hair at the base—and swallows around him.
A series of high and broken sounds escapes Etho as he comes. His hips buck up. Once. Twice. Bdubs holds it. Takes it. Swallows everything. Etho’s hand is fisted in his hair, pulling hard enough to sting, but Bdubs doesn’t pull away.
He stays there until Etho stops shaking. Until the hand in his hair loosens. Until the only sounds in the room are ragged gasps.
Then he pulls off, slowly.
He keeps his mouth closed for a moment. Lets Etho wonder. Then he opens his mouth. His tongue is flat, clean. No trace of white. He swallowed every bit of it.
Etho stares. His chest is still heaving. Sweat glazes his face. The marks on his thighs are deepening.
“Holy shit,” Etho whispers. His voice is shot. Ruined.
Bdubs closes his mouth and gives a goofy grin. “Good?”
“Very good,” Etho says, reaching down and pulling Bdubs up by his shoulders. “Come here.”
Bdubs lets himself be manhandled up to his chest. Their skin is sticky and warm. Etho’s large arms wrap around him, and Bdubs buries his face in the crook of Etho’s neck.
“You’re unbelievable sometimes,” Etho mutters into his hair. “You know what?”
Bdubs shivers. “I do.”
They lie there for a moment, catching their breath. Bdubs feels Etho’s heartbeat slow back to a regular beat. He can feel his own cock, still hard, leaking against Etho’s thigh. The need hasn’t gone anywhere. If anything, sucking him has only made it worse.
But he waits. Lets Etho calm down.
Eventually, Etho shifts. His hand slides down Bdubs’ back, over the curve of his ass, fingers massaging into the muscle there.
“You’re still hard,” Etho notes.
“How observant,” Bdubs says. “Good thing we aren’t done yet.”
“Hmm?” Etho’s breath catches.
“I said.” Bdubs places a hand on Etho’s leg and spreads them apart. “We aren’t done yet.”
Bdubs presses his face forward, bumping their noses together. “I want to fuck you. Want to feel you come around me.”
Etho’s eyes widen as Bdubs kisses his jaw. He moves his lips upward until he’s right next to Etho’s ear.
“Oh, o-okay.” Etho murmurs.
“Roll over,” Bdubs whispers.
Etho ends up on his stomach, face half-buried in the couch cushion, legs slightly parted. Bdubs stares at him. Stares at the broad sweep of his shoulders. The taper of his waist. The blossoming bruises on his thighs.
“What a view,” Bdubs whines.
Etho hums into the cushion.
Bdubs runs his hands down Etho’s back, feeling the bumps of his spine, the muscles tensing at the contact. He presses his thumbs into his lower back and feels Etho loosen under his touch. He moves Etho’s thighs further apart, spreading him open. Bdubs presses more kisses to the warm skin below his balls. Then lower. His tongue darts out, tracing a wet line down his entrance.
“Oh,” Etho cries. “Oh, you want to—”
“I’m going to eat you out first,” Bdubs says. “Get you wet. Open you up with my tongue. Then fuck you until you forget your own name. That okay?”
“Uh-huh.” Etho shudders. His hips press back, seeking contact.
Bdubs doesn’t make him wait. He can’t. He leans in hungerily, flattening his tongue against Etho’s hole in a long stroke. Bdubs groans into the taste of Etho like he’s been starving.
“God,” Etho heaves, fingers grasping into the cushion. “Bdubs—”
His words feed Bdubs’ thirst. He licks him with broad, messy strokes. He presses his tongue flat, then points, then flat again. His own hips grind into the couch, seeking friction.
“Please,” Etho pants.
Bdubs pulls back just enough to press a kiss to the swell of Etho’s ass. Soft. Worshipful.
“You have no idea,” Bdubs murmurs. “How good you look lying there. Taking it.”
Bdubs kisses lower. Then higher. He peppers kisses across both cheeks, up Etho’s lower back, down his thighs. Some are soft—barely touching, a whisper. Some are harder—open-mouthed, teeth grazing, leaving red marks that will fade by tomorrow. He can’t stop touching. Can’t stop tasting.
“Beautiful,” Bdubs says, kissing the dip of Etho’s spine.
He spreads Etho’s cheeks open with both hands and licks. Deeper this time. His tongue pushes past the tight ring of muscle, and Etho whines, his body arching into the couch.
“More,” Etho begs. “Please, Bdubs, more—”
Bdubs groans against him. The vibration travels to Etho’s shaky thighs.
But then he stops.
“S-shit,” he breathes.
Etho lifts his head and looks behind, blinking. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just—” Bdubs sits back on his knees, running a hand through his hair. His chest is heaving. Cock leaking. “I need to grab lube.”
Etho stares at him. “Be quick.”
“But you look so good right now,” Bdubs praises, voice high and whiny. “I don’t know if I can leave.”
“Just go get it,” Etho groans. “I’m not leaving.”
Bdubs taps Etho’s back before scrambling off the couch so fast he nearly trips over his own feet. His bare legs are unsteady, his cock bobbing as he stumbles toward the hallway. He looks back over his shoulder.
Etho hasn’t moved. He’s still on his stomach, spread open, flushed. Still waiting. He raises one eyebrow.
“Tick tock,” Etho calls.
“You’re so annoying,” Bdubs shouts back, already at his door.
Bdubs yanks his nightstand drawer, grabs the half-empty bottle of lube. He shuffles back to the living room and throws himself onto the couch behind Etho.
“Back,” Bdubs pants.
“Hurry up. I've been waiting for a whole twenty-six seconds.”
“You counted?”
“I got bored.”
Bdubs rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he says.
Etho whines and pushes his hips back.
“I know,” Bdubs soothes, even though his hands are shaking. “I know. I’m almost there.”
He pops the lube open and puts a glob onto two fingers. With one hand, he spreads Etho open, and with the other, he presses the wet fingers into his entrance. Slowly. Carefully. Imagining every expression on Etho’s face as he pushes inside.
“Fuck,” Etho chokes.
“That’s it, baby,” Bdubs says, voice cracking. “You’re so tight.”
He works his fingers deeper. Twisting. Scissoring. Etho is so tight, but he’s opening up. Pushing back onto Bdubs’ hand like he can’t help himself.
“I need—” Etho whispers. “Need you inside me. I need your cock. Please, B, please—”
The words make Bdubs’ hips jerk forward involuntarily, cock pressing against Etho’s thigh.
He curls his fingers, searching, and finds the spot that makes Etho cry out and buck backward. “There.”
“There,” Etho echoes, voice breaking. “Right there, don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. He presses against the spot again and again, watching Etho unravel beneath him. Etho’s hands are white-knuckled on the cushion. His face is buried, but Bdubs can hear every sound. Every gasp. Every moan. Every whimper.
“I want to fuck you so bad,” Bdubs admits, voice low.
Etho sobs.
Bdubs pulls his fingers out slowly, watching Etho’s hole clench around nothing. He kisses Etho’s hip softly, then his lower back, harder. Kisses the space between his shoulder blades. Each kiss is a little desperate.
“Ready?” Bdubs asks, even though he’s not sure he’s ready himself.
“Yes,” Etho pleads. “Yes, yes, yes—”
He positions himself behind Etho, the head of his cock pressing against that slick, waiting entrance. He’s leaking even more. The wet slide of his tip against Etho’s hole makes them both moan.
He leans forward, chest to Etho’s back, and presses a desperate kiss to the side of Etho’s neck.
“So pretty,” Bdubs whispers. “So pretty, all spread open for me.”
Etho turns his head to meet Bdubs’ eyes. His face is completely wrecked.
“Fuck me,” Etho begs.
Bdubs doesn’t need to be told twice. His body is already moving. His shaky hands settle on Etho’s hips. The skin is hot, damp with sweat, and Bdubs can feel the tremor running through Etho’s thighs.
But he doesn’t rush.
He presses the head of his cock against Etho’s entrance. Just the head, just the first inch. And stops. The sensation is overwhelming. Etho is slick from Bdubs’ mouth and the lube, but the tightness is too much. Bdubs has to close his eyes for a second to catch his breath.
Etho tightens beneath him.
“Okay?” Bdubs asks. His voice comes out raw.
“Yeah.” Etho’s breath hitches. “Just—slow. Go slow.”
Bdubs pushes in inch by inch. The resistance is perfect. Etho clenches around him, pulling him in, fighting and welcoming him in at the same time. As he gets deeper, it drags sounds out of both of them. Etho’s is a high, keening whine. Bdubs’ is a low, desperate groan.
He has to stop more than halfway. His hips freeze. His hands grip Etho’s waist hard enough to bruise. His forehead drops to Etho’s shoulder blades.
“Shit,” Bdubs breathes. “You’re so—I can’t—”
He can’t finish the sentence. Can’t even form words. Etho is so hot and tight, clenching around him, and Bdubs is already afraid he’s going to come too fast.
Etho’s hand reaches back, groping blindly to find Bdubs’ forearm. His fingers wrap around Bdubs’ wrist. I’m here.
“You’re doing so good,” Bdubs murmurs against Etho’s skin. He presses more kisses to Etho’s back. “Just a little more.”
Etho nods into the cushion. His whole body is vibrating. His hips are shaking. His thighs pressed together are shaking. It’s perfect.
Bdubs pushes deeper. Slow. Careful. Watching Etho’s face as much as he can from this angle.
“Feel so full,” Etho slurs. His voice is floaty. “So—fuck, Bdubs.”
“I know.” Bdubs pushes the rest of the way in until his hips are flush against Etho’s ass. The heat is deep and pulsing. Bdubs stays there, buried to the hilt, and lets them adjust. “Just breathe, honey.” He’s talking to both of them.
Etho’s breath comes in ragged gasps. His chest heaves.
“You okay?” Bdubs asks. He runs his palms up and down Etho’s sides, soothing, grounding.
“Yeah.” The word comes out cracked. “Yeah, I’m… I’m okay. Please just move.”
The pleading makes Bdubs’ head spin.
He pulls out slowly. Only a few inches. Enough to feel the drag of Etho’s body resisting him. He pushes back in. The sensation is intoxicating. Etho’s heat. His tightness. His gasps. His hips trying to push back even though Bdubs is as deep as possible.
Bdubs finds a rhythm. Steady and deep. Each stroke is deliberate and measured. He plants his hands on either side of Etho’s head, bracketing him, and leans down so his chest is almost touching Etho’s back.
“Feel good?” Bdubs’ mouth is right next to Etho’s ear.
Etho’s hips start pushing back, meeting Bdubs halfway, matching the beat. “Faster. Come on, Bdubs, faster—”
He can tell Etho is getting impatient with all his check-ins. Bdubs speeds up, but not too fast. His thrust makes the couch creak beneath them. The wet sounds of their bodies fill the room.
“That’s good,” Etho’s voice is muffled by the fabric. “So good. Don’t stop.”
He leans down further, chest pressing flush to Etho’s back, and starts kissing whatever he can reach. The back of Etho’s head. His hair is soft against Bdubs’ lips. The curve of his ear. The sweat-damp skin of his neck.
“You feel incredible,” Bdubs pants roughly. “So tight. So warm. I could stay inside you forever.”
Etho makes a high and broken sound. It’s punched out of him by a particularly deep thrust. His hand reaches back, grabbing Bdubs’ hip, pulling him in.
“Right there, don’t move, right there—” Etho gasps.
Bdubs stops moving. He stays buried deep, grinding in small circles instead of thrusting. He lets the pressure build in a different way. The body under him convulses.
“Oh,” Etho hisses. “Oh, fuck—”
Bdubs grinds harder. Slower. He can feel everything. The flutter of Etho’s muscles around him. The air leaving his lungs is desperate and needy.
“You like that?” Bdubs’ voice is low, rough, barely under control. “You like when I grind into you? When I don’t even pull out?”
Etho nods frantically.
Bdubs starts thrusting again. Harder this time. Each thrust is rougher than the last, less controlled, more desperate. He isn’t trying to be gentle anymore. Etho doesn’t want gentle.
Etho’s cock, trapped between his stomach and the cushion, drags against the fabric with every push. Bdubs can feel the friction, can imagine how it must feel—rough but not enough.
“I’m hard again,” Etho says, like he’s surprised by it. His voice is muffled, breathless. “‘Dubs, I’m so hard—”
“Yeah?” Bdubs snaps his hips forward, watching the way Etho’s body absorbs the impact. “You like being under me? Taking my dick?”
Etho moans loudly. Shamelessly. “Yes. Yes, I—”
He turns his head, trying to look back. His eyes are glassy and unfocused. “I want to see you.”
“See me?”
“Your face,” Etho huffs. Bdubs is still moving inside him. “I want to see your face. Turn me over.”
Bdubs pulls out slowly—too slowly, going off Etho’s whine—and they both fumble. It’s awkward. Etho’s long limbs don’t fit super well on the couch, and he nearly slides off the edge. Bdubs grabs his hip to steady him. Etho laughs, breathless, and shoves a throw pillow that’s somehow ended up under his shoulder.
“Clumsy,” Etho mutters with a smirk.
“You almost fell off, you know?” Bdubs chuckles back.
“And you pulled out too fast,” Etho comments.
“I pulled out like you asked me to.”
Etho opens his mouth to argue, but Bdubs thumbs over his hip bone, fuzzing Etho’s mind and dissolving any comebacks.
They manage. Etho ends up on his back, head on the same cushion he started, hair spread out. Bdubs settles between his legs, knees digging into the couch, and Etho hooks his long legs around Bdubs’ waist.
The change in angle pulls them closer. Etho’s heels press into the small of Bdubs’ back, forcing him forward until their chests are nearly touching, until Bdubs can feel every breath Etho takes.
“Like this,” Etho says softly. It's ragged but certain. “I want you like this.”
Bdubs looks down at him. Etho’s face is blushing. His lips are parted. His eyes are hazy and fixed entirely on Bdubs.
Bdubs aligns himself with Etho’s ass again, pushing all the way in. He stays still inside, just feeling the flutter of muscle around him.
“You’re so beautiful,” Bdubs grunts.
Etho’s hand comes up to cup Bdubs’ jaw, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “Then kiss me.”
Bdubs leans down and captures Etho’s mouth in a deep, slow kiss. Their tongues twist together. Etho kisses him back fiercely. His fingers tangle in Bdubs’ hair, pulling him closer. His other hand presses flat against Bdubs’ back, nails digging in.
“Move,” Etho says against his lips. “I really, really need you to move.”
Bdubs grins. It’s shaky and probably looks crooked. He doesn’t care. He starts to thrust.
The first few strokes are teasing. He watches Etho’s brows furrow, watches his mouth fall open, watches his lashes flutter.
He’s looking for something.
And he finds it.
Etho’s whole body arches off the couch. A cry tears out of his throat—loud, shameless. His heels dig harder into Bdubs’ back.
He pounds it spot repeatedly, watching Etho come apart beneath him. Etho’s hands grab onto anything they can find—Bdubs shoulders, the couch cushion above his head, his own hair. His mouth opens in a silent scream that turns into a string of moans.
“That's it,” Bdubs groans. “That’s it, baby, let me hear you.”
Etho moans. Then again. His hips buck to meet every thrust, chasing the friction.
Bdubs fucks him harder. The couch shakes. The legs scrape the floor. Etho’s hand drops to his own dick, wrapping it around, stroking in time with Bdubs’ thrusts.
“God,” Bdubs breathes. He can barely get the words out. “Jerking yourself off while I fuck you. So needy.”
Etho gasps on empty words.
Bdubs feels himself getting close. He can tell Etho is, too. But Bdubs doesn’t want this to end.
“Not yet,” he says, reaching down to still Etho’s hand. He wraps his fingers around Etho’s wrist and pins it to the couch cushion. “Hold on. Not yet.”
“Bdubs—” Etho whines.
“I know. I know.” Bdubs leans down and softly kisses him, completely at odds with how rough he’s still thrusting. “Just wait.”
Etho’s eyes screw shut. “You’re—god—you’re going to kill me.”
“Yeah,” Bdubs agrees, kissing his neck, sucking a fresh mark below his ear. “But you’re gonna enjoy it.”
Etho’s chest is heaving. His cock is flushed and leaking, bobbing with every thrust, smearing pre-cum across his stomach.
Then Bdubs stops. Pulls out entirely. Etho’s hips chase him instinctively, trying to pull him back in, and Etho reaches down between them, fingers brushing Bdubs’ thigh.
“Don’t,” Etho says, voice cracking. “Don’t stop, I was so close—”
“Floor,” Bdubs says.
Etho blinks. The needy haze in his eyes clears enough for confusion to slip through. “What?”
“We’re moving to the floor.” Bdubs is already pulling back, reaching for Etho’s hand, tugging at his wrist. “The couch is terrible. It’s too small.”
“I’m fine—”
“Stop,” Bdubs tugs harder. “Come on. Up. Floor.”
Etho groans but lets Bdubs pull him upright. They separate completely. Bdubs throws his legs over the edge of the couch and stands on shaky thighs, reaching down for Etho's hand. Etho takes it. They fumble. Bdubs nearly trips over the coffee table—his bare foot catches the leg with a sharp clunk—and he has to grab Etho's arm to keep from face-planting onto the rug.
“Smooth,” Etho teases.
“Shush.”
Etho lowers himself onto the rug. The texture is scratch against his back, but he doesn’t seem to care. He lies back, looking up at Bdubs through fluttering eyes. His hair is a mess. His chest is flushed pink all the way down to his stomach. His cock painfully hard, curving against his belly.
Bdubs settles on top of him, knees pressing into the rug on either side of Etho’s hips. Etho hooks his legs over Bdubs thighs this time, opening himself up at a different angle. Their cocks press together, hot and wet. Both of them gasp at the contact.
Bdubs leans down, hovering over Etho’s mouth. Their lips brush. “Ready?”
“Stop asking, and just go.”
Bdubs kisses him. Hard. He lines himself up and pushes back inside.
The angle is different on the floor. Deeper. Fuller. Etho’s head tips back and lets out low and obscene sounds.
Bdubs settles into a fast rhythm immediately. No teasing this time. He pounds into Etho's hole, each thrust punching a gasp out of both of them.
He reaches down and cups Etho’s balls, rolling them between his fingers, tugging gently.
“Bdubs—”
“It feels so—so good.”
“Yes—fuck—yes—”
Bdubs keeps playing with him while he fucks him. Rolling. Tugging. Squeezing hard enough to make Etho’s voice go high and broken. Etho’s mouth falls open. His hands grip Bdubs’ back, nail digging in hard.
“Bdubs,” Etho gasps. “I’m—so close—”
Etho's hand flies to his own cock. He strokes frantically, out of rhythm, sloppy. His hips buck up into his fist and down onto Bdubs' cock at the same time, a desperate, uncoordinated chase. The sounds he's making go straight to Bdubs' spine.
"Come for me," Bdubs says, and his voice cracks on the words. "Come on, Etho. I want to see you."
Etho comes with a broken cry. His back arches off the rug. His whole body goes rigid—every muscle locked, every breath stopped—and then he shatters. His hole clenches tight around Bdubs' cock, pulsing, squeezing, milking. Stripes of white land on his stomach, his hand, his heaving chest. He shakes through it. Wave after wave. Thighs trembling around Bdubs' hips.
“Yes,” Bdubs groans. “Work through it. Feel it. Fuck—”
Etho shudders through the aftershocks, his hand still moving loosely on his spent cock, oversensitized but unable to stop. His hole keeps clenching, keeps pulling at Bdubs, and Bdubs knows he's not going to last another second.
He pulls out. Etho whimpers at the loss. Bdubs kneels over him, one hand braced on the rub beside Etho’s rips, the other wrapped tight around his own length. He strokes fast. Desperate. His grip is almost too tight.
Bdubs climaxes. Hot stripes land on Etho's stomach, mixing with his come, painting his skin white. He keeps stroking through it, milking every last drop, until his cock twitches one final time and he has to put all of his weight on his arm to keep from collapsing.
They watch each other through it. Through the last pulse. Through the slowing of breath. Through the silence that rushes in to fill the space where all the noise used to be.
Bdubs' hand slows, then stops. His chest is heaving. Sweat drips down his temple.
Etho's hand falls from his cock, limp, landing on the rug beside his hip. His stomach is a mess of both of them. White streaks across flushed skin. Cooling already.
“Gross,” Etho says, voice soft. Wrecked.
“You like it,” Bdubs breathes.
He collapses onto the rug beside Etho, not caring about the mess, not caring about the scratchy fabric digging into his back or the coffee table corner pressing into his shoulder. His heart is pounding. His legs are shaking. He feels like he just ran a marathon.
Etho turns his head on the rug. Looks at him. His eyes are soft now, all the sharp edges gone, all the sarcasm stripped away.
"Hey," Etho says.
"Hey."