[Fic: Hockey RPS] We are all Going forward, None of us are Going Back; Thornton/Luongo; NC-17
Okay, fsjnkdfsv here's some absolutely shameless Joe Thornton/Roberto Luongo porn. *facepalm* This took me, literally, forever. This fic like ate my soul. *tears at hair and pleads* I JUST ... I GIVE UP ... I CAN'T REALLY EXPLAIN IT ANYMORE. I JUST. God, I hope rokimova is happy with herself, since it's her fault I went here to begin with.
Disclaimer: About as real as a five thousand dollar bill. Title and summary from the Richard Siken poem Snow and Dirty Rain.
Warnings: dirty talk, comeplay, masturbation, rimming
We are all Going forward, None of us are Going Back
Joe Thornton (San Jose Sharks)/Roberto Luongo (Vancouver Canucks); 3277 words; NC-17
We were in the gold room where everyone/ finally gets what they want, so I said What do you/ want, sweetheart? and you said Kiss me.
We are all Going forward, None of us are going Back
So, this is how it feels to come so close, and have it all taken away.
Just like that.
So easy.
Roberto wished there was a way to turn back time. He would take back the hit on Nathan Horton. He would take back all the bad goals. He would … Oh, hell, he just wanted to wake up from this nightmare.
He sipped his tumbler of liquor, and munched sullenly on the tiny bowl of nuts in front of him. Roberto kept his eyes away from the TV, not bearing to look at the images there.
Vancouver was burning.
And, it was all his fault.
Roberto glanced around him silently, before he slid his fingers across his sleeve. He pinched the skin, and bit his lip when the sting passed through his system.
"Any luck?" he hears a voice say from behind him.
He half-glances over his shoulder and notes Joe Thornton standing there.
Roberto shrugs.
Joe hadn't expect to find Roberto where he did, but he couldn't exactly say he was surprised.
Roberto glanced over briefly, before he turned his eyes back to staring at the various liquor bottles lining the bar's wall.
"What are you doing here?" Roberto finally asks.
"Could ask you the same thing."
"Well, we just lost the Cup, on home ice, and I'm sitting here trying to figure out how many drinks it'll take before I realize this is all just a really, really bad dream."
Joe takes the seat next to him, noting Roberto doesn't tell him to shove off, which he takes as a good sign.
"Vancouver's a beautiful city to get lost in," Joe says in a tone that he thinks explains it all.
Roberto gives an indifferent shrug. "Whatever."
Joe watches the images flash across the TV screen, and lets the silence wash over them.
"It's not your fault," he finally said.
Roberto scoffed. "Were you watching the same game I was playing in?"
Joe turned to Roberto, and blinked. Roberto averted his eyes, in an effort to stop looking at Joe's thickly fringed eyelashes. "You're only human, Lu."
"I let the team down. I let the city down." Roberto brushed a stray lock of hair off his face. "I let everyone down."
Joe eyed Roberto's half-empty tumbler. "And what's the drink accomplishing?"
Roberto sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Don't take this the wrong way, Joe, but it's late, and I don't think I'm going to be the best company."
"It might surprise you to know that I know exactly how you're feeling at this moment," Joe says, ignoring Roberto's very obvious attempt at a brush-off.
Roberto scoffs, and takes another sip from his glass. "Really? You know what it's like to come to game seven in the Stanley Cup final and lose?"
Joe reaches a hand out to rest it on Roberto's shoulder. "It may not seem like much now, but it actually hurts more to lose in the Conference finals."
Roberto has to laugh at this. "How do you figure?"
"You work hard all season. Sacrificing your body just to get that far. It feels surreal."
The silence falls heavy between them. Both commiserating over their losses. Roberto glances out of the corner of his eye to Joe. He bites his bottom lip, chewing on it thoughtfully. "Does it get easier?"
Joe stands then, puts a warm hand on Roberto's shoulder. He glanced at his shoulder, feeling as the warmth from Joe's hand seeped into his skin. He had half a mind to shrug it off, but for some reason, he could not bring himself to.
"It does," Joe whispered. He slid Roberto's tumbler of liquor away from him, and slid a key card across the counter to him. "In case you want to talk some more. Room number's on the front of the card."
When Roberto looks over again, he notices Joe is gone. He pockets the key card, puts down enough to cover the cost of his drink, and a sizeable tip, before he hurries off to the bank of elevators.
He lucks out when he sees Joe about to step into one. Roberto makes it into the elevator car before the door closes.
"That was fast," Joe notes.
"I need a distraction," Roberto blurts out.
Before Roberto can say anything else, he feels Joe's warmth as he shifts away from his spot against the wall. He sees Joe's face right over his, his hands braced on the wall of the elevator.
"What," Roberto starts, feeling as all the blood rushes to his groin, "are you doing?"
"I think you know," Joe breathes, before he brings his head down and presses his lips to Roberto's.
The first kiss is usually awkward; Roberto knows this firsthand, and he's quite sure Joe would agree with him. But, this kiss with Joe is nothing like Roberto pictured. Joe's kiss is hesitant at first, like he's testing Roberto; wanting to see how he'll respond. Joe tastes like liquor and salt, which normally Roberto would not object to, but he's too busy trying to process that, shit, Joe Thornton is trying - no matter how unsuccessful at that moment - to make out with him in an elevator.
Eventually, Roberto's thoughts catch up to his motor skills, and before he can really enjoy the feel of Joe's lips against his, he's got his fingers curled around Joe's shoulders, and pushes him back.
"What are we - what is -" Roberto starts, and shakes his head as he tries to come up with the proper words. "I mean … aw, fuck, I don't know what I'm saying anym -"
Roberto's voice gets caught in his throat, his sentence dying on his lips, as he feels Joe grab him by the back of the neck, dragging him closer.
"This is a distraction," Joe breathes, before his lips crash down onto Roberto's again.
The second kiss is significantly better. Joe's lips were soft. He tasted like summer air, and salt, his cologne filled his nose, making him lightheaded. Roberto felt need coil tighter and tighter inside his stomach. He felt alive. Joe's hands loosened his tie, pulled his shirt loose from his pants, desperate to feel skin. The muscles in Roberto's stomach trembled slightly as Joe's fingers glided over his stomach. Roberto groaned against his lips.
Joe's hands are tentative at first, before he grows bolder. Roberto angles his hips forward, creating a delightful friction between his groin and Joe's. Joe runs a hand along Roberto's thigh, before he forces Roberto's leg up so it curls around his hip. It doesn't take Roberto long to catch on before he has his legs wrapped around Joe's waist. Joe groans into Roberto's mouth, curling his fingers into Roberto's dark curls, and forcefully keeps Roberto's lips against his. Joe's other hand running down Roberto's back, his thighs, before ghosting over the front of Roberto's pants.
Roberto twitches his hips at the slight contact, which earns him a hiss from Joe's lips.
"Aw, fuck, Lu," Joe mumbles, leaning his forehead against Roberto's, a hand curled against Roberto's hipbone.
"That's really fucking distracting, y'know that?" Roberto breathes as Joe runs his other hand down Roberto's cheek.
"Isn't that the point?" Joe teases, bringing his hand on Roberto's hip to palm his crotch, pressing his palm against the tented fabric.
Joe stares at Roberto then, eyebrow raised, hand on Roberto's clothed dick. Roberto's pupils are blown, his lips swollen, his breathing ragged.
"Joe," Roberto says, letting his head fall back against the wall. Joe can see the flush on Roberto's neck, can hear the blood rushing in his ears, and he grips Roberto's hips tightly.
"Fuck, Lu … do you have any idea how much I want to blow you?"
"Here? In the elevator?" Roberto asks.
"Especially here," Joe returns, and he smirks as he feels Roberto's whole body shudder at his bold statement.
"Jesus fuck, you can't just tell me things like that, Joe, and not deliver," Roberto groans, before surging up to capture Joe's lips again.
Their elevator beeps, signalling their arrival on Joe's floor. Joe steps away, and helps Roberto into a standing position. They straighten their clothes, before hurrying out of the elevator and down the hall towards Joe's room. It doesn't take long before Joe gets his door open, and he has Roberto pressed against the wood. Joe lifts Roberto and Roberto curls his legs around Joe's waist, and grinds hard against Joe's stomach.
"Fucking hell," Joe gasps, hands on Roberto's ass as he presses him against the door.
Roberto's not quite sure how they make it to the bed, only that when Joe cups his dick, Roberto sucks in his breath, and shoves Joe down onto the sheets. Joe chuckles at the action.
Roberto braces his hands on a nearby chair, and watches as Joe slinks off the bed and comes towards him.
"I did say I wanted to blow you," Joe says, reaching a hand out to undo Roberto's fly. "And, who said I wasn't going to deliver? I always deliver."
Joe looks up as his hand curls around Roberto's cock. "I'm going to make you come so hard you'll never want anyone else to ever suck you off. Ever."
Roberto bites his bottom lip to keep from crying out that he really, really, fucking wants that. His hips jump slightly as Joe flicks his tongue across the head, and he grips the chair so hard he's sure his knuckles are as white as snow.
"God, you look so hot like this, Lu. You're just dying to have me put your dick in my mouth, aren't you?"
Roberto can't stop the groan that escapes from his mouth this time. "Fuck, yes. Oh, fuck, I want you to suck me off so bad."
"Have it your way," Joe murmurs against Roberto's hipbone, before he finally slides Roberto's cock into his mouth.
It takes all of Roberto's self-control not to buck his hips forward. Instead, he brings one of his hands forward to curl into Joe's hair, and watches as Joe's stretched lips move over his dick.
"Jesus, Joe," Roberto says, voice thick and all fucked up.
"I figured you'd like this," Joe says, his tone suggesting he really did not like the fact that Roberto's cock was not in his mouth at that particular moment.
When Joe does something absolutely maddening with his tongue on his cock, Roberto cannot stop his hips from bucking forward this time. He starts muttering he's sorry, how he never wants Joe to stop, and how he thinks he'll die if Joe does stop.
"It's okay," Joe mutters, "Fuck, Lu … just … you don't have to apologize."
"Joe," Roberto chokes out, as Joe slides his lips down onto Roberto's cock again. He lets his fingers curl into Joe's hair, his other hand gripping the chair to hold himself up. Joe can feel as Roberto's knees shake, and he rubs a hand over Roberto's ass, down the backs of his thighs. Roberto's fingers tighten their grip in his hair.
"Fuck, oh, Jesus fuck, Joe … fuck … feels so good."
Joe can barely hear Roberto's voice over the roar in his ear. He hears as Roberto's breath catches, and before he can stop himself from knowing what a mess it will surely make in his pants, he unzips his fly and slides a hand into his own pants. As Roberto bucks once more into his mouth, Joe's hand grasps his own cock so hard he sees stars. And, oh fuck, if he does not blow his load soon he's sure he will go out of his mind.
"Oh -" Roberto chokes out, "oh my fuck … Joe, Joe," and Joe feels as Roberto tenses, and comes in his mouth, his knees trembling with the force of his orgasm. Joe feels as Roberto's come slides down his throat, and any semblance of control he thinks he still has disappears when he feels Roberto's come hit the back of his throat. He comes violently, hands still curled around his and Roberto's cocks.
They don't speak for a few moments, Joe blinks his eyes rapidly in an attempt to clear the stars littering his vision. He lets his forehead rest against Roberto's thigh, and breathes shakily. Roberto combs his fingers through Joe's auburn strands, and swallows as his heart rate slows to a normal pace.
"Uh," Roberto starts, voice wavering, as he glances down to where Joe's hand is still tucked into his pants. "You came?"
Joe chuckles. "You're very persuasive, Lu."
Roberto's about to comment, when he sees Joe surge to his feet, his free hand turning him bodily to the bed. He gives Roberto a slight shove, which sends him onto the bed. Roberto crawls backwards until his back is resting against the pillows, watching as Joe follows.
Roberto cannot think. His head is spinning, his hands shake, and he barely registers that Joe is sliding his come-slicked fingers into his mouth. Roberto narrows his eyes at Joe, but he sucks on Joe's fingers, watching every flicker that crosses Joe's eyes.
"God, I could come again just by watching you do that," Joe says, watching as Roberto licks his fingers clean. His other hand manages to get the button on Roberto's pants undone, before he's fisting his cock.
Roberto feels as his cock twitches; shit, he was half-hard already?
Joe leans back on his heels, lets his fingers slide from Roberto's lips, before he begins to undress him. He slides his shirt halfway down his arms before he leans in, presses his mouth against the curve where neck meets shoulder, scrapes his teeth over the thin skin there, and hears as Roberto shudders, his hand sliding up Joe's back to card through his hair.
"Fuck," Roberto manages to get out when Joe nips at his collarbone, and presses the heel of his hand against his dick.
"I'm going to fuck you so hard," Joe breathes against the shell of Roberto's ear, delicious promise laced in his tone.
Roberto whimpers, grips Joe's hair hard, and bucks his hips shamelessly.
"I can just imagine you spread out on this bed, me above you, as you fuck yourself on my fingers." Joe licks the shell of Roberto's ear. "Come on, Lu, tell me how much you want it."
"God … fuck … Jesus … shit, yes, I want that, Joe."
"Yeah?" Joe moves his fist, watching as Roberto's cock pulses against his palm. "How much do you want it?"
Roberto squirms, and curses as his pant leg grazes Joe's. "Too … too … too-much-clothing," he manages to get out.
"I can fix that," Joe says, sliding off the bed clumsily, dragging Roberto's pants and briefs as he does so. By the time Roberto's naked, they're both breathing fast, cheeks flushed, Roberto's cock swollen, red, and wet with pre-come.
"Normally, I'd make some comment about how you're still dressed, but I'm not sure it's warranted here," Roberto blurts out.
Joe shrugs, before he yanks his tie off, shucks out of his shirt, and shimmies out of his pants. He climbs back onto the bed, raises a hand and slides his fingers back into Roberto's mouth.
Joe's cock twitches so hard at the visual of Roberto sucking on his fingers, he momentarily sees stars.
"Thanks for that," he murmurs, before pressing two fingers inside Roberto. Before Roberto can say anything, Joe gets his dick in his mouth, hollows his cheeks and sucks hard, his fingers scissoring Roberto open. God, Roberto was so tight around his fingers, it was driving him mental.
Roberto lets out a hoarse cry, knuckles shoved against his mouth to stop from screaming out loud, his legs draped over Joe's shoulders, pushing himself off the mattress. "Jesus fuck, Joe - what - that the fuck are you - oh fuck - oh god - oh god - oh my fucking god - don't you - don't you fucking stop."
Joe forces himself to slide Roberto's cock from his mouth; swirling his tongue over the head as he does so.
"Fuck me," Roberto orders.
"That's more like it," Joe growls, venturing off to grab a condom, and lube, before he's back. He flips Roberto over, bending over his form to lick a line down his spine, and over his hole.
"Stop … stop fucking teasing me, and just - would you just - fuck me already," Roberto insists, face pressed against his arm.
"Have it your way, then," Joe murmurs, pressing a kiss to Roberto's shoulder blades.
It doesn't take long for Joe to roll the rubber down his length, before he lines himself up at Roberto's entrance. Roberto's already stretched, so Joe slides right in, and he lets his breath out in a long hiss as Joe presses his full length in. Slow. Oh, so fucking slow.
"You -" Roberto tries, eyes blinking rapidly as he feels Joe's length sliding in and out of him. "You're going too slow," he gasps. "Fuck. Just … fuck me harder."
"Something like this?" Joe asks, rocking his hips back and forward again, making sure he hits Roberto's prostate as he does so. Roberto groans, fingers fisting in the sheets.
"Yes - oh fuck, yes … Feels so good."
"Have you ever done this with anyone else, Lu?" Joe whispers, angling his torso forward so he can whisper against Roberto's ear. He's got one hand on the headboard to brace himself, the other around Roberto's waist.
"Guess," Roberto chokes out, teeth scraping over his wrist, and shudders as Joe enters him once more.
Joe laughs. "Well, whoever it is, obviously did a piss poor job. They obviously didn't fill you like I do. Y'think they'd be jealous to hear how you begged me to fuck you. On all fours. In my hotel room? Hm?"
"Motherfucking fuck," Roberto moans.
"You fucking love it," Joe hisses against his ear, fucking Roberto mercilessly, his hand finally curling around his dick, tugging hard. "You love hearing when I talk to you like this."
"Yes," Roberto groans, "yes, I fucking love it. Fuckfuckfuck, Joe, Joe, Joe."
Joe grits his teeth, and grips Roberto's hips as he pulls out. He watches as Roberto keens at the loss.
"Turn over for me," Joe says.
Roberto manages to scramble onto his back, before Joe's inside him again. His pupils are blown, chest flush, dark hair everywhere, his pre-come making a mess of his thighs and stomach. Joe has his arms under Roberto's back, as he pulls him into a sitting position atop his thighs. Roberto groans at the shift in their position, and bites down on Joe's shoulder, sobbing loudly against his neck-shoulder curve as Joe drives up into him again. Joe tugs again on Roberto's cock, and Roberto bites his bottom lip so hard he's sure he tastes blood, before he's coming. Hot, white, sticky ropes coating Joe's hand, and their bare stomachs.
Joe drives himself up into Roberto three more times, gripping his hips as he comes. He blinks, gasps out Roberto's name as he rides out his orgasm.
Roberto's got his legs wrapped around Joe's waist, his face pressed against Joe's chest. Joe slides out of him slowly.
They don't say anything for a long while. Roberto eventually slides off of Joe's lap, and lays back against the sheets. Joe joins him after he disposes of the condom, and presses a lazy kiss to Roberto's forehead.
"Feeling better?" he asks.
Roberto lets out his breath in a long whoosh before he nods.
Joe shifts closer, rubbing his fingers over Roberto's knuckles, and yawns. "Stay the night?"
"Yeah," Roberto mumbles, eyelids growing heavy. "Oh, and Joe?"
"Hm?"
"It was Kes," he mumbles.
Joe chuckles softly next to him. "I'm not surprised."
Disclaimer: About as real as a five thousand dollar bill. Title and summary from the Richard Siken poem Snow and Dirty Rain.
Warnings: dirty talk, comeplay, masturbation, rimming
We are all Going forward, None of us are Going Back
Joe Thornton (San Jose Sharks)/Roberto Luongo (Vancouver Canucks); 3277 words; NC-17
We were in the gold room where everyone/ finally gets what they want, so I said What do you/ want, sweetheart? and you said Kiss me.
We are all Going forward, None of us are going Back
So, this is how it feels to come so close, and have it all taken away.
Just like that.
So easy.
Roberto wished there was a way to turn back time. He would take back the hit on Nathan Horton. He would take back all the bad goals. He would … Oh, hell, he just wanted to wake up from this nightmare.
He sipped his tumbler of liquor, and munched sullenly on the tiny bowl of nuts in front of him. Roberto kept his eyes away from the TV, not bearing to look at the images there.
Vancouver was burning.
And, it was all his fault.
Roberto glanced around him silently, before he slid his fingers across his sleeve. He pinched the skin, and bit his lip when the sting passed through his system.
"Any luck?" he hears a voice say from behind him.
He half-glances over his shoulder and notes Joe Thornton standing there.
Roberto shrugs.
Joe hadn't expect to find Roberto where he did, but he couldn't exactly say he was surprised.
Roberto glanced over briefly, before he turned his eyes back to staring at the various liquor bottles lining the bar's wall.
"What are you doing here?" Roberto finally asks.
"Could ask you the same thing."
"Well, we just lost the Cup, on home ice, and I'm sitting here trying to figure out how many drinks it'll take before I realize this is all just a really, really bad dream."
Joe takes the seat next to him, noting Roberto doesn't tell him to shove off, which he takes as a good sign.
"Vancouver's a beautiful city to get lost in," Joe says in a tone that he thinks explains it all.
Roberto gives an indifferent shrug. "Whatever."
Joe watches the images flash across the TV screen, and lets the silence wash over them.
"It's not your fault," he finally said.
Roberto scoffed. "Were you watching the same game I was playing in?"
Joe turned to Roberto, and blinked. Roberto averted his eyes, in an effort to stop looking at Joe's thickly fringed eyelashes. "You're only human, Lu."
"I let the team down. I let the city down." Roberto brushed a stray lock of hair off his face. "I let everyone down."
Joe eyed Roberto's half-empty tumbler. "And what's the drink accomplishing?"
Roberto sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Don't take this the wrong way, Joe, but it's late, and I don't think I'm going to be the best company."
"It might surprise you to know that I know exactly how you're feeling at this moment," Joe says, ignoring Roberto's very obvious attempt at a brush-off.
Roberto scoffs, and takes another sip from his glass. "Really? You know what it's like to come to game seven in the Stanley Cup final and lose?"
Joe reaches a hand out to rest it on Roberto's shoulder. "It may not seem like much now, but it actually hurts more to lose in the Conference finals."
Roberto has to laugh at this. "How do you figure?"
"You work hard all season. Sacrificing your body just to get that far. It feels surreal."
The silence falls heavy between them. Both commiserating over their losses. Roberto glances out of the corner of his eye to Joe. He bites his bottom lip, chewing on it thoughtfully. "Does it get easier?"
Joe stands then, puts a warm hand on Roberto's shoulder. He glanced at his shoulder, feeling as the warmth from Joe's hand seeped into his skin. He had half a mind to shrug it off, but for some reason, he could not bring himself to.
"It does," Joe whispered. He slid Roberto's tumbler of liquor away from him, and slid a key card across the counter to him. "In case you want to talk some more. Room number's on the front of the card."
When Roberto looks over again, he notices Joe is gone. He pockets the key card, puts down enough to cover the cost of his drink, and a sizeable tip, before he hurries off to the bank of elevators.
He lucks out when he sees Joe about to step into one. Roberto makes it into the elevator car before the door closes.
"That was fast," Joe notes.
"I need a distraction," Roberto blurts out.
Before Roberto can say anything else, he feels Joe's warmth as he shifts away from his spot against the wall. He sees Joe's face right over his, his hands braced on the wall of the elevator.
"What," Roberto starts, feeling as all the blood rushes to his groin, "are you doing?"
"I think you know," Joe breathes, before he brings his head down and presses his lips to Roberto's.
The first kiss is usually awkward; Roberto knows this firsthand, and he's quite sure Joe would agree with him. But, this kiss with Joe is nothing like Roberto pictured. Joe's kiss is hesitant at first, like he's testing Roberto; wanting to see how he'll respond. Joe tastes like liquor and salt, which normally Roberto would not object to, but he's too busy trying to process that, shit, Joe Thornton is trying - no matter how unsuccessful at that moment - to make out with him in an elevator.
Eventually, Roberto's thoughts catch up to his motor skills, and before he can really enjoy the feel of Joe's lips against his, he's got his fingers curled around Joe's shoulders, and pushes him back.
"What are we - what is -" Roberto starts, and shakes his head as he tries to come up with the proper words. "I mean … aw, fuck, I don't know what I'm saying anym -"
Roberto's voice gets caught in his throat, his sentence dying on his lips, as he feels Joe grab him by the back of the neck, dragging him closer.
"This is a distraction," Joe breathes, before his lips crash down onto Roberto's again.
The second kiss is significantly better. Joe's lips were soft. He tasted like summer air, and salt, his cologne filled his nose, making him lightheaded. Roberto felt need coil tighter and tighter inside his stomach. He felt alive. Joe's hands loosened his tie, pulled his shirt loose from his pants, desperate to feel skin. The muscles in Roberto's stomach trembled slightly as Joe's fingers glided over his stomach. Roberto groaned against his lips.
Joe's hands are tentative at first, before he grows bolder. Roberto angles his hips forward, creating a delightful friction between his groin and Joe's. Joe runs a hand along Roberto's thigh, before he forces Roberto's leg up so it curls around his hip. It doesn't take Roberto long to catch on before he has his legs wrapped around Joe's waist. Joe groans into Roberto's mouth, curling his fingers into Roberto's dark curls, and forcefully keeps Roberto's lips against his. Joe's other hand running down Roberto's back, his thighs, before ghosting over the front of Roberto's pants.
Roberto twitches his hips at the slight contact, which earns him a hiss from Joe's lips.
"Aw, fuck, Lu," Joe mumbles, leaning his forehead against Roberto's, a hand curled against Roberto's hipbone.
"That's really fucking distracting, y'know that?" Roberto breathes as Joe runs his other hand down Roberto's cheek.
"Isn't that the point?" Joe teases, bringing his hand on Roberto's hip to palm his crotch, pressing his palm against the tented fabric.
Joe stares at Roberto then, eyebrow raised, hand on Roberto's clothed dick. Roberto's pupils are blown, his lips swollen, his breathing ragged.
"Joe," Roberto says, letting his head fall back against the wall. Joe can see the flush on Roberto's neck, can hear the blood rushing in his ears, and he grips Roberto's hips tightly.
"Fuck, Lu … do you have any idea how much I want to blow you?"
"Here? In the elevator?" Roberto asks.
"Especially here," Joe returns, and he smirks as he feels Roberto's whole body shudder at his bold statement.
"Jesus fuck, you can't just tell me things like that, Joe, and not deliver," Roberto groans, before surging up to capture Joe's lips again.
Their elevator beeps, signalling their arrival on Joe's floor. Joe steps away, and helps Roberto into a standing position. They straighten their clothes, before hurrying out of the elevator and down the hall towards Joe's room. It doesn't take long before Joe gets his door open, and he has Roberto pressed against the wood. Joe lifts Roberto and Roberto curls his legs around Joe's waist, and grinds hard against Joe's stomach.
"Fucking hell," Joe gasps, hands on Roberto's ass as he presses him against the door.
Roberto's not quite sure how they make it to the bed, only that when Joe cups his dick, Roberto sucks in his breath, and shoves Joe down onto the sheets. Joe chuckles at the action.
Roberto braces his hands on a nearby chair, and watches as Joe slinks off the bed and comes towards him.
"I did say I wanted to blow you," Joe says, reaching a hand out to undo Roberto's fly. "And, who said I wasn't going to deliver? I always deliver."
Joe looks up as his hand curls around Roberto's cock. "I'm going to make you come so hard you'll never want anyone else to ever suck you off. Ever."
Roberto bites his bottom lip to keep from crying out that he really, really, fucking wants that. His hips jump slightly as Joe flicks his tongue across the head, and he grips the chair so hard he's sure his knuckles are as white as snow.
"God, you look so hot like this, Lu. You're just dying to have me put your dick in my mouth, aren't you?"
Roberto can't stop the groan that escapes from his mouth this time. "Fuck, yes. Oh, fuck, I want you to suck me off so bad."
"Have it your way," Joe murmurs against Roberto's hipbone, before he finally slides Roberto's cock into his mouth.
It takes all of Roberto's self-control not to buck his hips forward. Instead, he brings one of his hands forward to curl into Joe's hair, and watches as Joe's stretched lips move over his dick.
"Jesus, Joe," Roberto says, voice thick and all fucked up.
"I figured you'd like this," Joe says, his tone suggesting he really did not like the fact that Roberto's cock was not in his mouth at that particular moment.
When Joe does something absolutely maddening with his tongue on his cock, Roberto cannot stop his hips from bucking forward this time. He starts muttering he's sorry, how he never wants Joe to stop, and how he thinks he'll die if Joe does stop.
"It's okay," Joe mutters, "Fuck, Lu … just … you don't have to apologize."
"Joe," Roberto chokes out, as Joe slides his lips down onto Roberto's cock again. He lets his fingers curl into Joe's hair, his other hand gripping the chair to hold himself up. Joe can feel as Roberto's knees shake, and he rubs a hand over Roberto's ass, down the backs of his thighs. Roberto's fingers tighten their grip in his hair.
"Fuck, oh, Jesus fuck, Joe … fuck … feels so good."
Joe can barely hear Roberto's voice over the roar in his ear. He hears as Roberto's breath catches, and before he can stop himself from knowing what a mess it will surely make in his pants, he unzips his fly and slides a hand into his own pants. As Roberto bucks once more into his mouth, Joe's hand grasps his own cock so hard he sees stars. And, oh fuck, if he does not blow his load soon he's sure he will go out of his mind.
"Oh -" Roberto chokes out, "oh my fuck … Joe, Joe," and Joe feels as Roberto tenses, and comes in his mouth, his knees trembling with the force of his orgasm. Joe feels as Roberto's come slides down his throat, and any semblance of control he thinks he still has disappears when he feels Roberto's come hit the back of his throat. He comes violently, hands still curled around his and Roberto's cocks.
They don't speak for a few moments, Joe blinks his eyes rapidly in an attempt to clear the stars littering his vision. He lets his forehead rest against Roberto's thigh, and breathes shakily. Roberto combs his fingers through Joe's auburn strands, and swallows as his heart rate slows to a normal pace.
"Uh," Roberto starts, voice wavering, as he glances down to where Joe's hand is still tucked into his pants. "You came?"
Joe chuckles. "You're very persuasive, Lu."
Roberto's about to comment, when he sees Joe surge to his feet, his free hand turning him bodily to the bed. He gives Roberto a slight shove, which sends him onto the bed. Roberto crawls backwards until his back is resting against the pillows, watching as Joe follows.
Roberto cannot think. His head is spinning, his hands shake, and he barely registers that Joe is sliding his come-slicked fingers into his mouth. Roberto narrows his eyes at Joe, but he sucks on Joe's fingers, watching every flicker that crosses Joe's eyes.
"God, I could come again just by watching you do that," Joe says, watching as Roberto licks his fingers clean. His other hand manages to get the button on Roberto's pants undone, before he's fisting his cock.
Roberto feels as his cock twitches; shit, he was half-hard already?
Joe leans back on his heels, lets his fingers slide from Roberto's lips, before he begins to undress him. He slides his shirt halfway down his arms before he leans in, presses his mouth against the curve where neck meets shoulder, scrapes his teeth over the thin skin there, and hears as Roberto shudders, his hand sliding up Joe's back to card through his hair.
"Fuck," Roberto manages to get out when Joe nips at his collarbone, and presses the heel of his hand against his dick.
"I'm going to fuck you so hard," Joe breathes against the shell of Roberto's ear, delicious promise laced in his tone.
Roberto whimpers, grips Joe's hair hard, and bucks his hips shamelessly.
"I can just imagine you spread out on this bed, me above you, as you fuck yourself on my fingers." Joe licks the shell of Roberto's ear. "Come on, Lu, tell me how much you want it."
"God … fuck … Jesus … shit, yes, I want that, Joe."
"Yeah?" Joe moves his fist, watching as Roberto's cock pulses against his palm. "How much do you want it?"
Roberto squirms, and curses as his pant leg grazes Joe's. "Too … too … too-much-clothing," he manages to get out.
"I can fix that," Joe says, sliding off the bed clumsily, dragging Roberto's pants and briefs as he does so. By the time Roberto's naked, they're both breathing fast, cheeks flushed, Roberto's cock swollen, red, and wet with pre-come.
"Normally, I'd make some comment about how you're still dressed, but I'm not sure it's warranted here," Roberto blurts out.
Joe shrugs, before he yanks his tie off, shucks out of his shirt, and shimmies out of his pants. He climbs back onto the bed, raises a hand and slides his fingers back into Roberto's mouth.
Joe's cock twitches so hard at the visual of Roberto sucking on his fingers, he momentarily sees stars.
"Thanks for that," he murmurs, before pressing two fingers inside Roberto. Before Roberto can say anything, Joe gets his dick in his mouth, hollows his cheeks and sucks hard, his fingers scissoring Roberto open. God, Roberto was so tight around his fingers, it was driving him mental.
Roberto lets out a hoarse cry, knuckles shoved against his mouth to stop from screaming out loud, his legs draped over Joe's shoulders, pushing himself off the mattress. "Jesus fuck, Joe - what - that the fuck are you - oh fuck - oh god - oh god - oh my fucking god - don't you - don't you fucking stop."
Joe forces himself to slide Roberto's cock from his mouth; swirling his tongue over the head as he does so.
"Fuck me," Roberto orders.
"That's more like it," Joe growls, venturing off to grab a condom, and lube, before he's back. He flips Roberto over, bending over his form to lick a line down his spine, and over his hole.
"Stop … stop fucking teasing me, and just - would you just - fuck me already," Roberto insists, face pressed against his arm.
"Have it your way, then," Joe murmurs, pressing a kiss to Roberto's shoulder blades.
It doesn't take long for Joe to roll the rubber down his length, before he lines himself up at Roberto's entrance. Roberto's already stretched, so Joe slides right in, and he lets his breath out in a long hiss as Joe presses his full length in. Slow. Oh, so fucking slow.
"You -" Roberto tries, eyes blinking rapidly as he feels Joe's length sliding in and out of him. "You're going too slow," he gasps. "Fuck. Just … fuck me harder."
"Something like this?" Joe asks, rocking his hips back and forward again, making sure he hits Roberto's prostate as he does so. Roberto groans, fingers fisting in the sheets.
"Yes - oh fuck, yes … Feels so good."
"Have you ever done this with anyone else, Lu?" Joe whispers, angling his torso forward so he can whisper against Roberto's ear. He's got one hand on the headboard to brace himself, the other around Roberto's waist.
"Guess," Roberto chokes out, teeth scraping over his wrist, and shudders as Joe enters him once more.
Joe laughs. "Well, whoever it is, obviously did a piss poor job. They obviously didn't fill you like I do. Y'think they'd be jealous to hear how you begged me to fuck you. On all fours. In my hotel room? Hm?"
"Motherfucking fuck," Roberto moans.
"You fucking love it," Joe hisses against his ear, fucking Roberto mercilessly, his hand finally curling around his dick, tugging hard. "You love hearing when I talk to you like this."
"Yes," Roberto groans, "yes, I fucking love it. Fuckfuckfuck, Joe, Joe, Joe."
Joe grits his teeth, and grips Roberto's hips as he pulls out. He watches as Roberto keens at the loss.
"Turn over for me," Joe says.
Roberto manages to scramble onto his back, before Joe's inside him again. His pupils are blown, chest flush, dark hair everywhere, his pre-come making a mess of his thighs and stomach. Joe has his arms under Roberto's back, as he pulls him into a sitting position atop his thighs. Roberto groans at the shift in their position, and bites down on Joe's shoulder, sobbing loudly against his neck-shoulder curve as Joe drives up into him again. Joe tugs again on Roberto's cock, and Roberto bites his bottom lip so hard he's sure he tastes blood, before he's coming. Hot, white, sticky ropes coating Joe's hand, and their bare stomachs.
Joe drives himself up into Roberto three more times, gripping his hips as he comes. He blinks, gasps out Roberto's name as he rides out his orgasm.
Roberto's got his legs wrapped around Joe's waist, his face pressed against Joe's chest. Joe slides out of him slowly.
They don't say anything for a long while. Roberto eventually slides off of Joe's lap, and lays back against the sheets. Joe joins him after he disposes of the condom, and presses a lazy kiss to Roberto's forehead.
"Feeling better?" he asks.
Roberto lets out his breath in a long whoosh before he nods.
Joe shifts closer, rubbing his fingers over Roberto's knuckles, and yawns. "Stay the night?"
"Yeah," Roberto mumbles, eyelids growing heavy. "Oh, and Joe?"
"Hm?"
"It was Kes," he mumbles.
Joe chuckles softly next to him. "I'm not surprised."