Fic: Austin AU (original) (raw)

So, this is the gratuitously porny AU of an AU which was itself gratuitously porny to begin with. It may be the porniest thing I've ever written, though I suppose that would depend on how you measure porniness. It's at least in the top three.

Beta'd as usual by the incomparable new_kate ♥

In which Joe meets Len in January, 1989.

Joe was freezing his ass off. His stomach was threatening to gnaw through his backbone, and he hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours, but mostly it was the cold and the driving, soaking rain that were making his life miserable right then. It hadn't been too bad until the sun set. Now, invisible in his dark army surplus jacket on the side of the emptiest stretch of highway between Austin and fuckin' Georgia, he was more likely to get hit by a car then picked up by one.

If any cars ever came by - it seemed like hours since the last pair of headlights had blown past him. His pack was soaked through and only getting heavier and his boots were full of water, squishing and sucking around his feet with each step. Not like it was the worst trouble he'd been in since he left on this stupid trip. He just really, really hoped he'd find a rest stop before morning, that was all.

Light swept up the pavement in front of him, glaring on a lonely McDonald's billboard which stood just outside the tumbledown cow fence. He would kill for that big mac about now. And fries. And a nice, warm, dry restaurant where the night staff would glare at him for getting puddles on their floor. He wondered if the billboard would provide enough shelter to be worth the slog over to it.

The car slowed down and swung wide around him as it passed. Joe stuck his thumb out at it half-heartedly. The driver was probably staring at him out the window, thinking he was an ax-murderer. Poor crazy psycho killer, trying to lure in a victim on a night like this. Joe almost laughed at himself. He raked his heavy hair back off his forehead. It released a gush of icy water right down the collar of his jacket.

Up ahead, the puddles shone the red of break lights. The car was slowing down, pulling well off onto the gravel shoulder, signaling even though there was no one around for miles. So maybe the psycho ax murderer was the one in the car, then. Joe could kiss the guy, psycho or not, for stopping on a night like this.

He jogged up as fast as his numb toes would allow. The car was a white Lincoln, relatively new. The driver was half over his seat, digging through the duffel bag in back; Joe could see his fine, dark hair fanned across his forehead through the back windshield. He knocked on the window twice, then cracked the door.

"Hey, man, thanks for stopping," he said. Waves of warmth shimmered over his face from inside the cab, making the rest of his body colder by comparison.

"Just a moment," the driver said, muffled as he thrust his body even further over the seat. "Ah, here -"

He emerged from the duffel holding two towels, thick, plush and expensive-looking. He spread one over the passenger's seat with a neat flick of his wrists, then held the other up to Joe.

The guy's eyes were pale green and looking at them sucked all the air out of Joe's chest. All his thoughts evacuated his brain in a hurry, except a faint, nearly subliminal taste of acrid smoke and sweet pollen. Maybe he really had been hit by a mack truck somewhere up the road and was hallucinating all of this. The bright white towel hung suspended in the air between them until Joe reached out and grabbed it.

"Thanks," he croaked, slipping into the car before any more rain could splatter in. His backpack sloshed against the immaculate floor mats.

The guy adjusted his glasses, the better to stare at Joe while he shivered. "It's not a very good night to be on foot," he said. His voice was soft, somehow fussy and overly precise, as if each syllable had been triple-checked before it left his mouth. Joe ducked inside the towel under the pretense of drying his hair. The pale, sharp angles of the guy's face burned behind his eyelids.

"You're tellin' me," Joe said. "Not a cloud in the sky all day, then this. I'm Joe, by the way. Headin' for Austin, but you can just take me as far as the next rest stop, if you'd rather."

"Oh. Yes," the guy said, sounding startled. He turned in his seat, made an abortive reach for the gearshift, then put his seat belt on. "Buckle up, please," he told Joe.

He waited until Joe had, watching him from the corner of his eye, before carefully pulling back onto the highway. He drove with his shoulders square but relaxed, his hands firmly and precisely at ten and two.

"Joe," the guy said, rolling his name around like a mouthful of fine wine. "My name is Leonard Borden. Coincidentally, I'm headed for Austin as well."

"No kidding," Joe said. "You a student or something?"

"Yes, actually. Undergradute."

"Cool."

Joe snuck little glances at Leonard's pale profile while he tried to sop as much water as he could out of his clothes with the towel. He'd left the dome light on, so Joe could see to dry off, he guessed. Heat blasted from the vents, and if Joe hadn't been so chilled it might have been stifling. The radio was on, but turned down too low to hear. There was only white noise when Joe turned it up.

"There hasn't been a station in range for some time," Leonard told him. "But feel free to keep trying."

"Nah, that's okay," Joe said. "There won't be anything but country out here anyway."

Loenard gave him a small, soft smile, as if Joe had just shared a secret. The more Joe looked at him, the sexier his long, rangy limbs looked in the neat slacks and button-down shirt he was wearing, as if he were slowly coming into focus. Joe wiped his face with the towel again. If he took off his shirt now, he'd at least have a reasonable excuse. He toyed with the hem of his jacket, hesitating.

"You know, hitch-hiking is dangerous," Leonard murmured. "Especially when alone, in the dark, miles from shelter."

Some small part of Joe - probably his common sense - knew that Leonard was kinda creepy. The rest of him was busy trying to figure out what the hell it was that made the guy hotter every time Joe glanced over. Some kind of crazy pheromones, maybe? But mostly all the could smell was his own wet, musty gear and a faint undertone of window cleaner.

"Are you asking how I got out here?" Joe asked.

Leonard cringed slightly, shoulders curling toward the steering wheel. "Ah, of course, it's none of my business."

"Well, no, but. It's not a big deal. My last ride was turning at one of the county roads, so he dropped me on the shoulder. I wasn't planning on walking, really, but no one was stopping." Leonard's jaw was tight, as if something about Joe's explanation displeased him. "You've never hitch-hiked, have you?"

"No, I haven't."

"Yeah. Well, I have been for a while, so, I know how to keep myself safe."

"I'm glad."

"But sometimes your luck just doesn't hold out, you know?"

"Are you done with the light?" Leonard asked.

Joe nodded. Leonard flipped off the dome light, and the green glow of the dashboard limned his fine features. Water tracked across the windows. The clock on the radio flipped over 12:45.

"So," Joe began, but he was distracted by the length of Leonard's fingers where they wrapped around the steering wheel.

"Did you find her?" Leonard asked.

"Did I -- What?" Joe sputtered.

He had absolutely no idea who or what Leonard might be talking about. He waited a full minute, and it still failed to make sense. How - No, but there was no way Leonard could have known.

Leonard's shoulders curled further, and a hint of color might have risen on his cheeks. Joe couldn't tell, in the dark.

"I guess it is a rather large assumption on my part. You just seemed - That is, I thought there must have been a woman."

"It's not like that." Joe's stomach was churning. "It was - Well. She's not really my mother. So, no. I didn't find her."

Joe grit his teeth, willing himself not to remember her yellow curlers, the soggy yellow cake she'd fed him before she hustled him out of her house.

"I'm sorry," Leonard said. "I shouldn't have -"

"It's fine."

Joe breathed easier as the tension in Leonard's shoulders relaxed slightly. For some time they were quiet together. The road was dead straight and very nearly level under the pounding rain. The car slid through the night, marking time with the sweep of its windshield wipers. Joe leaned back a bit, hooking his arm over the back of the seat, trying to get comfortable in his damp clothing. Leonard drove steadily, well below the speed limit. Joe wanted to reach over and smooth the creases off his forehead.

"So, where you coming from?" Joe asked, when he was sure he wouldn't sound upset. It wasn't Len's fault if he had some freaky psychic powers or something. Joe wanted Leonard to be comfortable with him. Maybe comfortable enough to take him all the way to Donny's doorstep.

"Houston."

"You're not from there, though?"

Leonard glanced at him, frowning.

"Your accent."

"Oh, yes. No, I grew up in California. My parents and I moved to Houston years ago; I was there for the holidays. Of course, all three of us are atheists, so I don't know why they bother with the pretense."

Joe chuckled. "Why does anyone bother?"

"The weight of tradition, I suppose," Leonard said. "Are you from Austin?"

"More or less," Joe said. "I've moved around a lot. I'm thinking I might stay there a while, though, this time."

"I'm glad," Leonard said. "Ah, it's a lovely city. There's no where else quite like Texas."

"Austin isn't quite like Texas either."

"True." Leonard's voice was low and rich with amusement. Joe liked the sound of it. He wanted to feel it on his skin. Glancing over at Leonard for the millionth time, Joe caught a pale flash off his glasses. Leonard was looking back, his shy smile barely visible in the dark.

Joe somehow missed the signs for the rest stop, and was momentarily confused when Leonard started to pull off the road. The place was pretty much deserted; a couple of wet sedans huddled near the door. Len parked just close enough to seem reasonable in this rain, though they were far enough from the building that they'd be hard to see, and well away from the other cars. Joe had been hitching long enough that he knew the drill. His cock twitched a little in the damp confines of his jeans. Yeah, this time it was going to be good. Really good.

"You're beautiful," Leonard said, a bit too loudly, then stopped. Joe could hear the sound of his teeth clicking together as he shut them.

Joe had been told that before, most often by women he was too sober for, in bars he was really to young to be in. He had a much better idea of what to do about it now.

"So are you," he said.

Leonard's eyes were wide and startled, his body stiff "I - I'll just go get us some coffee, then."

Joe stopped him with a hand on his knee as he fumbled for the door.

"Hey," he said. "You know, if you want, as payment..."

He slide his fingers up the fine fabric of Leonard's slacks, ghosted a touch over the bulge at his crotch.

And faster than Joe could have countered, he was crashing into Leonard's thin chest. Leonard's mouth was hard on his, all the strange tension in his body behind the determined press of his tongue. Joe opened his lips to let it in, palming Len's cock through his pants to hold him there.

"I don't want payment," Leonard gasped, and Joe ground his hand against Len's cock - god, his cock felt huge - and squirmed further into his lap so he couldn't try to bolt again. Whatever Leonard wanted was perfect as long as it involved both of them getting off, right here, right now.

Kissing Len took him right back to middle school, when he could barely think past making out with some girl, and how good it felt, and how he could just keep kissing her forever. He hadn't kissed like this since, well, only since he left on this trip last summer, but it felt like forever. Len was good, too, really good, stroking Joe's mouth as if he had forever to learn it, one hand fisted in Joe's hair to hold him in place.

The bits of Joe's brain that could still pay attention to anything outside Len's mouth were all very interested in Len's cock, which kept feeling bigger under Joe's palm. Fuck, he needed it. He wasn't sure he could let go of it long enough to get it out of Len's pants. And then Len's hands were down there too, fluttering around, getting in his way. Joe batted them away and finished pulling down the zipper and there, there.

It felt perfect - hot, silky, so hard, just perfect - and Joe had to look at it. Fuck, he really was huge, widest around the middle in a way that maybe should have been intimidating instead of delicious. Joe took way too much in his mouth, way too fast, so tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. He backed off a bit, feeling the length of it slide against his tongue, the delicate little ridge of the head, then opened wider, and let him slide back inside. Fuck, fuck, the little noises Leonard was making, those disbelieving little whimpers were getting him hotter than anything had, maybe ever. His own dick was throbbing, too hard for the small, damp confines of his jeans. Joe was almost proud of himself when he managed to get it out without losing the slow, smooth rhythm of his mouth around Len's cock.

Len tugged at his shoulder as soon as he did, babbling, "No. Please. I want to. I want you. Please."

And Len's other hand found his ass, wandering over the seams of his jeans and squeezing. Joe made a downright embarrassing noise, muffled around his mouthful. Len moaned and jerked above him, and Joe pulled off just in time to get come all over his chin.

"Oh," Leonard said, "Oh," and he was so pretty, spots of color on his cheeks, his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. Joe couldn't not touch himself, looking at Len's pale, perfect face, his thick cock soft in his open pants. He struggled up, bracing himself against the dashboard, until he was lounging back against the door, then shoved his pants down a little, giving Len a nice, clear view.

He was so, so close. Just the idea of coming with Len's pale eyes on him was almost enough. His hand was sticky with Len's come, and the taste of him was still in Joe's mouth. Joe wanted those long fingers wound around him, those pale lips on him, anywhere. And then they were, and Leonard's hand was so strong but surprisingly soft, and Joe couldn't stop himself. He came, panting into Len's hair, with Len's teeth scraping his neck.

"Sorry," Joe said, as Len leaned against him, staring mournfully down at his palmfull of jizz.

"It's all right," Len said. He turned his face against Joe's neck, and kissed him there, lingeringly. His free hand wandered up Joe's side, under his shirt.

"Those clothes must be very uncomfortable," he said, "I'll let you borrow something of mine for the ride."

"Thanks," Joe managed. Tucking his cock back into his cold, damp jeans was completely unappealing right now. He wanted to keep Len's warm face tucked against his neck for as long as possible, but his leg was twisted under him and starting to cramp.

Len sighed against him, his hand sliding down Joe's spine, then pulled away to hunt through the glove box. There were napkins, and then a nice view of Len's tight ass as he dug through his duffel again. Joe tried to get himself back in order without taking his eyes off it.

The convenience store's dingy little men's room even had a hand drier, so Joe could dry his hair . Len had given him a pair of nearly-new, totally nondescript jeans and a soft, thin sweater, the dorky diamond pattern all in shades of gray. The sweater almost smelled like it might have been worn before, but it was hard to tell. He looked odd to himself, in the mirror, like a tired, strung-out, freshly-laid punk who'd been kidnapped and sent to prep school. Len's eyes lit up when he came out, though. Joe thought he was probably right about the sweater.

"Here," Len said, handing him a styrofoam cup, "Extra blond. But, I was thinking. It's very late, and the rain isn't supposed to let up until tomorrow."

He was fidgeting with a heavy-looking white plastic bag. Joe was pretty sure he should be nervous about where this was going, or the contents of the bag, but mostly he just hoped Len wasn't going to change his mind and leave him here.

Len was still rambling: "The clerk told me there's a reasonably priced motel nearby, and I'll pay for the night, and you do look very tired, so I thought, maybe-"

"Yes," Joe interrupted before common sense could kick in for either of them. "Yes."

"Oh," Len breathed, "Okay. Good. I hope you like sandwiches."

"Sounds great," Joe said.

The ride to the next exit took fucking forever. Joe's heart raced like they hadn't just gotten each other off right in the car less than half an hour ago, and, okay, thinking about that was not helping him keep his cool here. He barely tasted his sandwich, or the second one Len pressed on him when the first one disappeared.

It was one of those tiny, tacky little chain motels, where the rooms all opened on a long porch. Joe peeked in the bag while Len was up in the office and found more sandwiches, candy bars, a large box of condoms, hand lotion, and a bottle of wine.

"It was the nicest one they had," Len said, opening the door. "It's from California."

Joe nearly dropped it.

"Um, it's fine," Joe said. "Thanks."

Len looked from the bag full of condoms up to Joe, and licked his lips. "We'll be in fifteen," he said, handing Joe the key.

Room fifteen had one very wide bed, and Joe couldn't even drop the bag and key before they were tangled up on it, sandwiches and condom box sliding around on the nylon comforter as they wrestled with each other's clothes. Joe got Len's glasses off, but found himself pinned under Len's long, surprisingly solid body, glasses dangling from his fingers just short of the table. Len bit down hard on his nipple, lunged and plucked them out of Joe's grasp.

"Aw," Joe pouted, mostly because Len had stopped licking him to get the damn things back on his face.

"I want to see you," Len breathed, stroking Joe's hair back from his face. "You look amazing. Look. Touch me."

He took Joe's wrist, and placed Joe's hand flat against his porcelain-pale chest. Joe's tan seemed even darker by comparison, and he shuddered, thinking how they must look together. Why couldn't it have been the kind of motel with mirrors on the ceiling? Len's heart was racing, and Joe could feel his cock throbbing, hot against Joe's thigh through the layers of their clothing.

"Pants," Joe said, and Len said, "Yes," and there was a further moment of struggle before Len settled back between his legs, so very naked, pinning Joe down and somehow not rocking against him.

"Oh, Joe," Leonard said, as Joe's hands wandered across his back, begging for any kind of movement, anything. "I want to take it slowly with you. To savor you."

"We have all night," Joe said, palming his ass and grinding up against him. "And plenty of condoms."

"Yes," Leonard hissed. "I just - ah - Just can't decide what I want first."

A whine caught at the back of Joe's throat. Len felt so good, his beautiful cock trapped right against Joe's, the wiry strength in his muscles holding Joe in place.

"Anything you want," Joe panted. "Anything."

"Joe," Leonard said, and kissed him. And that was good too, god, so good. And then Len rolled him over, and hiked his skinny legs high around Joe's waist, and fished a condom out of the box.

"You, inside me," Len explained, looking up at him hungrily.

"The lotion won't work with those," Joe said. His cock slid down the pale cleft of Len's ass, leaving a slight shine of precome, and he bit the inside of his lip trying to keep still.

"It was all they had," Len said.

Joe forgot the rest of his point, whatever it had been, when Len reached down, rolled the condom on him, and took him in a tight grip.

"Don't worry," he said, giving Joe that secretive little smile, "They're lubricated."

He settled back and guided Joe's cock down to press against his hole. A deft roll of his hips, and Joe was sinking in. Len was tight and hot and quivering around Joe's cock, gathering Joe in with both arms and the pressure of heels against his back.

"Fuck," Joe managed. They were both panting like they'd just run a mile, breathing hard into the same small space, tight together, all the way inside. Len's brows were knit with concentration, his eyes half-lidded, his lip still quirked in a pleased little smile. "You- You've done this before."

"You're my second," Len whispered, and did something with his hips that made Joe's eyes roll back in his head.

Joe tried to go slow, to be careful. But under and around him, Len wouldn't keep still, bucking, twisting, tugging on Joe's hips to show him how to move.

"Harder, please," he whispered, "Joe," and Joe couldn't not. They finished in a tangle against the headboard, Len thrashing as Joe pounded into him as hard as the slippery bedspread allowed.

Len shuddered all over and moaned like a lost thing when Joe pulled out of him, still clinging to him with arms and legs. Joe held him until he stopped shaking and let go, awkwardly suspended on elbows and knees, kissing whatever skin was closest.

The bathroom was way, way too far away, and Joe's legs were definitely not up to getting both there and back. Len saved him from a slow slide to the linoleum and half-carried him to the bed. Joe had no idea where he got the energy. He was glorious and flushed and naked, standing there in the litter of fallen sandwiches and condoms. Joe wanted to kiss him, or at least to listen to whatever he was saying, but he was already half asleep.

He woke once, in the dark, sweating. He kicked the blankets off his legs, and settled more firmly against the comforting source of heat curled against his back.

He woke again, too heavy to move, his cock hardening in the heat of Len's mouth. Len's hair was soft under his hands, and Joe could hear, could feel him humming to himself happily.

"Joe," Len murmured, biting his thigh, "Are you awake?"

Joe shook his head, slightly, and arched pleadingly toward the tickle of Len's breath. Len chuckled, rich little sound vibrating right against the base of Joe's cock. It was good to just float, cradled by the mattress and Len's palms, as Len's tongue played up the length of his cock, rolled ticklishly around his balls, dipped into the crease of his thigh. It was so easy to just let it happen, just ride each wave of pleasure as it rolled up his spine even when Len hoisted his knee into the cool air and licked lower, sending sharp stabs of sensation wiggling through him and - oh- inside him.

"Mmm're y' gonna - hah - put it in?" he slurred. He felt like he was melting.

Len froze, tongue curled inside him, pressing, before it slipped softly away.

"You- want that?" he asked.

Joe made half a sound that was supposed to be "Anything," waiting for Len's tongue to come back to him.

He was glad when it did, swirling and thrusting more urgently than before. And then it was gone and something else was there, Len's bony fingers, slick with something, scissoring him open.

Len was saying something, distantly, something unimportant, probably.

"M'clean," Joe muttered, flexing onto the sweet stretch of Len's fingers.

Joe frowned at his emptiness, as Len lifted his leg higher, spreading him wider, rolling him half onto his side. And then, it was easy as dreaming. Len slid inside him in slow, measured, relentless little pushes, stretching him so wide and filling him and filling him and fitting so perfect, all inside. He stayed there like he might stay forever, lazily petting Joe's cock, tongue doing wet things to Joe's ear. The floating was all red now, behind Joe's eyelids, and throbbing around where Len was buried inside him.

"Please," he said, squirming in time with that slow pulse. "Now."

Len must have heard him, because then he was being fucked, aching lack and shuddering busts of color and Len's sharp hips and all of him in so deep inside. It piled up, washing over and through Joe until he was clawing weakly at the sheets, until what was tight and twisting inside him burst open and swept him completely away.

He woke up. His body informed him, in no uncertain terms, that none of that had been a dream. He opened his eyes. The light was dim, a gray rain-wash leaking in around the heavy, flowered curtains. Len was smiling at him, propped on one elbow, not quite touching him anywhere. Topless, and hopefully naked under the sheet. Joe slid a hand over to check, and encountered bare skin. Yes.

"You must have been very tired," Len said. "You slept nearly twelve hours."

"Huh- What time is it?" Joe said, struggling half-up, but forgetting to look away from Len at the clock.

"Two in the afternoon."

"Oh," Joe let himself collapse back into the pillows. "Hadn't since Jacksonville, and that was only a nap."

Joe's voice was raw. He needed a glass of water. As if reading his mind, Len fished around behind him and produced one, watching closely as Joe gulped it down.

"Since you slept through check-out time," Len told him, "I had to pay for another night. Did you have somewhere you needed to be?"

Joe somehow didn't cheer out loud. "Nope," he said, "I'm all yours."

He arched into a long full-body stretch, still languid and relaxed and sex-sore, half-feeling the ghost of Len's cock inside him. He shivered, and Len lay a hand low on his hip, where the sheet had slipped down.

"I tried to wake you," he said, "But you didn't even open your eyes."

"Mmm," Joe's dick was starting to stir against his thigh, remembering. "Just make sure I have them open next time."

Len's nostrils flared, and his hand moved, and something really amazingly good probably would have happened, but Joe's stomach chose right then to give a loud, complaining gurgle.

"Oh," Len said, moving the hand up to pet Joe's abs, "You must be hungry."

"Yeah," Joe admitted.

"There's a little diner across the street," Len's voice was heavy and warm, like a big fuzzy blanket that wanted to fuck Joe into oblivion. "Food will keep our energy up."

"Lemme just grab a shower?"

"All right."

Joe's clothes were hung all over the bathroom, still damp but now, mysteriously, smelling much cleaner. The shower involved Len humping him into the wall, his soapy hand tight around their cocks, and his tongue in Joe's mouth. Surprisingly, it also involved Len massaging his scalp, his shoulders and back, carefully and thoroughly soaping and rinsing him all over. That was really almost as good as sex, and by the time they got to the actual humping, Joe was panting and nearly as melted as he'd been when Len fucked him that morning.

The same little voice that had thought Len was creepy was telling Joe he should be careful, that Len could - did - have him anywhere and anyhow he wanted, as if that were a bad thing. Clearly, that little voice was crazy. Joe was going to take as much as Len would give him, while he could.

It was one of those breakfast-all-night places, dented fifties retro with a big display case full of home made pies. They caught the post-lunch lull, so the place was deserted except for a couple of truckers hunched at the bar. Their booth was small enough that their knees touched beneath it. Or maybe Len was doing that on purpose. He ate very slowly, dissecting his blueberry pancakes with geometric precision, lazily stroking his calf along Joe's.

"Blueberries are very nutritious," he'd said, when Joe smirked at him.

Joe picked at the remains of his fries, and found himself talking about Memphis, where he'd gotten into trouble over that singer girl. It was also the first place he'd been offered cash for sex. He'd taken it. It had been easy. Joe changed the subject as soon as he finished rambling about Graceland. Lots of things had happened in Memphis that Len didn't need to know about.

Len handled the check so efficiently that Joe didn't have time to feel bad about being broke. Then he dragged Joe to the little pharmacy he'd spotted from the parking lot; this town apparently wasn't big enough for more than one block of stores and stuff. Len spent way too long comparing the labels of the personal lubricants, so Joe entertained himself by groping him when the check-out girl wasn't looking. From the look she gave them when she rung them up, she must've caught on anyway. But they had some brand new slick, some California wine waiting for them and the whole night all to themselves.

It was a white, with a terrible bite to it. They drank it anyway, out of flimsy motel plastic cups. The chocolate bars weren't as good for licking off Joe as Len apparently had hoped, though they lead to a lot of giggling and an impromptu hickey contest. Joe swept the size and darkness categories, leaving vivid islands of color dotted across Len's chest. Len won for originality, marking Joe in places he'd need a mirror to see properly, and making him squirm nearly off the bed twice. All that derailed neatly into the best blowjob Joe'd ever given anyone, judging by the frantic way Len moved against him, riding his fingers and fucking his mouth, muffling his whimpers in Joe's thigh. Joe barely noticed when he came himself, though it somehow wound up in Len's hair.

They polished off the bottle of wine, propped against the headboard, Len tucked against his side and clinging to his waist.

"'S not really fair," Joe told him. "Never been fucked while I was sober before. My buddy and I, we would always drink and then, like, blowjobs mostly." Len was still and warm, leaning on Joe's chest. He smelled good. "No one ever - ever-"

"I hope you don't feel violated, Joe," Len said, tracing the line of Joe's hipbone and down. It sounded like he was smiling.

"Jesus. Next time I'm gonna be sober and awake to get violated, kay?" Joe poked him in the side. "You owe me one. Sober an' awake."

"Of course," Len said. "I suppose I should tell you that I didn't come inside you. I wanted to, but it didn't feel appropriate, after you passed out."

"Passed out," Joe muttered, "Damn."

"Yes. You were definitely unconscious when I cleaned you up. I checked."

Len's cock was heating against Joe's thigh, nudging against it like a friendly little animal.

"Pervert," Joe giggled. "You're gettin hard 'cause you molested me in m' sleep."

Len molested him some more, in agreement, his clever fingers sliding up and down behind Joe's balls. Joe helpfully spread his legs a little further.

"An' you even licked me - no one's ever licked my ass before. Never."

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah. Yes. But I was, I was - nh - asleep."

"It was hardly fair of me," Len agreed, sliding down the bed.

"Damn right, I - agh!"

It was strange, and tickling and wet, and Joe wasn't even hard but he got that way, fast. Len teased him unmercifully, his hot, quick tongue darting everywhere and he kept pulling back and just looking at him, holding him spread open and exposed, saying things like, "Beautiful," and "Delicious," and "Oh, look how you're quivering." He kept blocking Joe's desperate attempts to jerk himself off, too, until Joe was begging mindlessly.

"I thought you wanted to be sober," Len said, and licked deep inside him.

"Fuck - ah - you can owe me - another."

Len smiled at him sweetly as he put on a condom, lips wet, glasses sliding down his nose. He slid two slick fingers inside, very fast, and Joe nearly lost it completely.

"Here," Len murmured, stroking his hip soothingly, "On your knees for me, please."

Joe whimpered as Len arranged him, spread his legs wide and balanced him against the headboard. And there - what he wanted, finally, the slick head of Len's beautiful cock pressed against him. Len circled and pressed right where Joe was still most sensitive, starting to open him up, then backing off again.

"Fucking - tease -" Joe grunted, thrusting back against nothing, "Let - me -"

"If you insist," Len said.

Joe surged back and suddenly the whole head slipped in, all at once, hot and perfect.

Joe couldn't shut himself up, grinding his hips down, working Len's thick cock up inside him as fast as he could stand. He stopped just as the stretch got to be too much and hovered there, circling his hips, grinding
the head of Len's cock against his prostate. He could almost come just from that - stretched open and seeing stars with each thrust. Len seemed frozen, lightly stroking Joe's hip.

"Oh, Joe," he breathed, "I wish you could see how good you look right now."

He took Joe's hand and pulled it down to trace where his skin was stretched tight around Len's cock. Joe closed his eyes, shuddering as he pictured it, stroking down to Len's dark pubes, then back up to where he disappeared into Joe's ass.

"How did you fit it all?" Joe asked, "You're fucking huge."

Len pressed forward another inch, striking sparks from that place inside Joe, making him nearly scream.

"Don't come yet, Joe," he said, squeezing the base of Joe's cock, "Not until I'm all inside you."

Joe bit his lip. It seemed endless, bracing against the wall with one hand, with the other, measuring the slide of Len's cock as it eased inside him. Len's fingers tickled against his hole, too, soothing and distracting. It was very nearly painful, and every inch of that thick shaft was dragging right against his prostate, and he was leaking precome everywhere. Len wrapped both arms around his waist and sat them back, letting gravity drive Joe the last inch down. And then he could feel Len's balls, his hips, the brush of his pubes, and the way his cock narrowed near the root. He really did fit, so perfectly, filling Joe exactly as much as he could take.

"Good?" Len asked, licking his neck as Joe tried to breathe. Joe could only nod and clutch at Len's thighs, willing him to stay still.

Joe wasn't sure how long Len held him there, tight against his chest, his hands wandering everywhere. He pinched gently at Joe's nipples, kissed across his shoulders and stroked his hair, then slid both hands down to fondle his balls. Joe whimpered as Len played with his foreskin, rolling it up and down, and all the time Len's cock wedged tight inside him, pulsing. And then, quite suddenly, as Len slide his fingers across the pink, wet head of his dick, Joe was coming, clenching and twitching around Len's cock. And then, Len had rolled him forward and was fucking him, each long, vicious thrust sending a hot aftershock through him, blindingly good.

"Fuck," he said, as Len lay wrapped around him, spooned against his back and still twitching inside him. "You are a fucking machine."

Len grunted in agreement, the sound so unlike him it made Joe's spent dick twinge again, one last time.

"Fuck," Joe repeated.

They lay connected for at least as long Len had spent fucking him, just breathing. Joe stroked Len's hands where they lay, flat and sticky against his skin.

"I want to kiss you," Joe said.

Len clutched him close a moment longer, then reluctantly let go.

Joe kissed him, licking gently at his lower lip, until he felt like his knees would support him. Then, he peeled Len off the bed and somehow navigated him into the shower. They held each other up and made out languidly under the spray, Len's fingers in his heavy, wet hair. Joe was going to be so sore tomorrow, but it was all worth it, he thought. So very worth it.