Ricky stomps through the front door, huffing as he drops his bag just inside. He’s had a long day at the studio; not a single thing had gone right for him and Chris had bugged him all day because of it. At one point, he’d texted Justin and told him he was about to shove a guitar up Chris’ ass, but Justin had reminded him that Chris is fucking nasty and probably would’ve liked it.
As he walks down the hallway towards the kitchen, he can hear Justin quietly singing. He doesn’t recognize the song, but odds are good it’s some early 2000s emo band that most other people would be embarrassed they still listen to.
When Ricky rounds the corner a second later, he can’t help but smile at the state of things in front of him. Justin’s standing at the stove stirring a pot of something as he scrolls through a recipe on his ipad. His faded blue hair’s wild around his face, and he’s wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and an awful black hoodie with mesh across the chest and back and down the seams of the sleeves that Ricky had gotten him for Christmas the year before as a joke. Of course, though, Justin being Justin had loved it and now wears it almost constantly at home. He looks up at Ricky and smiles, his eyes lighting up with it. For the millionth time, Ricky’s slapped in the face with just how disgustingly in love he is.
“Hey,” he says quietly, moving around behind Justin and wrapping his arms around his waist. Justin leans down into him a little, grinding his ass down into Ricky’s pelvis in a way that practically makes him foam at the mouth.
“Hi. I’m making this soup I found online,” Justin informs him, and Ricky peeks around and nods.
“You okay?” Justin asks, his hands finding Ricky’s at his waist. Ricky tugs him in closer, burying his face in the stupid rough mesh of the back of his hoodie.
“No,” Ricky admits, closing his eyes. Justin hums quietly, loosening Ricky’s grip on him just enough that he can turn. Ricky opens his eyes and looks up at him, snorting out a laugh when he sees the two holes in the mesh of the hoodie that just so happen to align perfectly with Justin’s nipples. Justin rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance. Ricky reaches up and pinches one of his nipples through the mesh, and Justin lets out a little whine that Ricky is pretty sure had been involuntary.
“Do you want to eat?” Justin asks, but Ricky’s pretty sure they both know the answer.
“No,” Ricky repeats, and Justin turns around and clicks off the stove burner, moving the pot from the hot burner to a cool one.
“What do you want then?” he asks when he turns back to Ricky, but Ricky’s decided he’s done talking. Instead, he reaches up and closes his hand around Justin’s neck, his stomach filling with butterflies at the fact that his fingers, though long in their own right, barely even cover any of the real estate of Justin’s throat. Justin closes his eyes as Ricky squeezes just a little, just enough so that he knows what game they’re playing.
“Go,” Ricky murmurs, removing his fingers but still watching Justin closely. “Now.”
Justin starts moving at once, stepping into the hallway and then heading toward the bedroom. Once inside, he turns and looks at Ricky again, waiting for his next instructions. Ricky sighs, thinks about it. He only gets the urge to be overly dominant sometimes, but when the urge strikes, he likes to milk it as much as he possibly can. In that vein, some ideas float slowly into his head.
“Strip,” he commands, and Justin immediately reaches for his hoodie to pull it over his head. Ricky perches on the edge of the bed watching him. “Slowly. Work for it,” he clarifies, and Justin slows down, swinging his hips a little. Ricky almost smiles; Justin’s just so big and uncoordinated that the movements look jerky and a little off-center, but whatever. It’s sexy as hell either way.
Justin hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his pants, pulling them off as his hips still sway. He does the same with his underwear, and Ricky bites his lip as Justin’s dick is exposed, not quite hard yet, but at attention for sure, waiting. Justin stills, and Ricky reaches for him.
“Come here. Come stand in front of me.”
Justin moves accordingly, planting his feet between Ricky’s. Ricky looks him up and down, getting momentarily caught in the way his warm brown eyes are looking at him, expectant, content. Ricky blinks hard, raising his hands to Justin’s hips, tracing the angles of the bones with his thumbs.
Goosebumps rise over Justin’s skin and he lets out a breathy little gasp that makes Ricky smile wickedly. He leans forward, digging his teeth into the tender skin above Justin’s hip without any warning. Justin cries out and Ricky just bites down harder, sucking the skin between his teeth, his express goal to leave a bruise. He moves across Justin’s stomach to his other hip, biting as he goes. Justin’s already a mess, fully hard dick doing its best to thrust itself into Ricky’s face, but Ricky just smirks and shakes his head.
“No,” he says quietly. “Lie down on the bed.”
Justin does and Ricky stands, looking down at him. He’s on his back, legs so long that his feet are almost hanging off the end of the bed, arms at his sides and hanging past the already forming bruises across his hips and stomach.
“You’re just my pretty little slut, aren’t you?” Ricky asks, unbuttoning his own pants and pulling them and his underwear down. Justin groans, nodding. “Tell me. Tell me what a slut you are.”
“I’m a slut. I’m yours,” Justin starts, clearing his throat. “I’m just your little slut,” he says in a more gravelly tone, and Ricky can tell that he’s struggling to keep his composure. He yanks his t-shirt over his head, leaving himself standing there completely naked as well.
“What do you want me to do to you?” Ricky asks. Sure, it’s a little off-plan, but honestly he’s just genuinely curious. Justin lets out this little whimper like the question itself had completely wrecked him and he thinks about it for a moment.
“Bite me. I want you to bite me more,” Justin manages, all semblance of composure gone from his tone. He’s just whining now, begging.
“What else?” Ricky asks, and Justin gulps.
“And… and I want you to choke me. Maybe… maybe smack me a little,” he says, and Ricky nods. In the back of his head, he suspects Justin is only naming those specific things because they happen to be some of his own favorites, but at the same time, he knows Justin wouldn’t request them if he didn’t also genuinely like them, so whatever.
Ricky climbs onto the bed, doing the equivalent of awkwardly crawling up Justin’s legs. He’s sure it looks stupid, but Justin’s already so fucked out even though nothing of value has happened to him that Ricky’s not sure he even knows which plane of existence he’s on, let alone anything else.
Ricky stops, looks down. God, Justin’s got a whole fucking lot of thigh. This is a fact Ricky knew, of course, but for some reason the idea that’s now wormed its way into his brain has never struck him before. Without giving it much thought at all, he leans down and sinks his teeth into the meat of Justin’s thigh. Justin clearly hadn’t been expecting it; he jerks and one of his hands finds Ricky’s hair, fisting into it. Ricky gives him a look and Justin gasps and lets go of his hair at once, closing his eyes.
“Did I tell you you could touch me?” Ricky asks, and Justin’s eyes open. He shakes his head. “You know you’re gonna get punished for that one, right?” Justin nods solemnly. Ricky returns the nod, biting Justin’s thigh again, harder. Justin bites his lip to keep from calling out and Ricky smiles, doing it again and again before moving to the other thigh and repeating the process. On the last one, he squeezes just a little harder with his jaw, wondering absently how much force it would take to draw blood. He doesn’t have to wonder for long, though, because in a second his mouth is filled with a coppery taste and Justin’s squirming just a little more than he was before. Ricky backs up to see a couple of blood droplets running down the side of Justin’s thigh, hitting the sheet below it.
Justin doesn’t say anything, barely moves, and Ricky takes it as a sign to keep going. He does, moving back up to Justin’s hips and stomach, biting - albeit not as hard - as he goes. Once he’s satisfied with his bites, Ricky climbs up so that he’s properly straddling Jusitn’s hips, folding his knees so that he’s sitting on his pelvis, looking up at him. He can feel Justin’s dick under him twitching like crazy, and it doesn’t make him feel any less feral, that’s for sure.
“Tell me what you want,” Ricky whispers, and Justin does so at once.
“Choke me,” he says in a rough tone, and Ricky cocks his head to the side.
“Please. Please, choke me,” Justin corrects, and Ricky nods and does so, wrapping his hand around Justin’s throat again and squeezing. As he does, Justin’s eyes close and Ricky can’t help but grab his own dick, pressing it against Justin’s stomach with the palm of his hand and running the hand up and down it a few times. The downy hair under Justin’s bellybutton coats with precome and Ricky sighs. He can already feel the orgasm building low in his stomach and he curses himself for it. He wishes he could sit there forever with Justin’s big body squirming underneath him and his pretty throat in his hand, he really does.
“You gonna be a good boy and fuck me?” Ricky asks, and Justin’s eyes snap open. He nods. Ricky smiles, removing his hand from Justin’s throat and moving until he’s hovering over Justin’s dick. “Lube,” he commands, and Justin reaches for the nightstand and pulls the bottle out of the drawer, coating Ricky’s fingers with it. Ricky reaches around and warms himself up, making Justin watch as he lets out a couple of little moans that slip through his lips without meaning to.
“Ask me nicely,” Ricky instructs again, and Justin takes a deep breath.
“Please let me fuck you,” he murmurs, and Ricky nods, moving so that the positioning is right. He reaches around and puts Justin’s dick in the right place and then pushes himself down onto it in one fluid motion until Justin is as deep inside as he’ll go. Both of them let out whiny moans, and Ricky gets a rhythm going before leaning down over Justin’s torso. He plants a hand on his shoulder and just lets Justin thrust up into him for a few moments before taking his chin in his other hand and forcing him to look back up at him.
“You’re just fuckin’ nasty, you know that?” Ricky asks, and Justin nods wordlessly, desperation in his eyes. “Tell me.”
“I’m… I’m just yours. I’ll do whatever you want,” Justin mumbles, and Ricky has to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. Justin’s clearly overwhelmed, and it’s officially Ricky’s only goal to make him more so.
He raises his hand and whips it down onto Justin’s cheek. It immediately leaves a slight red welt and Justin groans. Ricky almost sees all the conscious thought drain out of him and suddenly his thrusts are much more unstable and wild. Ricky has to take a deep breath of his own before doing anything, and while he’s got his eyes closed, suddenly Justin’s hands are on his hips, shoving them down.
“Don’t,-” he starts, but when he looks back down at Justin, he knows it doesn’t matter what he says. In fact, almost as if to punctuate the point, Justin sits up so that Ricky’s in his lap, still riding him, but now with their chests pressed together.
“Do it again,” Justin whispers, his lips at Ricky’s ear. “Please.”
Rick does so, winding up and smacking Justin on the other cheek. Justin grunts and Ricky can feel him pulsing harder inside of him. One of Justin’s hands makes its way between them to Ricky’s dick and he starts stroking it roughly, his big hand making Ricky lightheaded.
“Oh… god,” Ricky says breathlessly, knowing they’re both close. He angles his head up and catches Justin’s lips in a kiss, biting his bottom lip as he goes. Justin whines, biting Ricky back and smiling into his lips.
“Come on,” Justin whispers, the words barely audible. “Now,” he adds, and Ricky calls out as he feels Justin come. His own orgasm comes moments later, covering Justin’s hand and both of their stomachs.
Ricky’s head collapses into Justin’s chest, and he’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s going to have come in his hair, but he just can’t manage to worry about it. Justin’s arms circle his shoulders, pushing Ricky down so that he’s just sitting there on his dick for a few moments as they both catch their breath. Justin lets his own head fall forward so that he and Ricky are cheek to cheek and Ricky can feel him smile.
“You broke the rules,” Ricky mumbles, and Justin shrugs.
“Rules are for weenies,” he tosses back, and Ricky can’t help but laugh quietly. “Do you feel better?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“Good. That’s all that matters.”
Justin smiles again, turning his head so he can kiss Ricky slowly. His lips are still swollen from when Ricky’d bitten them and it’s distracting, especially with his dick still in Ricky’s ass. Before Ricky can comment on it, Justin sighs.
He helps Ricky up and off of him, shaking legs feeling like they’d give out at any moment if Justin’s hand wasn’t firmly placed on his forearm. Once Ricky’s safely beside him on the bed, Justin smiles, keeping close eye contact as he raises his come-covered fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. Ricky grunts, shifting uncomfortably as his dick tries to recover.
“What? You wouldn’t let me eat my soup,” Justin says innocently, laughing when Ricky rolls his eyes.
“If you’re not careful, you’re gonna get to eat your fuckin’ soup when I pour it over your goddamn head,” Ricky informs him, which just makes him laugh harder. He clambers off the bed, crossing the room to get a towel. His cheeks are pinker than normal and there’s already bruises forming all across his thighs, hips, and stomach. His, Ricky thinks. Somehow, he really is his.
“By the way, you’ve got come in your hair,” Justin says with a sweet smile as he throws the towel at Ricky and runs out of the room. Ricky rolls his eyes, moment demolished. He laughs, shaking his head as he gets to work cleaning himself up.