turps

Justin presses into the touch, his back arced as JC unzips and pulls and Justin's jeans are around his ankles, crumpled denim bunched around his sneakers.

JC starts to untangle, but Justin pulls up his feet, lets his knees drop open, looks along the line of his body and says, desperate, "Please."

"Shush, we've time," JC says, and he runs his hand over Justin's belly, down to the crease of Justin's groin. He shifts slightly when Chris clicks close, so warm and solid as he huffs, warm air against JC's ear. Then Chris bends his head, graceful neck curved as he follows the trail of JC's fingers with his tongue.

Justin moans in response, spreads his legs even further at the combination of touch, whimpering when JC slides his hand low, barely brushing Justin's dick and over his balls, a feather light touch that's immediately followed by the wet swipe of Chris' tongue.

Cheek against Chris' wool, JC thinks Justin has never looked more beautiful , his head back and eyes closed as JC stills his hand, his heart thundering as Chris slides his tongue over Justin's ass, leaving a slick trail as he pushes his way inside.