He pushes his thumb into Butch, pausing to give him a moment to adjust to the intrusion. Butch's muscles clench around him, and the King pushes in a little further, testing the waters. "You ain't going in dry, are you?" Butch asks, a little nervously.
"'Course not," the King says. "Hold your horses, I wanna enjoy this."
He pulls his thumb out of Butch's ass and leaves him there on the bed. He keeps condoms and lube (more pre-war finds, courtesy of Mick and Ralph) in the top drawer of his vanity for easy access. He chooses a few, and returns his attention to Butch.
He gets a few fingers full of the lube, slides them, one at a time, into Butch's ass. He clenches and shudders and sighs, but he's done this before and the process is smooth and easy. The king wriggles his fingers, stretching him out, getting him nice and loose, searching for his prostate. When he finds it, the barest brush of fingers against the sensitive organ, Butch squeaks and his muscles clamp down on the King's fingers, squeezing deliciously. "God," he rasped. "Christ almighty, I forgot how good that feels."
"You're so pretty like this," the King mutters, repeating the motion. "All spread out and rosy. Jerk yourself off. I wanna see you come."
Butch obeys, spitting into his hand and wrapping a fist around his rock-hard dick. He screws his eyes shit and pumps while the King massages his prostrate, and when he comes, he squeals and groans and hits himself in the chin with ejaculate.
"Oh god," he says hoarsely.
"I'm gonna fuck you," the King mutters, unzipping his pants. He's hard as a rock, ready and eager. Butch sits up a little, watches the King press the head of his cock against his readied asshole, bites his lip and shudders when he pushes into him.
The King goes slow, inch by inch, letting Butch acclimate to his dick. He keeps his hands on Butch's hips, holding him steady while he fucks his ass. Butch's hands fist in the sheets, chest heaving. He keeps up a litany of curses and pleas, and his needy gasps are music to the King's ears. Satisfied that Butch has adjusted to his cock, he starts thrusting, delving deep into Butch's eager ass with each motion. He can get in to the hilt, but it's not enough for Butch, who begs for more no matter how much of the King's cock he's already got in him.
"You feel so good," he moans. "Fuck me, fuck me please. More!"
The King obliges, increasing his tempo, pounding into Butch, his balls smacking his ass with each thrust. Sweat pours down his brow, and the hands on Butch's hips turn to fists. The kid's so eager and pliant, so needy and hungry for cock. And he moans so beautifully, tangled in the sheets and mewling, crying out for more, more, more.
The King gives it to him, pounding into him until he feels a tug in his gut that means he's ready to come. He pulls out and finishes on Butch's belly, painting his abdomen with streaks of white. He's soaked with come, his and the King's, pretty and flushed and messy.
Butch/The King, "Jailhouse Rock," 5b/5
"'Course not," the King says. "Hold your horses, I wanna enjoy this."
He pulls his thumb out of Butch's ass and leaves him there on the bed. He keeps condoms and lube (more pre-war finds, courtesy of Mick and Ralph) in the top drawer of his vanity for easy access. He chooses a few, and returns his attention to Butch.
He gets a few fingers full of the lube, slides them, one at a time, into Butch's ass. He clenches and shudders and sighs, but he's done this before and the process is smooth and easy. The king wriggles his fingers, stretching him out, getting him nice and loose, searching for his prostate. When he finds it, the barest brush of fingers against the sensitive organ, Butch squeaks and his muscles clamp down on the King's fingers, squeezing deliciously. "God," he rasped. "Christ almighty, I forgot how good that feels."
"You're so pretty like this," the King mutters, repeating the motion. "All spread out and rosy. Jerk yourself off. I wanna see you come."
Butch obeys, spitting into his hand and wrapping a fist around his rock-hard dick. He screws his eyes shit and pumps while the King massages his prostrate, and when he comes, he squeals and groans and hits himself in the chin with ejaculate.
"Oh god," he says hoarsely.
"I'm gonna fuck you," the King mutters, unzipping his pants. He's hard as a rock, ready and eager. Butch sits up a little, watches the King press the head of his cock against his readied asshole, bites his lip and shudders when he pushes into him.
The King goes slow, inch by inch, letting Butch acclimate to his dick. He keeps his hands on Butch's hips, holding him steady while he fucks his ass. Butch's hands fist in the sheets, chest heaving. He keeps up a litany of curses and pleas, and his needy gasps are music to the King's ears. Satisfied that Butch has adjusted to his cock, he starts thrusting, delving deep into Butch's eager ass with each motion. He can get in to the hilt, but it's not enough for Butch, who begs for more no matter how much of the King's cock he's already got in him.
"You feel so good," he moans. "Fuck me, fuck me please. More!"
The King obliges, increasing his tempo, pounding into Butch, his balls smacking his ass with each thrust. Sweat pours down his brow, and the hands on Butch's hips turn to fists. The kid's so eager and pliant, so needy and hungry for cock. And he moans so beautifully, tangled in the sheets and mewling, crying out for more, more, more.
The King gives it to him, pounding into him until he feels a tug in his gut that means he's ready to come. He pulls out and finishes on Butch's belly, painting his abdomen with streaks of white. He's soaked with come, his and the King's, pretty and flushed and messy.