Sparkling and Broken
Close and Visceral and Angry and Beautiful
His interview was today. He showered, shaved, made sure he spritzed on the expensive cologne and when he dressed, he primped and probed himself the extra bit just to make sure he looked as crisp as he needed to. Rhys even jacked off in the shower to release any extra tension he may have been storing up. With his sky-blue button-down, dark grey slacks and best silver accessories, he was ready.
The woman asked all sorts of invasive, personal questions. His rap sheet was thoroughly reviewed, and by the end of it, they were talking about his time in the marine corps, her husband’s time in the marine corps and her son’s current plans with the Navy. He was in. She found him charming, sweet and passionate, enough qualities to possess a job with her prestigious prep-school in Montauk. Rhys could start Monday. He was off to share the good news.
At home though, he was alone. And for the first time in years, he felt the loneliness down in a deeper, darker core of himself that he had forgotten existed. And it was in that dark recess he could feel the weighted, resounding sadness that he overlooked until now. Rhys ached with regret and he pained with remorse. Back into his sweats, back onto the video game; smoking a bowl, arguing with a sixteen year old over who would suck dick better. Nicki Minaj or Iggy Azalea. Rhys swore it’d be Nicki.
And he was grateful for the distraction.
By five, he was laying on the sofa, hard as a rock, letting himself go. Another joint lit up to slow-burn, the video games put away for another time, and he had some soft-core porno on, watching it for the storyline instead of the horrid love-making scenes. Because if life could just be like this movie, than everything would be good again. Everything would be fixed. He’d have his best friend back, he’d have a life back and the loneliness he was feeling would subside and ebb away. Rhys cleaned up before Joe got home and with a clever placement of a pillow over his groin, he laid down and flipped something rated PG on the television and attempted to fall asleep.
Magical words. I got you. He gave a relieved little sound as Rhys crossed the floor and joined him on the bed. Turned onto his back and his legs spread wide, he moaned and his back arched as the toy was turned on and pushed in deeper, spreading him open and his dick was taken and tugged, falling to putty in Rhys hand. “Yeah,” and he gasped and twitched, thick precum oozing over the thumb rubbing his head as the toy pressed against his sweet spot. “Oh shit, yes,” and his legs spread even further apart and his dick leaked over his husband’s fingers as he bucked and twitched at the toy fucking into him, toes curling and feeling heart hammer faster. He was so very close to busting all over the place, it was making him dizzy.
Rhys gave a wrecked moan of his own as he fucked his husband with the toy. He wished it was his own cock, his tongue, his fingers, something far more personal, but given their situation, this was the next best thing, and the fact Joe was letting him was all he even could ask for. Rhys pushed the toy in deeper, fucked it up against Joe’s prostate and gave his dick a gentle tug. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he said, using Joe’s precum for lube. “Baby, cum for me? Please?” Rhys slid the toy all the way out, edged Joe’s rim with it and slowly pushed the whole theing back in so that his fingers were nearly touching Joe’s hot, clenching hole. It even looked delicious. Wet, angry and delicious. He gave his lips a lick, hoping he could taste Joe on them, but wasn’t that lucky.
The rest of Joe’s day was very normal. He went to work, did his thing there, did a few errands in the afternoon like re-register at the various science related societies and boards he was on. In the evening he made dinner, finding Rhys no where to be see and went for another run before having another shower. He was naked and drying himself off when he felt his dick give a little twitch and he gave a small shrug, deciding yes, he was going to cum all over the place. Well, that was the plan. Dick in hand, fingers in his ass, he went to town. And as much as he wanted to, it was almost like he couldn’t cum. Maybe it was his fingers? He reached into his draw and rolled onto his stomach, pushing his ass in the air and pushing the vibrating toy into himself. His toes curled, his dick leaked and he moaned loud and careless at the feeling. But not matter what he tried, he just couldn’t get there, no matter how much he tugged on his dick or fucked himself with the toy, it just wasn’t happening. And that was how he was when he heard the door and he saw Rhys standing there like a stunned mullet. He made his own miserable sound, buried his face in his arm and arched up a little. “I can’t get it,” he said, soft and miserable. “I can’t, I haven’t-” and he swallowed and looked at Rhys, desperation all over his face. “Please?”
Blockage. The gift that kept on giving. And using the encouraging words given to him early this morning, Rhys approached Joe with swift movements of his feet, need burning in his eyes and he said, “I got you.” He joined Joseph on the bed, spun the man around so that he was on his back with careful, gentle placements of his hands on either side of his husband’s lovely hips. His legs open, thighs spread nice and wide, Rhys took a hold of the vibrating toy and turned it on. He licked his lips as he wrapped his fingers around Joe’s fat dick, tugging on him gently as he pushed the toy inside deeper. His own cock twitched in his jeans, heated with interest at what was happening. Yes, this was good. He’d use just this for fodder later. “Feel good, baby?” he asked, pushing the toy into Joe’s sweet spot as his thumb rubbed over Joe’s slit in his dick.
His hair was tugged on their lips sort of met, Rhys moans vibrating against his mouth and he shifted a little. “Cum for me,” he said softly to him and he made a small sound when his husband did unload so quickly, spilling over his fingers and his palm, over his chest and belly, and a little onto his shirt and tie. He milked him as he collapsed back, pumping and working him for every drop that he had. He stood straight when he was sure that Rhys had ridden through his orgasm well and truly and he smiled at his husband. “I’m glad I could help,” he said with a coy grin, licking his fingers clean as he looked down at his tie, which did indeed have cum on it. “I have to change my tie,” and he leaned in, pressed a kiss to his mouth and wandered back towards his room, one hand in his mouth being cleaned with swipes of his tongue, the other working the tie off for a trip to the dry cleaners, a special sort of sashay in his step. He was greedy for the taste, he realised as he sucked his fingers clean of remaining spend.
No coherent words were replied with as Joe walked away. Rhys just muttered some things and passed out. In his mind, or what was left of it, he was thanking his husband. He wasn’t even conscious for the kiss and had he known Joe was licking his cum off, there’d be some more grunting to be had. The marine woke by early afternoon and showered, deciding smelling like sex when he didn’t have sex was just unacceptable. He went to the gym for the evening and returned home after Joseph. After dinner time. In fact, it was late, very late and he hoped he didn’t piss his husband-slash-roommate off with his lack of clock-reading skills. He pet the dogs, set his keys down and made a b-line for Joseph’s bedroom. He gave a soft knock before walking in, intruding on quite a sight. “Oh-oh shit. Shit, s-sorry, I just.. wow.”
Joe was happy to see him not jump to cover himself, though he wasn’t sure if Rhys was able to do that exactly at this point in time. He gazed at his husband who gazed back at him and he licked his lips, watching him shift and rut and listening to his tormented, wrecked little sounds. It looked like absolute torture. He swallowed at the beg from the other and he gave him one last look over. Another amount of pleading and he gave a small nod, walking across the floor on barefeet. He leaned in, the smell of his arousal punching him in the face as his fingers curled over the back of the lounge and he smoothed his cool palm down the underside of the fat, hot, straining dick and he wrapped his long, slender fingers around the length and gave it a slow pump, fingers skating over the bit on the underside of his dick that made his drool, thumb pressing over the head of his dick and against the slit and he gave a small, heavy, breath. “I got you,” he said softly into his ear, tie dangling near his hand.
Every step Joseph took had his heart beating that much quicker, like it was beating in time with Joe’s footfalls. And he was so grateful. The man was so close, he could smell his shampoo, smell the scent of his body wash, the clean, crisp folds in his suit. Rhys could smell his skin, and it smelled so familiar and delicious. He breathed him in when the cool fingers wrapped tight around his angry dick. There was a long, drowned out whine that came from his chest when their skin touched. He coiled his fingers in Joe’s dark hair, tugged on it from the back and his lips pressed to his husband’s, just to the corner of his mouth in some half-assed attempt kiss that left him moaning instead of kissing. Joe hit that spot that did him in and with one lazy buck into the man’s fist, he was cumming, shooting white hot splashes of seed over his belly, up his chest, down and around Joe’s fingers. Hell, probably even on his shirt. Rhys’ vision went black, stars shooting behind his eyes as he released. Lax and limp he went, falling down into the sofa, ready to sleep and die happily, finally, Joe’s touch and scent being enough to drag him over the edge.
Joe felt better about them after their talk. It was a little step, but lots of little steps made up one big journey, so it left him confident. He rolled over and went to sleep when Rhys announced he was going to bed, laying on a half hard on but too lazy to do anything about it. His alarm went off early and he went out for a run and a little bit of yoga before coming back to the house. Into the shower he went, and when he was clean and primped and putting on his work clothes (dark grey suit, slim cut making him look lean and slender, white shirt, light grey tie) he heard the sound of porn. And grunts. In the den. He thought that he should mind his own business, but found himself moving towards the sounds. He paused in the door way and looked his husband over. The first thing was that he looked miserable. The next was that he was sweaty and worked into a lather and his dick was so hard and red and angry looking Joe actually made a small sound of pity. His hand clapped across his mouth as he realised he had made a sound and he stood still, looking at his husband, waiting for his reaction.
A sound of pity. Rhys was alerted by the sound of pure, unpretentious pity. The noise of the angel of mercy, looking over him, feeling sorry for him. It was the first time he was naked around Joe since their altercation. It was the first time he gotten hard, stayed hard and looked at Joe sexually since their fight. Nearly two weeks had passed, perhaps their longest without becoming sexually physical. It was difficult. Rhys couldn’t even put himself away. He was wrecked. Hie was tormented. His cock was burning, his belly was sore, his hands were tired. His last option was standing in front of him. Rhys shut his eyes and licked his lips before making a wrecked little sound. And then— “Please?” He bucked up with his hips, searching for phantom friction that wouldn’t come. “Please, Joe,” he begged again, eyes opening finally to deadpan on his husband. “Please? Touchmetouchmetouchme?”
Texting Joseph for the evening had the marine feeling more positive about their current living situation, however, the dramatic pause in his self-pleasure had made it near impossible for the guy to get it out. After hours of attempting, hours of rubbing, jerking, self-sucking, he was unable to orgasm. No matter what he watched, it was to no avail, he was blocked. Rhys, in a fluster, snuck down to the living room to get fresher air. His room smelled of lube and hot dick, and he was honestly hoping to find some better porn hidden away in his stash along with his video games. He put the DVD in, sat back on the sofa, lowered his sweat pants to his thighs and began beating himself off some more. Little grunts left his lips. His balls were throbbing for release, but when he still couldn’t cum, he sat there, huffing and swearing, miserable beyond reason. This fucking sucked.