Spencer is well aware of the fact that he could tell his husband to do absolutely anything right now and Joel would do it without question. He could tell Joel to undress himself, to stroke himself while Spencer watches, to get to his knees and beg for what Spencer has promised to do him; but the fact is, if Joel were to turn this around and demand all those things of him, Spencer would have no problem with it whatsoever. Both of them, he thinks, would like to believe that the other easily has more control but the truth--the better truth--is that they're always an equal footing, no matter what the circumstances. There's trust between them that Spencer couldn't even properly explain to anyone because it's a bit difficult to be willing to say to a friend that he's so in love with this man that even when Joel fucks him a bit rougher than usual, even when there are faint, finger-shaped bruises left on his hips after they've made love, it's always incredibly enjoyable because there's no fear that either of them will go too far.
When Joel touches him, Spencer doesn't have to be able to see fingers against skin to know that they're sparking. He can feel it, like he does every single time they're intimate, there's a magic between them that has nothing to do with power or control. They're in harmony, just like they always are, they're not competing because there's nothing left to win when they already have each other. So yes, Spencer plans on fucking Joel very thoroughly this evening but that doesn't mean that he wants to make his husband feel like he's being used in any way.
"Come here, baby," he says, keeping his voice soft and low before finishing off his whiskey and setting the glass aside so he can tug his own shirt off. He slides his hands over the expanse of Joel's chest, leaning in to nip at his husband's collarbone and smooth over the spot with his tongue, trailing kisses up his neck and along the line of his jaw. He lowers his hands back down to Joel's pants again, undoing the jeans and pushing them down along with Joel's briefs until they're pooled around his husband's ankles, and Spencer looks down between them with an indecent moan at the familiar sight of Joel's hardened cock.
He wets his parted lips, glancing back up at Joel with a small, slightly bashful quirk of his lips as his cheeks flush with desire. "You," he says, reaching between them to take hold of Joel's cock, rubbing his thumb over the tip and delighting in the pre-come that's already pooling there, "are unbelievably sexy, Mr. Waters-Baker, were you aware of that? It's practically a crime." He reaches into his back pocket with his free hand, producing a small bottle that he displays with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. "Remember when I stepped away to the restroom earlier? I came back prepared. But first..."
He pushes away from where they're standing, carefully guiding Joel backwards toward the desk on the other side of the room until he can lower him onto it. "First, I'm going to need to hear you beg." He sinks to his knees, keeping his eyes on Joel all the time before giving his husband's cock a slow stroke and leaning forward to take him into his mouth. He groans as he tastes him, sucking hard at the tip before taking him in further, all the way to the back of his throat and bobbing his head as he revels in the warmth and weight over his tongue.
This is his heavenly bliss, he thinks, being able to do this for his husband and knowing that by the end of this night, they'll both be so exhausted that they might give careful consideration to simply falling asleep on the library floor.
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When Joel touches him, Spencer doesn't have to be able to see fingers against skin to know that they're sparking. He can feel it, like he does every single time they're intimate, there's a magic between them that has nothing to do with power or control. They're in harmony, just like they always are, they're not competing because there's nothing left to win when they already have each other. So yes, Spencer plans on fucking Joel very thoroughly this evening but that doesn't mean that he wants to make his husband feel like he's being used in any way.
"Come here, baby," he says, keeping his voice soft and low before finishing off his whiskey and setting the glass aside so he can tug his own shirt off. He slides his hands over the expanse of Joel's chest, leaning in to nip at his husband's collarbone and smooth over the spot with his tongue, trailing kisses up his neck and along the line of his jaw. He lowers his hands back down to Joel's pants again, undoing the jeans and pushing them down along with Joel's briefs until they're pooled around his husband's ankles, and Spencer looks down between them with an indecent moan at the familiar sight of Joel's hardened cock.
He wets his parted lips, glancing back up at Joel with a small, slightly bashful quirk of his lips as his cheeks flush with desire. "You," he says, reaching between them to take hold of Joel's cock, rubbing his thumb over the tip and delighting in the pre-come that's already pooling there, "are unbelievably sexy, Mr. Waters-Baker, were you aware of that? It's practically a crime." He reaches into his back pocket with his free hand, producing a small bottle that he displays with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. "Remember when I stepped away to the restroom earlier? I came back prepared. But first..."
He pushes away from where they're standing, carefully guiding Joel backwards toward the desk on the other side of the room until he can lower him onto it. "First, I'm going to need to hear you beg." He sinks to his knees, keeping his eyes on Joel all the time before giving his husband's cock a slow stroke and leaning forward to take him into his mouth. He groans as he tastes him, sucking hard at the tip before taking him in further, all the way to the back of his throat and bobbing his head as he revels in the warmth and weight over his tongue.
This is his heavenly bliss, he thinks, being able to do this for his husband and knowing that by the end of this night, they'll both be so exhausted that they might give careful consideration to simply falling asleep on the library floor.