There's some part of Joel's brain that has just stopped working, he's certain of that. Spencer is fucking him with his tongue, licking and kissing and smoothing over the skin of his ass, and Joel knows he's done this for Spencer, he's even seen videos of men doing it to each other, but he'd simply had no idea how good it would really feel. It shouldn't surprise him, he's had Spencer's fingers inside him before, he's had Spencer fucking him, he's done this for Spencer and sees the way he reacts, but it still seems like nothing he's seen or felt comes even remotely close to this and if he were asked to describe it later, he knows he wouldn't be able to. That's the part of his brain that's shut down and left him just rolling his hips back, seeking more of this pleasure. It feels like his skin is on fire wherever Spencer is touching him and he's sure he's flushed all over, his skin warm and pink. There's sweat prickling his scalp and across his shoulders, but he knows it can't possibly be that warm in this room. It's the largest room in their house, the hardest to heat in the winter, he knows there's no chance it's too hot in here, but it feels like the air is heavy and thick, weighing down on him in a way that just drags another shiver and a groan from him.
The sound he makes when Spencer pulls back is a strangled, disappointed noise, and he discovers in that moment the part of his brain responsible for language is gone, too. All he can do is push back with a needy sound, but then he can feel Spencer's finger sliding into him, then he can feel two fingers, and his head drops back down to the desk with a soft thunk. He has his forehead pressed against the wood, his eyes squeezed shut and he's so grateful Spencer isn't paying too much attention to his cock, because he's certain if he were to touch him now, if he were to give a little more focus to stroking him, Joel would completely lose any hope of control within seconds. He's whimpering, trembling, and when he feels tongue in addition to Spencer's fingers, there's a very distinct moment in which Joel thinks his entire vision hast just gone grey and his hands grip the edge of the desk so hard that his knuckles have gone white.
His mouth works, his lips parting, and he thinks he's trying to form words, maybe even trying to say Spencer's name, but he just can't. Nothing comes out but another strangled sound and he finds himself wishing he could see this. He wants to know what they look like, he wants to see Spencer's face buried against his face, and another shuddering moan slides through him, his muscles growing tense as heat licks through his body. Spencer says he looks good and he doesn't even care of it's true because all he wants is to see how Spencer looks. He's willing to bet every last penny to his name that it's an incredible sight, that if he were to see it he would know without a doubt he's never seen anything so beautiful. His husband is perfect in every last way and while Joel knows he wouldn't change a single thing about this moment, not with how incredible he feels right now, he finds himself trying to picture it anyway. Because Spencer is beautiful.
Distantly he's aware of the fact that they're not alone in the house, but he doesn't think it matters much right now. While he's making sounds, while he's the furthest thing from quiet, most of what comes out of him right now is breathless and muted. There's not a chance he's carrying above the music at the moment, not when he can barely think straight enough to make a sound at all, and he presses back toward Spencer's fingers and his mouth, knowing it's only going to get better from here. Knowing soon enough his husband is going to be fucking him, pushing inside of him, making Joel feel like he's finally complete. It's the most right he's ever felt, having Spencer inside him or being the one pressing into Spencer's body. When they curl together, when their arms are around each other, when they're physically connected, that's when Joel feels like he's found the one place in the world he's meant to be, and while their relationship is so much more than just their sex life, he knows it's good that they've found this with each other. They have so much love, a connection he'd never even imagined, and it extends to every last part of their lives.
"Spencer," he finally manages to say, his voice shaking as he speaks. His eyes finally open and he finds he's staring down at the top of the desk, the woodgrain too close for it to be pulled into focus. There's so much going on inside him right now, so much more than he'll ever be able to make sense of, but what everything always boils down to is Spencer. Once again, it's just his husband who can make him feel this way, like every last part of him has been flayed open, spread wide for him. He's vulnerable and he's never been more safe all at once.
Shifting, his spreads his legs a little wider, planting his feet harder against the ground and he's willing to let Spencer do whatever he wants, but he's also willing to let his husband know how good he feels and how much more he wants from him. Everything about him is needy and desperate, the sounds he's making, the position he's put himself in, the way he arches toward Spencer hopefully. There's nothing about him that doesn't make it clear how desperately pleased he is right now and how badly he wants Spencer.
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The sound he makes when Spencer pulls back is a strangled, disappointed noise, and he discovers in that moment the part of his brain responsible for language is gone, too. All he can do is push back with a needy sound, but then he can feel Spencer's finger sliding into him, then he can feel two fingers, and his head drops back down to the desk with a soft thunk. He has his forehead pressed against the wood, his eyes squeezed shut and he's so grateful Spencer isn't paying too much attention to his cock, because he's certain if he were to touch him now, if he were to give a little more focus to stroking him, Joel would completely lose any hope of control within seconds. He's whimpering, trembling, and when he feels tongue in addition to Spencer's fingers, there's a very distinct moment in which Joel thinks his entire vision hast just gone grey and his hands grip the edge of the desk so hard that his knuckles have gone white.
His mouth works, his lips parting, and he thinks he's trying to form words, maybe even trying to say Spencer's name, but he just can't. Nothing comes out but another strangled sound and he finds himself wishing he could see this. He wants to know what they look like, he wants to see Spencer's face buried against his face, and another shuddering moan slides through him, his muscles growing tense as heat licks through his body. Spencer says he looks good and he doesn't even care of it's true because all he wants is to see how Spencer looks. He's willing to bet every last penny to his name that it's an incredible sight, that if he were to see it he would know without a doubt he's never seen anything so beautiful. His husband is perfect in every last way and while Joel knows he wouldn't change a single thing about this moment, not with how incredible he feels right now, he finds himself trying to picture it anyway. Because Spencer is beautiful.
Distantly he's aware of the fact that they're not alone in the house, but he doesn't think it matters much right now. While he's making sounds, while he's the furthest thing from quiet, most of what comes out of him right now is breathless and muted. There's not a chance he's carrying above the music at the moment, not when he can barely think straight enough to make a sound at all, and he presses back toward Spencer's fingers and his mouth, knowing it's only going to get better from here. Knowing soon enough his husband is going to be fucking him, pushing inside of him, making Joel feel like he's finally complete. It's the most right he's ever felt, having Spencer inside him or being the one pressing into Spencer's body. When they curl together, when their arms are around each other, when they're physically connected, that's when Joel feels like he's found the one place in the world he's meant to be, and while their relationship is so much more than just their sex life, he knows it's good that they've found this with each other. They have so much love, a connection he'd never even imagined, and it extends to every last part of their lives.
"Spencer," he finally manages to say, his voice shaking as he speaks. His eyes finally open and he finds he's staring down at the top of the desk, the woodgrain too close for it to be pulled into focus. There's so much going on inside him right now, so much more than he'll ever be able to make sense of, but what everything always boils down to is Spencer. Once again, it's just his husband who can make him feel this way, like every last part of him has been flayed open, spread wide for him. He's vulnerable and he's never been more safe all at once.
Shifting, his spreads his legs a little wider, planting his feet harder against the ground and he's willing to let Spencer do whatever he wants, but he's also willing to let his husband know how good he feels and how much more he wants from him. Everything about him is needy and desperate, the sounds he's making, the position he's put himself in, the way he arches toward Spencer hopefully. There's nothing about him that doesn't make it clear how desperately pleased he is right now and how badly he wants Spencer.