On the sofa- Brojohn
“Cut it out!” John protested, pushing Bro’s head away from the vicinity of his neck. “I’m trying to see what happens to Luke Skywalker—okay?”
Bro pouts—well, really, it’s just a slight turn of his lip that only the smartest of Strider observers can catch. Good thing that John’s been best friends with the younger Strider for years—so he’s always pretty aware of the slight variations in Bro’s expressions.
And right now he’s pouting like a five year old being denied a present.
Typical Striders.
John snorted, rolling his eyes at the older man. “Nope! No way is that gonna work on me!”
“But John,” Bro starts it again. And by it, John means the assault of soft kisses and sucks on the nape of his neck. “Dave’s gonna be home soon and I ain’t had my way with you yet.”
John fought a whimper, trying his damndest to focus on Star Wars. To be honest, he’s watched this one a thousand times and was pretty much just being stubborn.
“John….” Bro’s voice was dark and sultry as he trailed his gloved hand to the clothed crotch of the already writhing Egbert, rubbing his leather clad palm over the lump forming there. This time, John can’t stop himself from outwardly groaning, and Bro smiles that smug smile of victory.
John scowled but didn’t say no, so Bro took it as an invitation to reposition John so that John was on his lap, legs spread, still facing the TV. John glanced upward at Bro questioningly, but the man just shrugged and grinned.
“Continue watchin’ Star Fours or Star Trek or whatever. I’m just gonna busy myself with…” Bro popped John’s top jean button. “This.”
“Pssh, Bro. It’s Star Wars --ah! Shit, that’s fucking cold, dude!” John protested as Bro wormed his hand into John’s boxers, the flesh cold against the sensitive skin of his half hard dick. He let out a half squeak, half groan at the sensation. “ Fuck. ”
Bro sucked a spot behind John’s overly sensitive ears, the amusement apparent in his voice. He managed to grasp John’s full length before giving it a soft squeeze. “Hm? You want somethin’, hon?”
John was breathing a little erratic at this point, his head falling back on Bro’s chest. There was no way he was going to pay attention to the movie now. His cheeks were flushed in red splotches as he looked up at his Strider. “Bro. C’mon.”
Bro had pulled out his innocent act. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
John shoved his thumbs in his waistband and shimmed out of his pants and boxers a little more. He threw another lusty gaze at Bro. His voice dripped with sexual heat. “ Please.
“Sure.” His voice sounded a little dazed at John’s display. Bro began slowly, teasingly pumping John’s cock just to get him to full hardness. John marveled at how the leather glove bit into his skin, the friction felt fucking amazing. Now the pace was different. It was tortuously slow and unsatisfactory.
John’s frown deepened. “You give handjobs like a ninety five year old.”
Bro’s responding chuckle was quite hot and breathless in his ear. “And how would you know?”
John shouldered, trying to maintain his cool. “H-Ha, you’re hilarious. I d-don’t actually get handjobs from ninety year olds, you perv.”
“Hey, dude, I ain’t kinkshamin’ no one.”
“Brooooooo.” John whined.
“Right.” Bro picked up the pace and John closed his eyes in his own smug victory.
Bro was the master at handjobs—seriously someone should give this guy a medal. He knew exactly where to twist his wrist, slide his thumb, and palm the sensitive flesh. Soon John was a puddle of arousal—his glasses fogged up as he whimpered and moaned, writhing against Bro’s assault on his dick and the flurry of hickies on his neck.
“Please—fuck yes!” John’s close to sobbing in pleasure as the pace was almost too much for him to bear now, he felt like Bro’s hand was pulling him apart.
“Sing for me, sweetheart, huh? Your voice is so fuckin’ pretty—“ John keened loud enough that the neighbors probably heard. He was beyond caring at this point.
Bro continued, just as breathless as he was. “Yes, fuck. The neighbors’ll practically beg me to let you cum. But I won’t. Not less you ask real nice.”
John was close, the familiar burn pooling in his abdomen. He was going to have to beg for the privilege to cum.
“B-Bro, please! Please please please please!!” John begged, tears falling freely with the effort of restraint.
“Please what?” Bro smiled sadistically, slowing his pace just slow enough that John had to thrust upward into his waiting hand to regain the friction he craved.
“Please let me cum !” John begged with an edge of sexual frustration.
Bro paused, but his hand didn’t let up. He wanted for half a minute to say. “Now.”
And John came without hesitation, pearls of his sticky white cum ruining Bro’s clean glove. Bro continued to pump John through his orgasm until he was left a mess of shivering post coital nerves, he chest heaving and his heart pumping.
Bro tsked as he observed his ruined glove, and for a second John thought he was going punished for it. But Bro just slipped it off and tossed it under the coffee table, before leaning down to kiss John’s stupid postorgasm grin.
“Better than Star Wars?” Bro asked with a smug grin.
“Yeah.” John said with a pleased sigh. “Way better.”
===>
It was a few hours later when Dave found the cumsplattered glove under the coffee table whilst cleaning up a spilled popcorn mess. He didn’t hesitate to toss it in the garbage with a slur of colorful curses about just how fucking gross it was.