Love Is Ǝvil

54 But It's Time To Exorcise These Demons

"Marshall?", Ryan asked and petted softly through short hair.

He raised his eyes, a small smile on his lips. "Hm?", a thin hum. The hand softly stroking his head felt nice, loving even. Like a compliment for a job well done, which was true 'cause sometimes he was pretty and useful. A little meaning his life did have after all.

Ryan squatted down and kissed him briefly on the lips. Only a soft touch. "You're one of a kind, you know that?"

The smile grew a little shy. "Thanks?", and his voice cracked.

"C'mere, let me help you with this." Ryan opened Marshall's pants unceremoniously and freed the hard, leaking dick from its denim cage.

A relived sigh from Marshall that turned into a moan as big hands kneaded the hot flesh. His arms stretched out and around the broad shoulders, holding on to Ryan while he brought pleasure to Marshall's dick. Moaning and panting, the small thrusts of his hips jerked the toy in his ass. He came with a groan all over Ryan's hands. But he didn't let go of his friend just yet. A moment he wanted to enjoy this, the feeling of quiet and content, the fuzzy aftermath of a high when nothing else mattered but his own heartbeat.

Dull clamor of something falling in the house. Voices in hot murmur.

A kiss to Marshall's cheek. "We should get back." Ryan stood up but held on to Marshall's arms helping him up.

A pained groan as his legs unfolded from beneath him. "Fuck", Marshall muttered. Knees complaining, muscles prickling, bones hurting. Though, the toy twitched as delighted as ever.

"You okay, old man?", and Ryan chuckled at his own joke. He turned to the sink and washed Marshall's jizz from his hands.

"Fuck you." Marshall sank down on the closed toiled seat and stretched his legs out. "I'm not old. And we're the same age anyway." The tiles were fucking hard and his knees were already a little broken, that was the problem.

Ryan grinned at him. "You're five years older than me, that can mean a lot."

Marshall huffed and flipped him the middle finger. With the back of a hand he swept over his mouth, tears and spit and wayward drops of cum caught at the corners. He got off from the toilet seat and stalked the couple steps over to the sink, washing his own hands and face. The soap smelled like vanilla and he crinkled his nose. Marshall didn't like that. As he looked up, an embarrassing image greeted him: His usually light eyes dark from arousal, his face flush in a rosy color and his lips all red and swollen. Even though what dripped from the point of his nose was water, it was easy to envision something else. Marshall sighed deeply.

"You look good", Ryan offered. Easy for his friend to say, who didn't show anything from just now. Ink-black eyes filled with amusement, a grin on his lips and his clothes orderly again. Nothing told of their little intermezzo.

"Save it", he grumbled. Marshall dried his face, dreading to go outside to their friends. He needed a minute or two for his body to calm down, but they probably had been away long enough, suspiciously long. He closed his pants again, not even asking about the toy. Ryan wouldn't let him remove it anyway, he was sure. You don't want it removed. At least not, without a dick replacing it, slut. Marshall sighed once more. Didn't it usually take longer for it to come back? Not when you're playing sex games in public, little gay looking boy. Ain't gonna miss that! Fair.

Ryan opened the door and stepped outside. Now clearer to hear, their friends' voices came from the kitchen, so that was their direction to go. The smell of fried meat was in the air. When they entered the kitchen, both where surprised to see all of their friends up here. Sausages were sizzling in a pan and on the counter the makings for hot dogs were strewn around and their friends were lightheartedly squabbling over them, each assembling their own meal.