Impractical Jokers: [Joker]x[Joker] Collection

Just One (Joe/Sal)

"Just one, Joey," Sal breathes against his neck in the dark of the living room. This is how movie nights always end: the movie will end and the TV, eventually, will turn off after being left static for too long. And then they'll sit there together, in darkness, the innocent thread of their fingers turning into something heated and crazed.

Joe steels his jaw as he feels Vulcano's mouth graze along it, hand that is conjoined with his tightening its grip and the presence of a palm on his neck has the man closing his eyes. Sal may rarely have the upper hand when it comes to his escapades with Gatto - he's naturally a dominant man, exerting both amazing strength and stamina in the bedroom - but he knows how to get his motor going.

"Sal," the Joker rasps shallowly, sighing wantonly as his lover's lips are replaced with teeth, the light scrape of them having the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end. It feels good, really good, but Joe just isn't sure if he wants to progress. Not like this. Not in such a dirty-little-secret fashion. He's head-over-heels for Sal, he doesn't want to feel like he's having fling after fling.

But as Sal's lips once again latch onto his neck, lightly sucking on sensitive flesh, all Gatto gives way to is a soft moan that seems amplified in the dark of the room. The twitch of lips– Vulcano is smirking. The bastard. And now he's being prompted to lay back against the couch; reclined though still heavily supported by his rear as Sal gains leverage and leans closer into the other man as he tugs on his earlobe.

"Just one kiss, Joey," he repeats, voice a lustful purr.

"It's never just one," the other man shoots back, though as Sal picks his head up and regards him with a firm look that even the darkness cannot smother, Joe feels himself leaning forwards and kissing him with vigour. There's something enticing about the way he tastes, something that makes him believe they're being romantically curious rather than curiously romantic. It takes everything in him not to flip them over and make love to him wherever he lands.

As Joe breaks away, panting lightly, Sal stares into his face with his mouth slightly agape. The silence all but speaks for itself: I want you. I want you now.And who is Joe to refuse? They lock lips once more, and this time Gatto doesfall backwards against the cushions as his counterpart straddles him. They're a mass of tangled limbs; a stretch of human pleasure as they peel layer after layer of material off of one another's bodies, lips exploring almost as inquisitively as they do when they connect. All the soft gasps, the tiny exhalations, the wistful sighs when one of them brushes just there... it all translates to some higher form of love-making, one in which can only be achieved when you know your partner inside-out.

Positioning himself above Joe, Sal pauses in his ministrations and glances up, catching the other man's eye. Even in the darkness, he can see that blue; a blue as deep as any regret he's ever found himself sinking in; but also as blue as the sky he's taken to when he becomes one with the other, euphoria staining his motions desperate.

Softly, Vulcano slides up Joe's body, takes one of the palm's supporting him from the couch and splays it across the man's neck before kissing him softly. His lower lip gets caught on the other's and it's as if they've never kissed before, clumsy apologies and breathless smiles shared between them before Sal takes the plunge and makes them one.

"You're right. It's never just one," Sal reiterates from earlier, not yet moving so that his partner can adjust. He could get used to this... he could fall in love with it. Who's to say he hasn't already? From beneath him, Joe laughs quietly; a hushed sound if ever he'd heard one, before pulling Sal closer and kissing him again.

"I'm cool with it."