Chapter 6: Drooling Submission
Marco suckled like a drowning man finding air, his mouth sealed wetly around Josh’s left nipple, pulling hard, groaning deep in his chest. The relentless suction sent jolts of sharp pleasure radiating through Josh’s core, tightening his balls. Drool slicked the dark hair of his pec, pooling on the curve of his belly. Josh’s fingers tangled in Marco’s shaggy hair, holding him firm against the burning point of contact. Marco ground his thick cock, straining obscenely against the stretched green dinosaur print of his briefs, against Josh’s damp stomach. The joint smouldered forgotten in the ashtray, its sweet smoke mingling with the musk of sweat and raw need.
"Good boy," Josh breathed, his voice rough. He shifted his hips, the movement pressing Marco’s face harder into his chest and reminding Josh again of the buttplug still inside of him. Marco whimpered in response, suckling harder, desperately, as if trying to draw sustenance. "But that’s enough feeding for now." He pushed Marco’s head back gently but firmly. Marco’s lips popped free with a wet, protesting sound, his nipple reddened, glistening. Marco blinked up at him, eyes wide and unfocused behind his fogged glasses, his mouth in a wide, easy grin and a trail of spit connected his lower lip to Josh’s tender flesh.
"Down," Josh commanded, nodding towards the worn rug in front of the couch. "Sit. Head back. Mouth open." He patted his own lower belly, just above the waistband of his soft grey shorts. "You get dessert right here."
Marco scrambled off his lap, movements clumsy with programmed eagerness. He lowered his heavy frame to the rug, sitting cross-legged, the dinosaur briefs straining over his thick thighs and the persistent bulge beneath. He tilted his head back against the edge of the couch cushion, his mouth dropping open slackly. His tongue lolled slightly. He stared up at Josh, waiting expectantly, breath quickening. Drool already began to glisten at the corners of his lips.
Josh stood. He looked down at the kneeling figure, a rush of power tightening his own cock inside his shorts. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pushed them down his hairy legs, stepping out of them. His erection sprang free, thick and heavy, bobbing slightly. He kicked the shorts aside. The raw, slightly tender ache from the alleyway toilet, the warm memory of Marco’s load buried deep inside him, throbbed in time with his pulse. He straddled Marco’s lap, facing him, his knees sinking into the rug on either side of Marco’s thick waist. Marco’s eyes, magnified and vacant, tracked his movements, fixed on Josh’s cock, then flickering lower.
Josh braced his hands on the couch behind Marco’s head. He adjusted his stance, shifting his weight forward, positioning himself directly over Marco’s upturned, open mouth. He looked down, meeting the blank stare. "This is what you wanted, isn't it, princess? What you begged for?" he murmured, a cruel edge under the softness. "Yes Doc. Gimme Doc," Marco practically chanted. "Open wider," Josh commanded.
Marco obeyed instantly, jaw straining open, his tongue flattening against his lower teeth. Josh took a deep breath, bracing his core. He began to lower himself, slowly, deliberately, sinking his ass down towards Marco’s face. Marco’s hot breath puffed against his balls, then his perineum, then his hole, still wrapped around the butt plug. Josh felt the wet warmth of Marco’s panting mouth getting closer. He clenched internally, focusing, remembering the thick deposit Marco had left inside him earlier.
He gently removed the plug with a soft, wet plop and settled his full weight. His ass cheeks pressed against Marco’s stubbled jaw, his balls resting heavy on Marco’s chin. His exposed hole, loose and slick, hovered directly over Marco’s gaping mouth. He bore down.
A low, guttural groan escaped Josh as he pushed. Pressure built inside him. He felt the warm, thick fluid Marco had pumped into him begin to slide, loosened by the exertion. It pooled at his entrance. He pushed harder, muscles working, knowing his hole would soon be gaping and flowing. With a wet, internal gurgle and a sharp grunt from Josh, the pent-up load surged free. Hot, viscous cum, thick and ropey, spilled out of him in heavy globs. It splattered directly down onto Marco’s waiting tongue, coating it thickly, dripping over his lower lip, onto his chin.
Marco moaned, a shocked, muffled sound vibrating against Josh’s ass. His eyes rolled back slightly in his head as the salty, bitter flood filled his mouth, overwhelming his senses. Josh kept bearing down, emptying himself, feeling the last thick dollops slide out. He shifted his hips minutely, grinding his hole against Marco’s mouth, smearing the remnants. "Hold it," Josh commanded, his voice strained from the effort.
Marco’s throat convulsed. But he held it. Marco’s face was a mess – chin and cheeks smeared with the thick, off-white fluid, more drool mixing with it, his eyes glazed with submission and the bizarre ecstasy of obedience.
"Look at you," Josh breathed, his own cock throbbing almost painfully. "Filthy fucking pig." He lowered himself again, but this time not to expel, but to claim. He crashed his mouth down onto Marco’s cum-smeared lips. It wasn't just a kiss; it was a merging, claiming domination. Josh plunged his tongue deep into Marco’s mouth, tasting the sharp bitterness of his own expelled load mixed with Marco’s drool. Marco moaned into the kiss, his tongue meeting Josh’s, tangling, pushing back, sharing the cocktail. Saliva and cum dripped from the corners of their joined mouths, running in sticky trails down Marco’s chin and neck, dripping onto his ridiculous dinosaur briefs and hairy chest. Josh sucked Marco’s tongue, licked the cum from his lips, then pulled back and let the mixture fall in a thin stream back to Marco, finishing with a messy explosion of spit. Relentless. It was primal, messy, a raw exchange of fluids and dominance. They breathed each other’s air, grunting, lips sliding wetly, the sounds obscene in the quiet apartment. Josh ground his hard cock against the bulge in Marco’s briefs. Marco arched up into the pressure, whimpering.
Finally, Josh pulled back, panting. A thick strand of saliva and cum connected their lips before snapping. Both men’s faces were slick, glistening. Josh wiped his mouth with his vest, removing it and throwing it towards his laundry hamper. He gazed down at Marco, a contented grin on his face, lying back against the couch, chest heaving, eyes unfocused, face painted with their mingled emissions.
"Now," Josh crooned, his voice low and melodious, dripping with satisfaction. He traced a finger through the mess on Marco’s chin, then pushed it into Marco’s open mouth. Marco sucked it clean instinctively. "What do good boys do after they’ve eaten?" Josh asked, pulling his finger free with a pop.
Marco blinked, the programming surfacing through the haze. His voice was thick, slurred by cum and submission. "Do. Do chores."
"Exactly," Josh said, a predatory smile spreading across his face. He pushed himself off Marco’s lap and stood, his cock still hard and bobbing. "But first, hydrate." The command was for both of them. Fluids required replacing. Marco ran to the kitchen and came back with four chilled bottles. They both finished one quickly, Josh deciding to slowly savour the second. Marco emptied the second and looked to Josh, hopefully. "Yes" is all he said. Marco ran back to the kitchen with the empty bottles, placed them in the recycling and got himself two more. As he finished the third bottle, Josh watched him expectantly. "Chores", Marco stated happily and went on his way. He retrieved his joint from the ashtray, relit it, and took a long, deep drag. The familiar burn hit his lungs. He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl towards the ceiling. "Get to work, princess. You know the drill."
Marco scrambled to his feet, his movements suddenly purposeful, though his face remained a debauched mask. He didn't wipe the mess away. He grabbed the discarded vest and scooped up Josh’s sweaty gym clothes, bundling them together with the rest of Josh's laundry. Head down, he lumbered towards the small utility closet where the washer and dryer lived, the dinosaur-clad bulge bouncing with each step.
Josh sank back onto the couch, stretching out. He took another drag on the joint, the weed softening the edges of his arousal into a warm, satisfied glow. The rhythmic thump of the washing machine starting up vibrated through the floor. Soon, the sharp tang of bleach joined the apartment’s usual aroma as Marco moved to the bathroom. Josh heard the splash of water, the rhythmic scrubbing sounds. Marco cleaning the toilet bowl. Josh had an idea. He got up and joined Marco in the bathroom. Marco stood in surprise, usually being left alone to complete his tasks. "In the shower" Josh commanded. Marco immediately stepped in to the large cubicle. Josh joined him and stood behind him, wrapping his arms around the young man's massive body. "Piss." Marco giggled and started to remove his briefs. "No. Piss. Now" Josh's orders now clear. Marco closed his eyes and sighed as his stream began to lead through the patterned underwear. Josh's fingers found Marco's nipples and started to play, twisting and pinching and rubbing at them. Marco whined, his cock becoming fully erect as he tried to keep peeing inside the tight pants. "Good boy" Josh purred in his ear. Marco giggled and sighed contentedly. Josh reached down, releasing Marco's trunk from the sodden fabric and slowly worked the piss-slicked thickness, his hands barely meeting around it's girth. Marco's moans became deeper, his breath quicker. Josh's hands went back to his nipples, finishing the tease with a last few moments of pain-pleasure for Marco. Josh stepped out, untouched by the emissions, washed his hands and told Marco to clean himself. He didn't want his beautiful sanctuary stinking of urine. Not all of the time.
Josh went back to the sofa and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply – the citrus bite of cleaner, the earthy weed, the lingering musk of sex and sweat. No trace of Marco's piss. He decided it was time for them to explore more of that. Marco seemed delighted. He listened to the sounds of Marco working, the obedient drone of the washing machine. He thought about Marco's heavy loads, mostly in his stomach, but some in Marco's too. The raw power of it, the complete subjugation, hummed under his skin like electricity. He gently stroked his chest, consciously luxuriating in this moment. The kitchen would be next. Marco would cook. Fuel them both. Preparing Josh for the next exertion. The next demonstration of absolute control. Josh smiled, taking another slow, deep drag, savouring the utter silence of Marco’s obedience. The apartment, his iron sanctuary, was in perfect order. Just the way he liked it.
The rhythmic scrubbing from the bathroom ceased, replaced by the clatter of cleaning supplies being stowed. Josh cracked an eye open, the weed softening the edges of the harsh overhead light. Marco emerged, face still faintly streaked with dried remnants of their earlier exchange, his dinosaur briefs the only garment clinging to his thick frame. He moved with that soft, easy, programmed efficiency towards the kitchen alcove. The familiar sounds followed: the fridge opening, the hiss of the gas stove igniting, the sharp sizzle of chicken hitting a hot pan. Josh inhaled deeply – the clean scent of bleach now mingling with garlic, herbs, and the underlying musk that never truly left his sanctuary. He took another slow drag, letting the smoke curl from his lips, watching Marco’s broad, hairy back flex as he chopped vegetables with surprising speed, his fat ass a pure delight and something Josh had plans for. Fuel for the machine, Josh mused, flexing his own forearm. His machine.
Minutes later, Marco padded naked across the worn rug, a plate balanced carefully in each hand. Grilled chicken breast sliced thin, a mound of steamed broccoli glistening with lemon juice, a small portion of quinoa. Simple. Clean. Efficient. Just how Josh demanded it. He placed Josh’s plate on the low table before him, then settled cross-legged on the floor beside the couch with his own. Josh grunted acknowledgment, passing Marco the last of the joint and he quickly finished it. Gentle, ambient electronica flowed from a hidden speaker, a stark contrast to the raw intensity still humming in the air. They ate in near silence, the only sounds the scrape of forks and Marco’s heavy chewing. Josh devoured his food slowly, not wanting to overburden his digestion, allowing the protein to hit his system, stoking the embers of arousal the weed always heightened for him. Marco finished quickly, knowing what was coming. He waited for Josh to finish and cleared the plates without a word.
Josh retrieved another tightly rolled joint from the small tin on the table. He lit it, the flame catching the paper with a soft whoosh. He inhaled deeply, holding the smoke, then passed it to Marco. Marco took it clumsily, his fingers brushing Josh’s, a spark of static jumping between them. Marco sucked hard, his cheeks hollowing, before exhaling a thick cloud that mingled with Josh’s next inhale. The shared smoke, the shared meal, the shared filth – it coiled tighter in Josh’s gut. He watched Marco’s eyes glaze further behind his smudged lenses, the hypnosis deepening its hold, smoothing any residual thought into pure, pliant need, but only because, ultimately, that's what Marco wanted. Hypnosis only did so much. Josh took the joint back, finishing it in two long, deliberate pulls. The familiar, heavy warmth bloomed behind his eyes, loosening his muscles, sharpening his focus on the ache low in his belly. He stood, the movement fluid, powerful. Marco watched him, rapt, his mouth slightly open, breath quickening.
Without a word, Josh padded towards the large bed dominating the far corner of the room. The sheets fresh and clean, thanks to Marco. For now at least. He stopped at the foot of the bed, his back to Marco. Slowly, deliberately, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts – the only thing he’d put back on after Marco’s chores began – and pushed them down. They pooled around his ankles. He kicked them aside. The warm air of the apartment enveloped his bare skin, softening his muscles, making his heavy cock sway. He climbed onto the bed, the mattress springs groaning softly under his weight. He crawled forward on hands and knees until he reached the centre. Then, with a sigh that was part exertion, part anticipation, he lowered his chest to the sheets, arching his back sharply. He planted his elbows wide, buried his face in the pillow, and pushed his ass high into the air. The position exposed him utterly: the heavy swell of his balls, the dark furl of his hole still slightly loose and glistening faintly from Marco’s earlier ministrations, the thick muscles of his thighs and ass taut. He waited, breathing deeply, the scent of his own musk filling his nostrils.
The silence stretched, thick with expectation. Josh knew Marco was staring, transfixed. He could feel the heat of that gaze on his exposed flesh. "Do you want it?" Josh called out, his voice muffled slightly by the pillow but thick with command.
A choked gasp came from behind him, followed by a desperate, ragged whisper. "So much. Please, Josh. Please."
The bed dipped violently as Marco scrambled onto it. Josh felt the heat radiating from Marco’s body before he felt the first touch – not tentative, not exploratory, but ravenous. Marco’s hands parted Josh's ass cheeks as far as they could go, his face burying itself between them with a wet, squelching sound. This wasn't rimming. This was slobbering. Marco’s tongue wasn't lapping; it was spearing, thick and hot and relentless, but slowly and deliberately, knowing it was now about the build up to the final release for them both. Josh grunted, pushing back instinctively, assenting to the deep probe. "Fuck... mmm... get in there" Josh sighed. Marco groaned in response, the sound vibrating against Josh’s sensitive flesh, his immense tongue sliding in and out, stretching Josh's gaping ring of muscle with each wet thrust. Saliva dripped freely down Josh’s taint, onto his balls, pooling beneath him.
Then came the fingers. One thick digit, slick with spit and Josh’s own loosening secretions, probed alongside Marco’s tongue. It breached easily, aided by the relentless wetness and the hypnotic command driving Marco. Josh hissed as it slid deep, curling slightly. "More," Josh growled into the pillow. "Give me another." A second finger joined the first, stretching him wider. Marco’s tongue never stopped, fucking the stretched entrance alongside his fingers, licking deep inside, searching. Josh felt the familiar, intense pressure building low in his gut, a different heat coiling tight. Marco’s fingers scissored inside him, stretching deliberately. Josh knew what Marco could do. He knew the bastard could make him cream.
A low, guttural moan tore from Josh’s throat as the pressure peaked. His hole clenched rhythmically around Marco’s invading fingers and tongue, and thick, viscous fluid – not cum, but slick, creamy precum-like secretion – pulsed out, coating Marco’s fingers and tongue. At the same time Josh's cock was oozing precum at an alarming rate. Josh made a garbled sound as Marco moaned like a starved animal, his tongue lapping frantically at the creamy ooze, slurping it directly from Josh’s spasming hole. He pulled his fingers out, thickly coated in the slick fluid, and shoved them past Josh’s lips. Josh sucked them clean greedily, tasting his own unique musk mixed with Marco’s saliva. "Good fucking boy," Josh panted, the taste flooding his mouth. "Now stretch me proper."
Marco needed no further urging. He grabbed Josh's dick, lubing his fingers with precum. He withdrew his tongue to spit copiously onto Josh’s gaping hole, then plunged three fingers back in, twisting, spreading. Josh pushed back hard, grunting with each stretch. The burn was intense, exquisite. Marco worked him relentlessly, his free hand gripping Josh’s cock, slowly stroking him in time with his deep breaches, his breath hot and ragged against Josh’s skin. He spat again, slicking the way, then forced a fourth finger alongside the others. Josh cried out, a raw, ragged sound, as the thick intrusion stretched him in agonising delight. His hole burned, stretched obscenely wide around the knuckles of Marco’s hand. Josh's face was a mask of pleasure-pain, no interest in words, in making sense, he just let the sounds come. Marco held him there, fingers buried deep, stretching him impossibly wide, Josh trembling with the intensity, sweat dripping down his spine.
Marco withdrew his fingers slowly, leaving Josh achingly open, his hole visibly gaping. He felt the heavy, hot weight of Marco’s cockhead pressing against his stretched, dripping entrance. Marco’s hands gripped Josh’s hips again, fingers digging in. There was no brutal slam this time. No desperate, tearing entry. Marco leaned forward, his chest pressing against Josh’s sweaty back, and pushed. Slowly. Inexorably. The thick, blunt head glided past the loosened ring with shocking ease, sliding in smoothly, aided by the copious slickness – spit, Josh’s cream, sweat and now Marco's pre-cum. Marco's searching mouth found Josh's neck, kissing ad licking his way around, moving to his ears, swirling them with his tongue. Josh gasped, a shudder running through him. There was no pain; it was a profound, deep filling. Marco sank deeper, inch by thick inch, his groan vibrating against Josh’s back, until his hips met Josh’s ass cheeks, balls pressed tight against Josh’s taint. He was buried to the hilt.
"Fuck Doc. Fuck Doc." Marco's chanting began, his voice thick with awe and submission. He pulled back slowly, almost all the way out. Josh felt his hole cling desperately to the retreating cock, then gape wider than before as the thick head squelched free momentarily. Marco pushed back in, just as slow, just as deep. Each withdrawal made Josh gasp as his ass opened wider; each thrust filled him completely, a perfect, stretching fullness. Marco set a deliberate, deep rhythm, grinding in, pulling almost out, grinding in again. Josh pushed back against him, meeting each thrust, lost in the sensation of being so utterly filled, so perfectly used. The stretch was constant, intense, bordering on overwhelming, but the slickness made it glide, made it bliss. The friction of Marco's meat and Josh's passage created an electricity inside Josh that he craved, but only someone as big as Marco could fulfill. Marco’s hands slid up Josh’s sweat-slicked back, fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him back onto his cock with each powerful thrust. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, punctuated by their guttural groans. Josh buried his face deeper into the pillow, muffling his cries, his world narrowing to the exquisite stretch, the deep filling, the raw, wet friction burning through his core. Heaven. Pure fucking heaven.
The stretch burned glorious, a white-hot bloom deep in his core with every grinding thrust. Marco pistoned into him, relentless, each deep slide punching breathless groans from Josh’s throat into the sweat-damp pillow. Pure fucking heaven dissolved into pure fucking need, the pressure coiling tighter, impossibly tighter, a live wire sparking under his skin. Time lost meaning. Only the wet slap of skin, Marco’s guttural groans vibrating against his spine, the exquisite agony of being stretched wider than he’d once thought possible. His own cock dripped a steady stream onto the sheets, untouched, forgotten in the overwhelming focus on the brutal invasion filling him.
"Christ... fuckin'... muscle bitch... ruining me..." Josh gasped, the words muffled, fragmented. He pushed back harder, meeting each slam, wanting the fire, needing that thick cock to activate that deep pleasure that only a cock like Marco's could. Marco’s grip on his hips tightened like iron, fingers digging into muscle, forcing Josh’s ass higher, opening him impossibly wider. The angle shifted, Marco leaning heavier, his sweat-slick chest plastered to Josh’s back, breath hot and ragged in his ear. "Milk prostate. Scream Doc."
He did. Marco hit that spot dead-on, a relentless hammer blow against the swollen gland. A raw, choked scream tore from Josh, his body locking tight. His cock pulsed violently, spitting thick ropes of cum onto the sheets beneath him entirely untouched, his ass spasming wildly around Marco’s relentless cock. "Fuck YES! Fuck... fuck toy... ugggghhhh" Marco roared, slamming home, grinding deep as Josh's hole convulsed around him, squeezing and massaging the fat cock inside of him, the intense orgasm ripped from him purely by the assault inside.
The rhythm didn't falter. Marco rode him hard through the shattering climax, using Josh’s trembling, overstimulated body without mercy. Josh whimpered, wrung out, the pleasure bordering on pain, the deep filling becoming a punishing stretch. He felt raw. Used. Perfectly broken. Marco’s thrusts grew more frantic, uncontrolled, his grunts turning animalistic. "Gonna fill you... Doc... pump you so fuckin' full..." Marco growled, hips pistoning wildly, a machine nearing its breaking point.
Josh knew Marco could keep this up for far longer than he could take. The bastard had seemingly endless stamina, especially when riding the hypnotic high Josh had spun for him. He'd heard that Marco had trouble lasting with women. He was glad to give Marco a better experience than that. Josh's own ass began to feel bruised, stretched beyond belief, every nerve ending screaming. The relentless pounding was becoming too much, the sheer size and force overwhelming. Yet. He gritted his teeth. He needed the finish. Needed the final claim.
"Stop," Josh commanded, the word ragged but firm.
Marco froze instantly, buried deep, trembling with the effort of holding back. A low, frustrated whine escaped him. Josh pushed himself up onto his elbows, forcing Marco’s sweaty chest off his back. He eased back, wincing as Marco’s thick cock slid partially out, leaving him gaping, aching. "Out. Slowly," Josh ordered, his voice rough. Marco obeyed, withdrawing with agonizing slowness, the slick, stretched rim of Josh’s hole clinging desperately to the retreating shaft. A thick glob of mixed juices, including Josh’s own creamy fluid, dripped onto the sheets. Josh rolled onto his back, the mattress protesting. His cock lay spent on his belly, still twitching faintly. His ass felt cavernous, throbbing. He spread his legs wide, hooking his hands behind his knees, pulling them up and apart, offering himself completely. "Now. Here. Look at me."
Marco stared, transfixed, his cock jutting, slick and hard, weeping precum. He moved with predatory intent, positioning himself between Josh’s splayed thighs. He gripped the base of his cock, guiding the swollen purple head to Josh’s slick, gaping entrance. Their eyes locked. Josh saw only primal hunger and absolute obedience in Marco’s glazed stare.
Marco pushed in. Not with the frantic energy of before, but with a slow, deliberate pressure. Josh moaned as the thick head breached him again, his overworked hole now numb. Marco sank in deep, impossibly deep, until their hips met. He paused, buried to the root, his gaze never leaving Josh’s. Then he began to move. Long, slow, deep strokes that scraped over every raw nerve Josh possessed. It wasn't about speed now, but depth, connection, ownership. Each withdrawal pulled a gasp from Josh; each deep, grinding thrust punched a low groan from Marco. Their locked eyes held a current of intense control and desperate submission. Marco’s hips snapped forward, hard. Again. And again. His breathing hitched. His rhythm faltered.
"Cum," Josh whispered, the command raw.
Marco cried out, a choked, guttural sound. He slammed home one last time, hips jerking wildly as he buried himself impossibly deep. Josh felt the hot, thick pulse deep inside him. Marco gasped, shuddering violently, his cock twitching, emptying load after heavy load into Josh’s raw, receptive channel. Josh watched it happen, felt the wet heat flooding him, saw the ecstatic agony twist Marco’s features, the absolute surrender in his eyes as he pumped his essence deep. Marco collapsed forward, bracing himself on trembling arms above Josh, spent, breathing raggedly, his softening cock still nestled inside, leaking the last drops.
Silence descended, broken only by their harsh breathing and the wet sounds as Marco finally eased out. Cum seeped from Josh’s stretched hole, pooling beneath him on the already soaked sheets. Marco rolled off, collapsing onto his back beside Josh, utterly drained. Josh lay there, feeling the warm wetness spread beneath him, a deep, primal satisfaction settling in his bones alongside the ache. Josh curled into Marco's warm body for a moment, their arms encircling each other.
After a few minutes, Marco stirred, pushing himself up. He moved stiffly to the small, tiled bathroom adjoining the main studio. Josh heard the shower spray start. He lay still, breathing the thick, musky air, absorbing the sensations: the sticky wetness between his legs, the deep internal throb, the lingering scent of sex and sweat and Marco. Marco emerged minutes later, damp but clean, water droplets clinging to his hairy chest and belly. He silently pulled on his crumpled gym shorts and t-shirt, the dinosaur briefs apparently discarded.
Josh put on a robe and reached for the joint tin on the nightstand, grabbing one last tight cone. Before he lit it, he held Marco's gaze and said "absorption". As he took a deep drag, the smoke harsh and cleansing, Marco came round. "Fuck, doc, your weed is always so trippy. The fucking best". Josh passed the lit joint wordlessly to Marco. Marco took it, sinking onto the edge of the bed, dragging deeply. They passed the joint back and forth in silence, the shared smoke hanging heavy in the room, mingling with the aftermath of exertion. The high was a familiar blanket, softening the edges.
When the joint was ash, Josh looked at Marco. His eyes were clearer now, the hypnotic glaze receding, leaving behind a dazed contentment. "Go home, Marco," Josh said quietly, the command gentle but final. "Get some sleep."
Marco nodded, a small, almost shy smile touching his lips. He stood, looking down at Josh for a moment, that lingering, confused contentment clear in his expression – happy, sated, but utterly unable to pinpoint why the encounter felt so profoundly necessary. Without another word, he padded out of the bedroom, through the living area, and Josh heard the soft click of the apartment door closing.
Alone. The silence was absolute, profound. The apartment smelled like sex and weed and bleach. Josh shifted slightly on the bed, feeling the cold, wet patch beneath him. He didn't move to clean it. He rolled onto his side, pulling a corner of the damp sheet over his hip. The deep ache in his ass was a pleasant throb now, a reminder of the ownership, the filling. Exhaustion crashed over him, heavy and complete. His eyes fluttered shut. He inhaled the scent of the sex-soaked bed, a primal, comforting musk. Sleep swallowed him whole.