Marlontastic!

well im a gay ass dude, so technically my brain has already been MJ yaoi pilled before it even became a thing on tumblr lmaooo. Do with that that information what you will-

description: paul is secretly in love with his oblivious best friend, michael. when michael brings up asking out a girl, paul finally takes control on the studio sofa, easing michael's sudden panic and religious guilt to guide him through his very first time.

pairing: paulmccartney!michael jackson thriller!era michael jackson x paul top!paul bottom!michael

warnings: sexual content(mdni)    heavy smut    religious guilt    internalized homophobia    inexperienced michael      light praise dominance anal(michael recieving) unprotected sex

wc: 1.4k

THIS IS ALL FICTION(RPF) , IF U DO NOT LIKE THIS PLEASE DO NOT HARASS ME. INSTEAD BLOCK ME AND DNI, THX.

the afternoon sun slanted through the recording studio blinds, casting long, warm bars across the carpet. michael was pacing back and forth with a notepad, humming under his breath, while paul leaned back on the velvet sofa with an acoustic guitar resting against his thigh.

"so, I was thinking," michael started, running a hand through his dark curls, looking down at his paper. "there's this girl... sade. y'know, the singer? I saw her near the studio gate yesterday, and she has the most lovely smile. I was thinking maybe I’d ask her out for coffee later this week? what do you think, paul?"

paul’s fingers froze on the fretboard. the soft, casual strumming cut off mid-chord. he shifted slightly, looking down at his hands, his posture going unnaturally still.

"oh? yeah... sounds nice, mike," paul said. his voice was tight, clipped, and noticeably quiet, though he kept his tone politely pleasant. he didn't look up, but his jaw set just enough for michael to notice the sudden change in the air.

whenever michael looked directly into paul's eyes with those huge, pretty, expressive dark eyes of his, paul's chest tightened with a warmth that almost made him lightheaded. a feeling he’d been fighting off for months. but right now, hearing michael talk about some random girl, a sharp, bitter jealousy pricked at him.

michael paused, misinterpreting the quiet friction instantly. in his mind, paul was acting quiet because paul must be captivated by sade too. completely oblivious to the truth, michael grinned a little, pulled up a stool, and grabbed a pen.

"wait… are you jealous, paul? do you like sade… too?" michael chuckled softly, misreading the room entirely. "look, if we both like her, maybe we should just write a song about it. like a friendly rivalry. 'the girl is mine'… for my new album thriller, what do you think?"

paul slowly lifted his head, his green eyes dark and heavy as he locked onto michael. the girl is mine. the sheer irony made paul’s chest ache. michael was so utterly clueless, missing the fact that paul couldn't care less about sade, he only cared about the breathtaking boy sitting right in front of him.

"yeah, mike," paul murmured softly, setting his guitar aside. "let's write it."

paul pulled the notepad into his lap, his pen flying across the paper as he drafted most of the track right on the spot. on the surface, the lines were about two men arguing over sade. but every word paul scribbled down. every claim of possessiveness, every declaration of love, was written entirely about michael, right from paul's perspective.

michael leaned over paul's shoulder to read over the draft. "wow, paul... these lyrics are really intense. you really want her, huh?"

paul stood up slowly, closing the distance between them with effortless confidence. he didn't look angry; he looked completely in control, amused and terribly intent.

"i'm not writing about her, love," paul said, his voice low, smooth, and laced with a deliberate, teasing warmth. "why run around chasing strangers when everything you need is right here?"

a strange, sudden flutter bloomed right in the pit of michael's stomach, a swarm of nervous butterflies so intense it almost took his breath away. michael's eyes widened.

wait. what?

his internal thoughts scrambled instantly into full panic. he was supposed to like women. he’d been taught his whole life that this—this warmth, this sudden heat rushing to his face while looking at his best friend, was wrong, sinful, unacceptable. God wouldn't want this. michael only ever did stuff by himself, in the dark, touching himself under the covers while trying to keep his mind pure. he didn't do this with men. he didn't do this with paul.

"p-paul," michael stammered, taking a hesitant step back, his chest heaving slightly. "don't say things like that. it's... it's not right. we're men. i like girls."

paul stepped right into michael's personal space until michael could feel the heat radiating off his chest. paul reached out, taking michael's trembling chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting his face up. before his two fingers slid to his neck, his pulse point. "do you? because your heart is beating really fast, mike. and you're looking at me like you want me to consume you."

"i don't—i'm not supposed to—" michael's voice broke into a soft, breathless whisper. guilt weighed heavy in his chest, but the physical reality of paul being this close, smelling like cedar and crisp cologne, completely overrode his mind. he was entirely inexperienced, only knowing his own quick, rushed touch in solitude.

"shh," paul coaxes, his voice a commanding rumble as he gently backed michael up until the back of michael's knees hit the sofa. paul pressed a firm hand against michael's chest, guiding him down to sit, before dropping onto his knees right between michael's legs. "forget what you're 'supposed' to do. just let me take care of you."

when paul leaned in and pressed his mouth to michael's, all of michael's panic melted into pure surrender. the kiss was deep, possessive, and slow. paul took charge instantly, his hands gripping michael's thighs with a firm, unyielding hold, guiding his legs apart. michael parted his lips with a soft whine, utterly overwhelmed by the feeling of paul's tongue sliding against his, tasting him, claiming him.

michael trembled, clumsy and completely out of his depth, but paul took over seamlessly. his hands moved up to the button of michael's trousers, flicking it open with practiced ease.

"paul, wait, i—i don't know how—" michael whispered against his lips, frantic and flushed.

"you don't have to do a thing, love," paul murmured against his neck, nipping gently at his skin, making michael arch his back with a helpless gasp. "just stay still and let me have you. good boy."

paul pushed michael's trousers and briefs down together, exposing him to the cool air of the room before wrapping a warm, dry palm around michael's fully hard length. michael choked on a sob at the sheer intensity of the touch. it was nothing like when he did it himself; paul’s grip was firm, steady, and mercilessly skillful. paul stroked him rhythmically, his thumb sliding over the sensitive tip, gathering the slick beaded there.

"look at you," paul hummed approvingly, watching michael's face twist in helpless pleasure. "so sensitive for me."

"ah!... paul, please," michael begged, his fingers tangling into paul's brown hair, pulling him closer even as his mind whispered that he shouldn't be doing this. but the guilt was completely eclipsed by the overwhelming need paul was building inside him.

paul didn't make him wait. he coated his fingers thoroughly with his own saliva and glided a slick fingertip against michael's tight, untouched entrance. michael gasped, shocking at the sensation, writhing back against the velvet cushions.

"shh, open up for me, mike. relax," paul commanded softly, his voice leaving no room for argument. he pressed inside, slowly stretching him, his thumb continuing to stroke michael's length in slow, agonizing circles.

michael buried his face in paul's shoulder, whimpering as paul added a second finger, scissoring them gently inside him until michael's breath hitched on a sudden, sharp jolt of raw pleasure.

"there it is," paul purred into his ear, feeling michael melt around him.

paul pulled back just long enough to undo his own trousers, freeing his rigid, heavy length. he aligned himself with michael's entrance, gripping michael's smooth hips tightly to keep him grounded.

"watch me, mike. open those pretty eyes and look at me," paul demanded softly.

michael forced his eyes open, tear-rimmed and blown wide with dark desire, locking onto paul's. paul pushed in slowly, filling him completely in one long, deliberate stroke. a loud, high-pitched gasp escaped michael's throat, his hands gripping paul's shoulders desperately as his body tightened around paul's thick warmth.

"god, you feel incredible," paul groaned, his calm composure finally cracking into pure, primal desire.

paul began to move, pulling back almost all the way before plunging deep into him again. the rhythm was relentless and commanding. every time paul bottomed out, he hit that unbelievable spot inside michael, making michael cry out his name, entirely undone. michael was completely submissive beneath him, tossing his head back as paul used his hips to leverage deeper, harder thrusts.

"paul!..paul!" michael sobbed out, lost in the sheer overload of sensation. the guilt was gone, replaced entirely by the friction of paul's skin against his, the wet sound of their bodies meeting, and the intense, possessive look in paul's eyes.

"that's it, love, give it all to me," paul growled, picking up the pace, his thumb coming around to press hard against the base of michael's shaft with every deep thrust.

it took only a few more heavy, deep drives of paul's hips. the intense pleasure coiled so tight in michael's gut that it exploded, sending waves of heat crashing through his whole body. michael spilled across his own stomach with a desperate, breathless cry, his internal walls clamping tight around paul's cock.

michael's tight warmth surging around him threw paul over the edge. with a low, guttural groan, paul buried himself as deep as he could go and came inside him, his body shuddering against michael's as he held him pinned tightly to the cushions.

for a long time, the only sound in the studio was their heavy, ragged breathing. paul slowly pulled out and collapsed forward, resting his forehead against michael's, his hands gently brushing sweat-slicked curls from michael's face.

"see?" paul whispered softly, kissing michael's temple while michael's chest continued to heave. "nothing to be scared of."

michael blinked up at him through heavy eyelids, completely spent, feeling a deep, quiet warmth settle where the panic used to be. he pulled paul down against his chest, hiding his face in paul's neck, silent, completely his.

michael lay pressed beneath him, his dark curls scattered across the velvet cushions as his chest rose and fell in short, shallow gasps. his eyes were glossy, hazy with heavy pleasure, still trembling from how intense it all had been.

paul didn't pull away. he stayed hovering over him, resting his weight on his forearms, keeping michael comfortably pinned beneath his body. he reached up, using his thumb to gently wipe away a stray tear from the corner of michael's eye before trailing his fingers down to trace michael's swollen lips.

"look at you," paul murmured softly, his voice thick and deep with satisfaction. "you did so good for me, mike. so beautiful."

michael shifted slightly, a soft whine catching in his throat as the quiet in the room let a tiny flicker of doubt creep back in. "paul... i... what are we going to do? this is... it's not supposed to—"

"shh," paul cut him off gently, but with a quiet, undeniable authority that instantly stilled michael's rambling thoughts. paul leaned down, pressing his lips firmly against michael's jawline, making him shiver. "don't start panicking. look at me, baby."

michael forced his heavy eyelids open, locking into paul's steady, intense green-hazel eyes.

"there's nothing wrong with this," paul said, his voice low and completely in charge, leaving zero room for michael to argue. "you belong right here with me. you don't need to worry about anyone else, or what anyone thinks. i've got you. understand?"

michael swallowed hard, feeling the steady warmth of paul's hand sliding up to rest against the side of his neck, thumb resting lightly over his racing pulse. the sheer comfort of paul's dominance washed over him, completely melting away the religious guilt before it could take root.

"i... i understand," michael whispered, his voice trembling as he relaxed into the touch. "i'm yours, paul."

"that's my boy," paul purred, a soft, possessive smile touching his lips.

he pulled back just enough to carefully fix their clothes, then gathered michael up into his arms, pulling him flush against his chest as he sat back on the sofa. michael immediately buried his face into the crook of paul's neck, breathing in his familiar scent, his hands loosely clutching the front of paul's shirt.

paul wrapped his arms tightly around michael's shoulders, resting his chin on top of dark curls and gently stroking his back.

"no more talking about other girls," paul hummed softly against his hair, his voice laced with that quiet, protective warmth. "you're safe with me, mike. i've got you."

michael let out a soft, shaky breath, burying his face deeper into the crook of paul's neck. he closed his eyes and nodded, his fingers lightly gripping the fabric of paul's shirt. silent, warm, and entirely content to stay right where he was.

Captain’s Subject.

Content: SMUTSMUTSMUT MDNI. I'M SERIOUS.

Synopsis: After being kept in his chambers for so long, you finally decide to willingly give in and show EO how human biology works!

Genre: Sub!Captain EO x Dom!AA male reader

WC: 1.4K ⊹ ࣪ ˖

The observation chamber hums low and steady, the only light a soft amber glow along the floor seams. You're sitting on the edge of the examination table, bare feet dangling, when the door slides open without a sound. Captain EO steps inside, his white uniform and multicoloured catching the dim light in scattered flickers.

EO's luminous eyes tracked the data-stream on a floating panel, not you. Never you.

"Respiratory rhythm unchanged," EO murmured, breathy, almost to himself. "Epidermal temperature elevated zero-point-three degrees from baseline."

He just stands there, scanner in hand, those glittering eyes fixed on you with that same hungry curiosity you've grown used to. It used to make your jaw clench. Now it almost makes you smile.

"You gonna stand there all night?"

His mouth curves, just barely. He moves closer, and you don't tense. That's the thing that surprises you both-- your shoulders stay loose, your hands stay open on your thighs. He notices.

You watch his face as he watches the readings, his lips parting, his breath catching.

His fingertips graze your forearm-- light, deliberate, tracing the texture of your brown skin. He goes still. That complete stillness he does when something fascinates him beyond words.

"You've scanned me a hundred times," you say, your voice low in the quiet. "If you want to understand what I am, you have to look."

You closed your hand around EO's wrist. The captain's pulse jumped under your thumb, right where the glove ended and warm skin began. you held it there, pressed firmer, and lifted his gaze until EO's luminous eyes finally met his.

The bioprobe scanner beeped, ignored, its amber light strobing unanswered across the dark. EO's lips parted. His gloved fingers spread, trembling, over the beat.

"What is this signal?"

You didn't answer with words. You let go of EO's wrist, reached back, and pulled your shirt over your head. The cool recycled air of the observation bay hit your bare chest, tightening your skin, raising the hair along your arms. The shirt dropped to the deck.

"Your-- " EO's voice cracked. "You removed the covering…"

"Yeah," You took EO's gloved hands and worked the fingers free, peeling the leather off one hand, then the other. The gloves joined the shirt on the floor. EO's bare hands were warm, the palms slightly damp, the fingers long and fine-boned and trembling, worse than before. You pressed them flat against your own chest.

EO's breath stopped.

"This is skin," you said matter-of-factly, holding EO's hands there, letting the heat sink in. "Feel that?"

EO's fingers curled into the hair on your chest, then spread, tracing the shape of his pectorals, the give of the soft flesh over muscle. "It's.. warm. It's alive." The word came out strangled, reverent.

You stand. Your pants and underwear follow now. A quick shove down your thighs, kicked aside. You're naked now, your skin warm under the gold scanner light, and your cock is already thick, rising. You wrap your hand around the shaft, stroke slow. "This is what arousal looks like," you say. "Blood fills it. Makes it hard." EO's eyes fixate on your moving hand. His luminescent skin flushes-- a deep rose shimmer spreading across his cheeks, his throat, his chest.

His body ripples. The sequined uniform seems to shift as his form shifts. Between his legs, flesh sculpts itself into a human cock, uncut, already leaking clear beads of pre-cum. "I want to know," he breathes, voice cracking. "What you feel. Show me." You reach out and wrap your fingers around his newly-formed shaft. He gasps a sharp, stuttering inhale-- and his whole body trembles. You guide him backward. He lies back on the table and spreads his legs, surrendering.

You spit into your palm, slick your cock with it, and press the swollen head against his virgin alien hole. The tight ring of muscle resists for one breathless second-- then gives, and you push in, burying yourself deep inside of him in one slow, steady thrust. EO's back arches off the bunk. A high, broken whimper escapes his throat, his glittering eyes going wide and wet. His fingers dig into your shoulders, clinging, his whole body trembling around the intrusion.

"Full," he gasps, melodic voice shattered into something raw and human. "I feel full…"

You pull back and drive in again. His hole clenches wetly around your shaft, slick with spit and the pre-cum leaking from his own flushed cock. You set a deep, relentless rhythm-- pounding into his ass, your balls slapping against his cheeks with every thrust. Fast. Hard. The sound of it fills the dim chamber: wet flesh meeting flesh, his breathless moans, your grunts.

The glowing scanner lies forgotten on the bunk beside his hip, its gold light pulsing in time with your thrusts-- just watching.

You angle your hips and hit the swollen knot of what would be his prostate. EO screams a sharp, startled cry, his cock jerking against his stomach, leaking thick pre-cum that pools in his navel. His hole flutters around your dick, gripping you in rhythmic spasms.

"More," he begs, completely submissive, completely lost. "Please, more-- don't stop .."

You don't. You pound into him faster, relentless, chasing the tight heat of his ass as his moans climb higher and breathless. His legs wrap around your waist, pulling you deeper. His nails rake down your back.

"Fuck, I'm close" You say, catching your lower lip between your teeth as you drive in to the hilt and release, pumping hot semen deep into his ass in thick, pulsing spurts.

The sensation pushes him over. EO's cock spurts untouched, thick white cum streaking across his own stomach in rope after rope-- his hole spasming around your spasming cock, milking you through every pulse of your release. His cry breaks into a sob of pleasure, then silence.

His breath slows. His body goes limp beneath you, and he collapses against your chest, eyes fluttering shut.

Your softened cock slips out of him with a wet sound, and a slow trickle of your mingled semen follows, warm against his inner thigh. EO doesn’t stir-- he only nuzzles deeper into the curve of your neck, his breath small and even against your skin. His reshaped body is pliant and warm against your side, all that alien tension gone. You trace one finger down the long line of his spine, feeling the new human architecture-- each vertebra, the dip at the small of his back, the damp heat still radiating from his skin. On the floor beside the bed, the scanner pulses once-- a single flicker of gold-- then fades to darkness. EO’s weight settles fully against your chest, and his breathing slows until it matches yours, synchronized in the dark.

The darkness of the observation chamber is complete now, the stars beyond the viewport hidden behind some slow-passing nebula. You lie still, one arm wrapped around EO's pliant body, feeling the residual tremor in his muscles as they finally relax. Your own breathing has slowed, your heartbeat settling back to something like rest. The mingled scent of sweat and semen hangs in the warm air, and the sheets beneath you are damp with both.

EO stirs against your chest.

It's a small movement, just the shift of his cheek against your chest, the brush of his reshaped nose along your collarbone. His hand, which had been curled loosely against your ribs, opens flat against your skin.

"Stay," he whispers.

The word is so soft you almost miss it. His voice is thick with sleep, stripped of every trace of the clinical detachment he wore when you first met him. Just that one syllable, breathed against your neck.

"Stay in my quarters tonight."

You don't answer with words. You just tighten your arm around him and begin to shift your weight, preparing to rise. EO makes a small sound, not protest, exactly, but something close to gratitude, as you slide your other arm beneath his knees and lift him.

His reshaped body is warm and damp against your bare chest as you stand. His legs wrap loosely around your waist, instinctive, and his softened cock brushes against your stomach, still slick, still warm. You carry him through the dark corridor. The ship is silent except for the soft pad of your bare feet on the cool deck plating.

EO's quarters are dim, lit only by the faint glow of a standby indicator near the door. You find the bed by memory and settle him onto the fresh sheets. He releases a soft, involuntary sigh as his back meets the mattress, a sound of pure relief, his reshaped spine arching once before relaxing.

You climb in behind him, pulling the covers over you both. Your chest presses to his spine, your arm draping over his waist. He nuzzles his face into the curve of your neck, his breath small and even against your skin, and within moments it slows into the deep, synchronized rhythm of shared sleep.

A/n: so… how we feeling.. ? I decided to actually contribute to mjyaoi today so heh… hope ya like, inspired by @angelpuppyf4ce

Comment to get added to the taglist! (Also taking reqs in the mailbox)

You've got people who've just pulled out "THEYRE USING AI!!!" out of their asses even though authors state theyre just edited and some even link the og voice actors (wickluvsu btw ur welcome), you've got some people saying "umm this doesnt even sound anything like him" and then 2 comments later someone asking "omg is this really him??!?!??!?"

And of course for this to happen the tiktok/twt posters had to go onto tumblr, look through mj x reader/smut tags, listen to it despite the warnings, decide its weird, and then decide because its weird theyre gonna expose the normal public on other apps, who were not looking for mj nsfw, (including literal children) to it.

Marsenio NOW!

AFTER HOURS

Content: Subtop!Arsenio x Dombottom!Marlon

Warnings: SMUT. (MDNI), rough sex, light teasing

Synopsis: after an interview, Mr. Hall and Mr. Jackson decide to go out after hours. Only… Marlon seems to be in a different mood.

—-

The booth was too small for the energy between them. Marlon slid in across from Arsenio and the vinyl creaked like it knew something was about to happen. The restaurant hummed with late-night clatter. Forks on plates, low laughter from the bar— but their corner felt sealed off, the dim overhead light pooling amber on the tablecloth between them.

"You're still on, huh?" Marlon grinned, elbows on the table. "Even off-camera?"

Arsenio's laugh was quick, practiced. "Man, I don't got an off switch. You know that."

Marlon let the words hang. Under the tablecloth, he moved with deft hands— his fingers slow and quiet. His calculated palm found Arsenio's thigh, traced upwards. The fabric of Arsenio's slacks was seemingly becoming tighter— and warm.

Arsenio's hand paused mid-reach for his water glass. He didn't look down. "So you're like this, huh?"

"Like what?" Marlon's hand kept moving, slow strokes along the muscle. The tablecloth hid everything.

"Like—" Arsenio's voice dropped, rougher now. "You know what."

Marlon leaned forward, let his hand squeeze Arsenio’s thigh. His thumb pressed the inner seam, right where the fabric pulled tightest.

Then his hand clamped over Marlon's wrist — knuckles white, grip iron. He leaned across the table, voice a hiss. "I need to take you home… right now."

Cash hit the table. Arsenio pulled Marlon out of the booth.

The car ride had been silent. Not awkward, but worse. Charged. Marlon's hand had stayed on Arsenio's thigh the whole drive, and Arsenio had let it sit there, jaw tight, eyes on the road.

Now the porch steps creaked under their weight. Arsenio's palm pressed flat against the small of Marlon's back, steadying him, or maybe steadying himself. The touch burned through Marlon's thin jacket.

They stopped at the door. Marlon turned. The porch light caught the sweat at Arsenio's temple, the way his chest rose and fell too fast. Neither spoke. The air between them was thick enough to choke on.

Arsenio's hand came up slow. His palm cupped Marlon's jaw, thumb tracing the ridge of his cheekbone. The touch was deliberate— a question and an answer both.

Then, his mouth was on Marlon's. Deep and slow, no rush, no performance. His tongue slid past Marlon's lips, tasting, claiming. Marlon's hands fisted in Arsenio's shirt, knuckles white against the cotton, pulling him closer.

Arsenio broke the kiss. His forehead dropped against Marlon's, breath hitching, ragged and unsteady. For a long moment they stayed like that, sharing the same hot air.

Then Arsenio stepped back. His hand fell from Marlon's jaw. He turned toward the steps.

“I should get going, it’s— it’s late out.”

Arsenio's foot hit the first step down, and Marlon's hand shot out. Fingers twisted into the collar of Arsenio's shirt, knuckles digging into the starched fabric, and Marlon yanked. Hard. Arsenio stumbled backward through the doorway, a grunt escaping his throat, his body crashing into Marlon's chest. The doorframe rattled.

Then Arsenio's hands were on him— rough, desperate, nothing like the careful touch on the porch. He shoved Marlon against the entryway wall, the impact knocking a picture frame crooked. Arsenio's grip closed around Marlon's wrists and pinned them above his head, the plaster cold against Marlon's knuckles. Arsenio's breath was hot and ragged against his throat. His hips pressed forward, the thick ridge of his cock grinding against Marlon's thigh through his slacks.

Marlon's mouth found Arsenio's jaw, teeth scraping stubble. "finally," he breathed.

Arsenio released his wrists and dropped. His fingers hooked into the waistband of Marlon's pants and yanked. The fabric scraped down his thighs, pooling at his knees, his bare ass hitting the cold wall. Marlon's cock sprang free, already slick at the tip, bobbing against his stomach. His hands flew to Arsenio's belt— fumbling, tearing at the leather, the buckle clanking as he ripped it open. He shoved Arsenio's slacks and briefs down just enough to free his cock. It sprang out thick and dark, the head already glossy with pre-cum.

Arsenio spat into his palm. His hand wrapped around his shaft, slicking it with fast, rough strokes, his eyes locked on Marlon's. Then his wet fingers found Marlon's hole, pressing, spreading. Marlon's breath hitched. Arsenio lined the head of his cock up and shoved.

One hard stroke. Deep. Marlon's gasp tore through the dark hallway, his back arching off the wall, his hands scrabbling for purchase on Arsenio's shoulders. The stretch burned and filled him, his hole clenching around the thick intrusion. Arsenio didn't wait. He pulled back and slammed in again, harder, their skin slapping loud in the quiet house. Pre-cum leaked down Marlon's cleft, slicking the rhythm.

Marlon's legs locked around Arsenio's waist, ankles digging into the small of his back, pulling him deeper with every thrust. His cock ground against Arsenio's stomach, smearing wet streaks across the muscle. The friction was brutal and perfect. Arsenio's pace turned punishing.

"Come on," Marlon hissed, his voice cracking. "Fucking cum in me, Arsenio..."

Arsenio buried himself to the hilt and held. His cock pulsed, hot cum flooding deep inside Marlon's ass, and the sensation tipped Marlon over. His own cock jerked, spurting thick ropes of cum between their bellies, a raw moan ripping from his throat. His body shook, clamped tight around Arsenio, milking every last pulse of Arsenio’s member.

Arsenio's forehead dropped to Marlon's shoulder, his chest heaving, his legs trembling. Marlon's arms slid around his neck, holding him there. They shook together, spent and sticky, the front door still ajar.

Arsenio's hands slid down Marlon's slick thighs, lowering him gently until his feet met the cold floor. The only sound was their breathing, still ragged, slowing together. Arsenio lifted his thumb and brushed the damp curls off Marlon's forehead, the gesture impossibly soft after everything. Marlon's palm found Arsenio's chest and rested flat over his heartbeat— still pounding hard under the sweat. The tablecloth from the restaurant felt like a lifetime ago. Marlon laced his fingers through Arsenio's and tugged him upstairs.

A/n: hopefully this sparks new marsenio fans… i like both mjs so this was a pleasure to write.