#brondus

Both men had short-circuited the moment the word 'mount' had left your lips, images of them hunched over your panting, slick body drowning out the rest of your request. When they had finally come to, shameless tents in their pants and predatory glints in their eyes, you had been rambling about how you had no one else to ask other than your boyfriend (some kid that Bundus had once said could fall into a barrel of tits and come out sucking his thumb) but he was at work and you didn't want to bother him and your friend was—

Bro had cut you off with a smile and a promise to be right over, and you had beamed at the both of them and sang your thanks as you retreated from their porch and skipped back on over to your own house just next door. Before your front door had even shut, Bro had found his back slammed against their own front door and his dick in a tight, rough grip. His hand had found Bundus's, and they had both moved in quick, sure movements that could only be the result of spending countless hours finding out what made the other person finish the quickest.

They had eventually shown up at your door, a tool bag in hand and desire still sitting in their bellies, and you had welcomed them in with a bright smile and the scent of something sweet in the air. It had turned out to be a cobbler baking in the oven, and if Bundus hadn't been stuck on you before (he had been—both of them) he surely was then.

The mounting of the television had taken longer than it should have, an hour long task at most turning into a four hour ordeal due to the two men taking the chance to satiate their curiosity. You had moved in months ago and they hadn't seen much of you past the quick run-ins on the way to work and the introductory quiche you had brought over, accompanied with a shy and cute smile and wave as you gave them your name and asked theirs in turn. Later that night they had both tried out your name on their tongue in a different setting, and found that they liked the sound of it more than they thought they would.

"When a pretty thing like you comes knockin' 'n askin' for help, how can you say no?"

You blink, eyes flitting between Bundus's crooked smile that's hidden underneath a thick mustache, to Bro who's once again taken a keen interest in finding out if it's possible to tell the color of your areolas through the fabric of your dress.

"Oh.." You breathe out, a nervous laugh following after, and Bundus lets out a chuckle of his own as he licks the spoon clean that's gripped in his hand. "I-I see you liked it!" You rush out, happy to change the subject, and Bundus scoops off another piece of the peach cobbler with his spoon, this time holding it out to Bro.

He's taken his eyes off your tits long enough to see the umpteenth save, and he walks over before taking into his mouth. He looks at Bundus as his lips close around the spoon, then over to you who can't help but watch the interaction with a look of interest.

"Loved it. Best I ever had. Real sweet." Bro hums in agreement as he comes up, and Bundus licks the spoon clean again. "Makes me wonder if the baker is just as sweet."

Bro laughs, loudly, and the sound wipes the shocked look off your face and replaces it with a mildly amused one. "Don't pay him no mind." The sentence comes out with a twang not native to him, and Bundus grins at the sound of it. "Es un idiota." You laugh next, and both men decide then and there that it's a sound they don't want to go another day not hearing.

—

"Ain't no way he's givin' it to her right." Bundus says aloud to himself, talking around the cigarette in his mouth as he leans back in the chair on the porch, sock clad feet kicked up and crossed one over the other as they rest on the railing. His eyes are focused on where your boy has just stepped out of his car –some little clown car that wouldn't fit even half his body– to meet you.

You've got a smile on your face, eyes bright and practically bouncing on the balls of your feet as you wait for him to make his way up the porch steps to you. He takes his sweet ass time getting to you, and he doesn't even smile back at you when you throw your arms around his waist and stretch up to give him a kiss.

From what they had gathered earlier, the place was an inheritance to you from your deceased grandmother, and Bundus can't help but think the guy's just shacking up for the time being. Even better, he thinks. Bundus had gotten lazier in his older years, more willing to watch things play out rather than have a direct hand all the time, and he had no problem waiting the young buck out. The kid had wandering eyes like most his age, and he'd eventually get wandering hands too, and then you'd wander your pretty self right on over to the two of them so they could make it all better for you.

He takes another drag, this one slower than the last, and holds the smoke in his mouth as he watches the way your dress clings to the softer parts of you. He can't remember the last time he and Bro had a soft thing like you between the both of them, and while he had never missed it before, he damn sure did now.

His cigarette ends up stamped out and laid in the windowsill where he'll habitually come and find it later, and he makes his way into the house to find his counterpart messing around in the living room. With his usual tact, Bundus presses himself to Bro's back, chin bumping against the top of his head and hand slipping underneath the man's wifebeater. He gropes at his stomach, fingers sinking into the soft flesh there, and then travels further up to grab at his chest neck, rough fingers tweaking at stiff nipples.

"That's your second one today."

"What is?"

"Cigarrillo. You cutting back again?" Bundus makes a noncommittal sound, hand unceremoniously dropping down to squeeze Bro through his jeans. He can feel him hardening underneath the coarse fabric, and he lets out a breath when he doesn't feel his own cock stir to life. "One 'n done?" He can hear the grin in Bro's voice, and he gives him a rough squeeze, forcing a pained groan from him, before moving to drop himself down onto the couch.

"Your lucky day."

Bro licks at his lips, eyes watching as Bundus pulls his clothes off as if he can't be bothered to make a show of it. He enjoys it nonetheless, peeling off his own clothing. He puts more care into it than Bundus, and while the older man can put on a facade as if he's annoyed by the fact that he's gonna be the one on the receiving end tonight, his eyes that drink in the sight of his now revealed cock tell the real story.

"I'd say I feel bad, but I don't." Bro's stomach tightens as he absentmindedly tugs at his hanging cock, the weight of it too much to stand up and bob in the air. A thick dollop of pre stretches down from the uncut tip to the floor, and Bundus's eyes follow the trail until a deep, throaty groan brings his attention back up to see what brought on the reaction.

He follows Bro's gaze, his own sizable cock, despite still being soft, hanging limp over his balls. There's thick patches of platinum blonde on his groin, inner thighs and cock, and on the mushroom head there's a shiny glaze of precum that steadily dribbles out.

There's nothing about Bundus's appearance that Bro would firstly describe as cute. Rugged, for sure. Handsome, absolutely. Sexy, every day. Big as all hell, continuously. But cute? The man's head brushed most ceilings, he had an eight foot wingspan, and if you caught sight of his shadow you might think Bigfoot really was stomping around out there. But the sight of his cock that had started sparingly listening to him once he hit the age of fifty-seven four years ago always brought that adjective to mind.

"And here I thought you'd take pity on an old man and settle for a handy." Bundus deadpans, the way his gaze focuses on the swing of Bro's cock as he steps forward revealing that he wanted anything but that.

"Like you settled for one last week, cabrón?" Bundus barks out a laugh, only for it to cut off into a groan when Bro pops a squat between his spread legs and gathers his flaccid dick up in his hand. "Couldn't walk right for three days."

"Well, when your dick chooses to work 2 days out the week, let's see if you don't get a lil' excited—shiiit." Bro licks at his weepy tip, tongue pressing into his slit and making Bundus jerk his leg up. He keeps at it, the both of them knowing it's not gonna get him any harder, but he can still feel the sensations, and Bro likes making people feel good – he likes teasing them, too.

"Had no problem getting hard this morning when you thought she was asking you to fuck her." They share matching grins, both men thinking back on how they had instantaneously popped stiffys as if they were in their teens again and discovering their very first porno mag. "Or maybe you just like the idea of me doing the fucking. I spoiled you too much, hm?"

Bundus goes to say something that would surely make a nun's ears bleed, and Bro chooses then to take his two lubed up fingers, the digits coated in a mix of his and Bundus's pre, and slides them into the older man's entrance. He grits his teeth, jaw working underneath his scruffy beard, and head tilts back to hang over the back of the couch as Bro works them in deeper. It's a snug fit for the fact that they haven't gone all the way in a while, the last one having been pressed into the mattress being Bro himself, and he goes slow to allow him to adjust.

"Lotta lip for someone that cums soon as I get halfway in." Bro adds another finger, watching the way Bundus's stomach moves in reaction to the addition. "And don't fix your mouth to make it like I'm the only one nippin' at her heels, you sonuva—won't you stop pussyfootin' and put your dick in already."

Bro's teeth sink into his bottom lip just as he sinks into Bundus. Despite all the times he'd found himself inside the older man, Bro moans like it's the first time he's ever felt him wrapped around his length.

The sound is muffled quickly, a rough hand snagging him by the back of his neck and jerking him down, and then a pair of chapped lips are mashing against his own. Their tongues meet, unhurried, a stark contrast to the way Bro fucks into him – the sound of their bodies meeting is loud: the slap of his balls with every snap of his hips, fat sacs clapping against the curve of Bundus's ass.

The hand on the back of his neck moves to instead grip at his ass, blunt fingers sinking into the giving flesh, and the action spurs Bro on more, muscled thighs tensed as he adheres to the silent demand. Every drive of his hips forces a grunt out of Bundus, his limp cock drooling, and Bro braces one hand on a brawny shoulder and the other on a soft, yet still firm, pec.

Their lips part as they suck in gasping breaths, spittle in their respective beards and goatees, and Bro's native language drips off his tongue as he gives deep, hard strokes – cock pulling out until only the sensitive tip remains, Bundus's rim holding on for dear life, and then stuffing himself right back in until he's pressing against that spot inside Bundus that makes his sun-kissed skin a feverish red.

Both men's words turn into nonsensical grunts and groans, eyes unfocused, and Bundus' head tips back once again, gaze straying to the open window and—

His lips crook into a smirk as your shocked gaze locks onto Bro who stands over him, brown strands of hair plastered to sweaty shoulders as he chases his orgasm. Bundus can feel his own coming, breath quickening and heart racing, and when a hand grips at his cock and tugs he's coming, weak spurts of cum dribbling over the back of Bro's fingers. He had loudly groaned when he came, prompting your attention to move to him, and his smirk turns into a full fledged grin as he shoots you a wink.

You jump out of your skin like a kid getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar, and Bundus is too amused by your reaction to give Bro shit for finishing inside of him. You fumble for the curtains at the sides of your window before snatching them shut, and now seemingly hip to the situation, Bro lets out a low laugh as he falls onto the couch beside him.