"oh fuck, oh god. harder." tim doesn't recognize the sound of his own voice but he knows it's him talking because he's the one getting fucked, he's the one clinging to beck's arms as richie fucks him into beck. tim reaches one hand back, grabbing richie's thigh and spreading his own legs further, letting the other man fuck into him even deeper. he feels surrounded because he is, beck in front and richie behind, and he doesn't want to run away, just wants to stay right here.

"jesus christ, is your shirt painted on?" he mumbles the compliment against Beck's throat where his mouth has been practically fused since he pushed the older man against the door of his bedroom. "swear to fucking christ been staring at your shoulders since you got here." work on the bikes had drifted away from the bikes pretty quickly.

Tim breaks first, which is by far the worst fucking part of this, because he knows that it's going to go straight to Beck's head. He doesn't even bother to say anything to the guy that had his hands on Tim's waist, trying to get him closer. Tim just shrugs him away and makes his way, quickly. to where Beck has his arm around a woman at the bar.

"Hey!" The woman is rightfully pissed when Tim drags Beck away from her but Tim finds that his anger, his jealousy, is enough that he doesn't fucking care. They're just supposed to be friends, friends who tear each other's clothes off pretty often but just friends. And they're still just friends when Tim shoves Beck into the bathroom and locks the door behind them, he's only slightly thinking about how pissed off that woman must be.

Mostly he's just thinking about the way he want to make Beck come and forget about her. "Take off your pants." Tim practically growls out the order as he pulls his own down. This is terrible idea, one of his worst really, but he can't get the image of her nails on Beck's skin out of his head, he needs to make his fucking mark on him instead.

Tim hates him, he's sure of that, he hates Beck like he's never hated someone in his life. "I'm going to fuckin' kill you," just in case the way he'd been glaring at him for the past ages wasn't clear.

Beck's breath against the line of Tim's jaw is the first thing he feels, and then the long, long line of his body is against Tim's back. "Are you awake?" That fucking voice, Tim's already hard just from the touch and the sound of him so he nods, reaching behind himself to grab onto Beck's hand and bring it around until the older man can feel how hard Tim is.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm up." He feels more than hears Beck's laugh behind him but he still wraps that thick hand around him and tugs Tim back harder against him so that he can feel how hard Beck is himself.

The length of his cock nudges at Tim's ass, and Tim so kindly releases Beck's hand to reach back and pull himself open. He's still sore from the night before but that just makes the stretch of Beck pushing in even better, even hotter because he knows that he'll be feeling every inch of it all day. "Feel so fucking good," Beck's voice is a murmur into his ear and Tim smiles, letting his head fall into the pillow he was sleeping on. "Almost all the way inside."

That seems to do it, to break some fucking spell apparently, and then Tim is awake. Sitting up in his empty bed, painfully hard and already reaching for his phone.

It's the gap that gets Beck . the drawn out moment in time between the ticks colouring in to show that Xander had OPENED the message to when the little speech bubble appeared to signal he was finally typing a response . So we're sexting now ?? apparently . He's touching himself idly as he waits between messages . LAZY movements of his fist , of his fingers over the head of his cock . There's no rush behind it , just filling the time until hr gets what he wants. He smirks at the latest text , it humours him that the hunter is right next door && that they're texting like teenagers. Thumb holds down the voice-note button , a quiet beep notifying him that he can start his message . Beck's voice is low && quiet , breathing uneven . " I think i've got it , don't you worry about me - the one thing you can always count on is that I can look after myself ... " his voice hitches on the last word , but all of them shake with the exertion && lack of air in his lungs . " how was your day ? " there's a wet , sound in the background as he smooths his own precum over his tip - a moan following but being cut off as his finger slips off the button . Beck's head shifts on his pillow , he finds the button again . " i didn't see you for dinner " he adds , " everything alright ? "

IT'S A VOICE NOTE. XANDER curses at the sight of it, sitting there taunting him with that little button he could so easily PRESS to play. But he's not sure where Lillian is at the moment, and despite not exactly CARING if anyone actually heard him it felt too INTIMATE to just let the sound run rampant in his room. So he pulls his hand from his aching member and huffs a little at the sudden ABSENCE, crawling the two feet to the edge of his bed where his headphones sat.

The hunter listens to the sound file twice. Once, to hear what he had to say, the second was just for him. The SECOND was to listen to the sound of Beck's breath hitching, the slight moan that fills the space before it's cut off in a brutal reality check that has Xander reeling.

How was he already this far gone ?

The breath that the hunter takes is shaky, and he considers his options at a very rapid speed. He could send him a message back, over text, which was most likely the SAFEST bet, because he's not sure how he'll sound like right now and he KNOWS the other man will never let him live it down if he's as broken as he feels. Or he could just send him a video.

[ text / BECK ] : Very, very long.

He's tugged his black sweats down a bit, hand wrapped around his cock as he strokes himself with careful precision. Xander's got his finger on the record button, and for a second he considers MUTING the audio -- making the musician wonder the effect he had on him ( a shuddering breath as he pads his thumb over the tip of his erection and imagines it's Beck's tongue instead ) -- but then he's pressing send, laying back and imagining the larger man doing the same thing. God, they were so close to each other and yet SO FAR. It was driving him mad.