#joshwriting

There was something about you, laying there, peacful and defenseless, that really drove Josh crazy.

Your soft breaths, your parted lips, the way your ass was pushed in the air just a little as you lay on your stomach with your knee hitched up; your favorite sleeping position.

It didn’t matter that you had given Josh permission when he admitted his depraved fantasy to you in a shaky voice, didn’t matter that you told him that you were into it too, his heart was still racing with the idea as his fingers gently danced over your skin. the only light in the room was the full moon streaming through the window, illuminating your soft skin as he trembled with anticipation beside you.

His girl. his sweet, lovely girlfriend. So willing to give him anything he wants no matter how depraved it is. He’s never felt so lucky. So accepted for being perverted.

He pulls the thin sheet further down to get a look at your ass. Your silk sleep shorts bunched up and revealing most of it, like a pair of skimpy panties.

“So pretty” he murmurs, mostly to himself “mine” he says even lower.

His hand trails over your ass gently, he wants to grab, wants to dig his fingers into your supple ass cheek, but he knows he shouldn’t, he doesn’t want you to wake yet.

He moves closer, his breath catching in his throat as he watches you. His fingers dip lower and gently trail over the seam of your little shorts, right over your heat. His fingers trail back and forth along the silky material, so gentle.

He gets a little too excited and pushes his middle finger over where he thinks your clit is. You stir a little and he freezes, but all you do is give a little sigh and spread your legs a little wider for him.

He can’t help but smirk, even in your sleep, you’re welcoming his touch. It only proves to him that you belong to him. That your body, even unconscious, can recognize his touch. His.

The word “mine” just repeats in his head like a mantra.

He gets impatient, his fingers hook the side of your shorts and your panties, pulling them aside together. And he moves down so he can see your cunt, glistening in the moonlight with your slick. He can’t believe it. Even in your dreams you’re needy. Ready for him.

“Fuck” he curses softly, still trying not to rouse you from your sleep. He pushes his middle finger gently through your folds, spreading your sleepy arousal around your slit and over your clit.

Your hips jerk unconsciously and your legs spread even further for him. A soft sigh leaves your lips.

“That’s it, sweetheart, good girl.” he coos softly, knowing you can’t hear him.

He pushes a single finger into you, you take him easily, clenching around his digit. Your tight, wet heat practically sucking him in.

“Oh fuck” he whines, bucking his hips against the mattress. He’s impossibly hard now, desperate for any friction.

He’s still using one of his hands to hold your shorts and panties to the side and he slowly, so slowly, fucks his middle finger in and out of you. You give a soft whine and shift your hips a little, chasing the friction even in your sleep.

“Needy,” he laughs softly to himself when your hips try to chase his fingers. “Are you dreaming of me, baby?” he whispers into the dark room.

When you’re good and soaked, your slick smeared all over your cunt, soaking his finger and knuckles, he moves up on his knees, so one is on each side of your hips, straddling your ass. he scoops your hips up, tucking his pillow under them gently so they’re angled perfectly for him.

He moves his hands to his pajama pants, pushing down at the waistband of his boxers too, freeing his hard, aching cock. Hissing softly as the cool night air hits his hot skin.

“Easy” he tells himself, adjusting his hips so he’s lined up with your tight, wet hole. Trying to slow himself down so he doesn’t push in with a sharp, possessive thrust like he wants to.

He nudges in slowly, just the head of his cock first. Your tight pussy swallows his tip and he nearly groans, but he stays quiet, gasping instead. “Shit” he whispers, his voice trembling with desperation.

He pushes in further, another few inches and you stir again, wiggling your hips and gasping. He looks to see your eyes still haven’t fluttered open yet.

He takes the opportunity to push in to the hilt. Your hot, velvety walls enveloping him so perfectly that he thinks he might black out. “So good, sweetheart, so tight,” he praises you, unsure how conscious you are.

He starts to move—just slow, wet, gentle thrusts at first. He’s watching in the dim light as he pulls his cock out of you and pushes it back in your tight heat again. Your slick glistening all over his shaft, even in the low light.

“Oh fuck—you’re so wet—even asleep” he marvels, and you push your ass back into him, softly meeting his thrust.

“Mmm—Josh?” You ask softly, your voice thick with sleep.

“Shhhh, baby, go back to sleep—it’s just me, I got you, you’re safe” he says softly, his voice is so gentle even though he feels ravenous, like he could break at any moment and pound you into the mattress, so he can watch your ass bounce against his thrusts.

“You’re…fucking me?” You ask softly, only aware of the warm, wet thrusting between your thighs and the sweet ache low in your tummy.

“Yeah, baby—I’m—I’m fucking you.” He gasps “I couldn’t help it—you looked so sweet, like an angel and I—I needed you” he groans, he knows he’s not in trouble, he knows he’s allowed.

You respond in a soft whine, angling your ass up for him, so he can hit that deeper spot inside you.

“Oh fuck!” He cries when you clench around him, you meet his eyes over your shoulder, hard to make them out in the dark, but his eyebrows are drawn together in pleasure.

“Harder,” you beg pathetically, clutching your pillow.

“What?” He breathes, leaning over you to hear you better over both of your labored breathing and the wet sound of your cunt as he thrusts into you.

“Harder, Josh, please—“ you beg him again and he nearly comes just from the sound of your request.

“I was trying to be gentle,” he groans, but despite his weak protest he snaps his hips into your ass harder, your skin slapping together as he fucks you, balls-deep.

“I don’t want gentle, baby” you cry out between thrusts, “I wanna be fucked”

“And here I was trying to be a gentleman and let you sleep,” he gasps, knowing his actions have been the furthest thing from gentlemanly.

“I’m awake now,” you whine “ ‘n I want it harder.” you pout, your bratty voice coming out.

“As you wish” he says with a sarcastic roll of his eyes at your tone, he adjusts his grip on your hips to push you down further, snapping his hips into you with more force.

“Like that?” He asks breathless. “Is that good, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” You whine sharply, your whines and your gasps filling the room “yes!! Josh!” You cry out.

“If you scream my name any louder the neighbors are going to know who to address their noise complaints to, sweetheart” he almost snickers, so smug that he has you falling apart for him so quickly.

As if you’re ignoring him, you yelp his name again as he drives into you from behind, feeling your cunt start to squeeze him tighter.

“Oh fuck!—“ he almsot doubles over onto you. “Gonna cum already, baby? You were probably dreaming about me fucking you like this, huh?” He groans, one of his hands comes up from your hips to grip a handful of your hair at the root, not too hard but enough to make you yelp out for him.

“God, you sound incredible” his head falls back against his shoulders in pleasure, “gonna cum too, sweetheart—you feel too good. Cum with me, baby—please?” Josh chokes out between moans as he keeps up his pace of slamming into you.

“Yes!! Yes Josh I’m gonna—gonna cum!” You whimper.

“Good—good fucking girl” he’s struggling to even speak, he’s taking rapid breaths as he fucks you into the mattress, his orgasm is hurtling towards him, his hearing goes fuzzy when he hears you cry his name and feels your pussy clench around him over and over as you soak his cock with your orgasm.

“Ohhh my—holy fuck,” he cries out your name as your orgasm pulls his out of him too, giving you a few more jerky, uncoordinated thrusts when he finally pulls his cock out, his hand pumping himself a few more times as he shoots his first rope of hot cum onto your ass, the second shoots further, between your shoulder blades, the rest shoot onto your lower back and your ass again. He’s groaning loudly as you whimper under him.

He gives himself a few more gentle pumps and then he’s rubbing the head of his cock over your soft skin, rubbing his spend around onto your perfect ass.

“Fuuuuuck” he practically growls as he looks you over, your body trembling with your own orgasm. His release all over you, glistening in the moonlight.

His hand rests on your waist tenderly, “you okay?” He asks through a breath.

All you have the energy to do is nod mutely, your eyes fluttering shut in exhaustion and pleasure.

“Let me clean you up, baby” Josh whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss to the back of your head before you feel the mattress dip as he moves off of it, on his way to get a wet rag to clean you up.

<3

The salty breeze sticks to your skin, the afternoon sun beating down in a way that makes the ocean glitter. You’d been hesitant about the beach trip but Chris had begged with those pretty blue eyes behind his glasses, and Josh had simply thrown you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and practically threw you into his truck with your beach bag after you got your bikini on.

Now you’re waist deep in the water, the cold ocean lapping around your ribs. your bikini top is a pale version of your favorite color, more decorative than functional, the straps thin and tied in bows at your neck and back. You’d bought it because Chris had made a noise like a dying animal when you’d tried it on in front of him last week, his gaze snagging on the way the fabric strained against your tits, his face turning the color of a ripe tomato.

“Incoming!” Josh yells from your left, his dark hair plastered to his forehead, skin gleaming bronze and wet. He’s grinning, wicked, already lunging to splash you.

You shriek, turning to dodge, but Chris is right behind you, 5’11” frame of broad, beefy nerd with strong arms and a soft middle that presses warm against your back even through the chill of the water. he catches you around the waist easily, lifting you clean out of the water with a laugh that rumbles through his chest.

“Gotcha!” he crows, but his triumph is short-lived.

a rogue wave comes out of seemingly nowhere, bigger than the rest, rising up like a wall of water and foam. It crashes down with enough force to knock the breathe from your lungs, your feet leave the ground completely, body tumbling in the undertow, and you feel the sharp tug of the current pulling at you, but stronger than that is the sudden, mortifying release of pressure across your chest.

Your bikini top is gone.

You surface the water gasping, sputtering, hands instinctively flying to cover yourself, but the water’s surface level is at your stomach now and you’re exposed from there up, the cool air hitting your wet, bare skin like a slap, your water slick hands are struggling to contain your bare breasts. Panic floods your system.

Then Chris makes a sound, something between a choke and a gasp, like all the air has been punched out of him. His eyes go wide, huge, blue, fixed on you with an expression that is pure, unfiltered shock, before he snaps his gaze up to your face, then down again, then up, like his brain is short circuiting and can’t decide where to look.

"Oh my god—" he says, and his voice cracking. He turns his head sharply to the side, one hand coming up to cover his eyes, but his fingers are spread, and he is absolutely peeking. "O-Oh my god, I'm—sorry, I'm not—"

Josh's reaction is different. He goes quiet. That loud, cocky Josh Washington, who always has a comment, who fills every silence; goes quiet. he’s staring, mouth slightly open, and for a second he looks almost dazed, like he's been hit with something he didn’t expect.

Then the Josh filter kicks back in, and he lets out a low whistle.

"Damn." Just that, but his voice drops an octave, and his eyes are still on your chest, with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

"Stop looking!" You cross your arms over yourself, face burning so hot you think your skin might actually steam. "Both of you, stop—"

"I'm not looking!" Chris says, still covering his eyes… still peeking, his ears are bright red. "I'm not—I mean, I saw—I didn't mean to see—"

"Chris, you're literally looking through your fingers." Josh points out.

"I'M NOT!”

Josh swims closer, and you can see his face now. the smirk, yes, but also something else underneath, something almost appreciative. "You want me to help you find it?"

"I want you to stop staring!" You squeak.

"I'm not staring." Josh shrugs.

He’s definitely staring.

"I'm... assessing the situation. for rescue purposes."

"Josh—" you start.

"Okay, okay." He holds up both hands, backing off a little, but his grin is still there, and his eyes keep flickering down. "I'll look for the top, stay there."

"I'm not going anywhere, Josh, I'm literally—"

But he’s already diving under, disappearing into the blue-green murk.

Leaving you alone with Chris.

Who has given up pretending not to look.

His hand has dropped from his face. He’s just... standing there, water lapping at his hips, staring at you with this expression you can’t fully parse. It’s not just embarrassment or shock anymore.

It’s hunger.

He seems to be deciding on something, looking back towards the shore and then to you, He moves toward you, big body cutting through the water, he wraps around you without a word, the full shadow of his large frame covering you, strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you against him in a desperate, fumbling attempt to hide you from view. His hands are firm against your back, pressing you forward, and the momentum of it makes you stumble, makes you grab onto his arms for balance, and then:

His bare stomach presses flush against your bare breasts.

The contact is electric. His skin is warm despite the cold water, soft with that little squishy middle he’s self-conscious about, but firm underneath with muscle. Your nipples, hard from the shock of the cold ocean and the adrenaline, drag against his abdominal muscles as he pulls you in tighter, trying to hide you. The sensation makes your knees weak, a sudden, inappropriate heat flooding your belly despite the public setting.

“Chris—” you gasp, your voice small and trembling.

"I got you—I'm shielding you—" Chris's voice is strangled, high-pitched, cracking on the words. His arms are still tight around you, and he’s holding you so close that there’s no space between you at all. Your tits are squished against him, your cold nipples poking against his skin, and every tiny movement either of you makes causes the most obscene friction. "I'm just—I'm being a human shield—Josh can't see—no one can see—"

"Chris—" you start.

"I'm protecting you—"

"Chris, my boobs are—"

"I KNOW." His voice cracks again, and you feel his stomach clench under your chest. His eyes are fixed somewhere over your head, deliberately not looking down, and his face is so red. "I know they're—I can feel—I'm not trying to—just until Josh finds your top. I'm not letting anyone see you like—like this—"

"Like what?" Josh's voice cuts through the moment, amused and sharp. You can’t see him past Chris's broad shoulders, but you can hear the smirk in it. "Like topless? Because bro, I already saw. The horse has left the barn on that one."

"Then stop looking!" Chris barks, and his arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer. You make a small gasping sound as your breasts press harder into him, the soft flesh squishing against his warm skin. You can feel his heartbeat, fast and frantic, hammering against your cheek where your face is pressed to his chest.

"I'm not looking, I'm looking for her top" You hear a splash as Josh dives under again.

But Chris’s body is betraying him. You can feel his heart hammering as he holds onto you, you can feel the way his breath hitches as he fights his desperate arousal while you both wait for Josh to find—

“Found it!” Josh’s voice cuts through the haze, dry and amused.

You tilt your head to peek around Chris’s frame, he’s rigid, unmoving, a human barricade, and see Josh wading toward you, something pastel dangling from his fingers. Your top. He’d found it in the churning surf, the strings trailing in the water.

Josh stops beside the two of you, his turquoise eyes flicking down to the way Chris is clutching you, the way your body is plastered against his front. One dark eyebrow arches, a slow, knowing smirk curling his mouth. He’s close now, invading the bubble of panic and intimacy Chris has created.

“Still protecting her virtue, Hartley?” Josh asks, voice low and teasing. He lifts the bikini top, twirling it around one finger. “Or just enjoying the feeling?”

“Shut up,” Chris snarls, uncharacteristically sharp, his arms tightening around you. You feel him unmistakably hard against your tummy, trapped in his swim trunks, and he is trying to shift his hips away but only succeeding in grinding you harder against his stomach. “Just—just help her get it on, okay? D-don’t look”

Josh laughs, a rich, cocky sound. “hard to see the goods when they’re squished against you like that, Cochise”

Josh moves behind you, and suddenly you’re sandwiched between them; Chris’s broad, warm chest pressed against your front, his stomach muscles flexing nervous and fast against your nipples, and Josh’s tan, dripping chest hovering inches from your back as he reaches between you and Chris to slip your top between the two of you.

Josh’s fingers brush your shoulder blades as he starts re-tying your bikini strings, his touch is casual but electric. you’re trapped, immobile, caught between Chris’s protective panic and Josh’s amused efficiency.

“You know,” Josh says conversationally, his voice pitched to carry over the rolling waves as he starts tying the neck of your bikini now, his hot breath ghosting over your cool skin, “it’s interesting, we have ‘Sir Modesty’ over here”—he tugs the strings tight, making you gasp as the fabric cups your boobs again—“squashing your tits against him like he’s trying to merge your bodies through osmosis…”

“Josh—” Chris chokes out, his face buried in your wet hair now. he’s still hard, you can feel it, pulsing and insistent against you, your cunt pulsing in a response he can’t feel. He hasn’t moved his hands from your hips, fingers digging in possessively even as he shakes with embarrassment.

“…and then there’s me,” Josh continues, ignoring him, tying the strings with deft movements. His fingers trail down your spine, just for a second, before he secures the knot. “Finding your lost property, returning it to its rightful owner, doing the actual heroic work while he just… stands there…copping a feel.”

Josh steps back, but not before his hand drops to your waist, giving you a squeeze that’s somehow both friendly and possesive, his fingers brushing the sensitive skin on your ribs above Chris’s grip.

“So,” Josh asks, stepping to the side so he can see both of your faces, Chris red and flustered and refusing to let go of you, and you; dizzy and breathless and soaking wet in more ways than one. He crosses his arms, smirk widening, turquoise eyes gleaming. “Who’s really your knight in shining armor here? The guy practically giving you a mammogram, or the guy who actually saved the day?”

Chris makes a sound of exasperation, his grip finally loosening just enough for you to step back a little. You’re facing him still, your hands braced against his heaving chest, your own heart hammering so hard you’re sure he can hear it. He looks down at you, his blue eyes blown wide with arousal and panic and that desperate, adoring obsession that’s become the gravity between you.

“I—I was trying to help,” he stammers, his voice cracking, “I didn’t mean to—I just wanted to—”

He breaks off, his gaze dropping to your mouth, then lower, to where your bikini top is now securely in place but your nipples are still visibly peaked beneath the wet fabric, aching and sensitive from the friction of his skin.

Josh clears his throat, loud and deliberate, and Chris flinches, remembering you’re not alone.

The surf crashes around your waist, Chris’s hands are sliding to cradle your hips again, proprietary and needy, while Josh is watching with that knowing half-smile, waiting to see which one of them you’ll reward with praise.

<3

Josh had been insufferable for the last three hours.

Ever since you’d offhandedly mentioned that one of them might get “a little treat” for helping you straighten up the apartment, he’d been expecting praise for the smallest tasks like he was doing charity work. He’d lazily wiped down the kitchen counters, haphazardly folded your laundry, and even attempted to fix the bathroom sink—badly—while making sure you were watching every heroic twist of his wrench. He kept looking at you like he was waiting for a gold star and a cookie.

Chris, however, had been quiet. He’d tightened the loose hinges on the front door so it no longer squeaked, scrubbed the kitchen counters properly instead of the half ass job Josh had done and when he’d brought you coffee, he’d actually remembered how you took it. He hadn’t demanded applause. He’d just pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, mumbled something about it being “no big deal,” and gone back to being useful.

Now the three of you were in the living room, the light was low, Josh was sprawled on the rug, looking up at you with that performative pout, thumbs hooked in his belt loops.

“Okay, seriously,” he said. “I rotated the mattress by myself. Chris got winded taking out the trash”

“I— the bag was heavy,” Chris said from the couch, adjusting his glasses. “It had the broken lamp in it—it had a marble base.”

“It had a marble base,” Josh mocked, rolling his eyes. He kicked his heel against the floor. “C’mon, I clearly won—I did way more than Chris. I want my prize”

You looked at Chris. He was blushing already, pink creeping up his neck, eyes darting to you and then away. He looked terrified and hopeful while Josh looked entitled.

“You didn’t win,” you said simply.

Josh’s mouth fell open in shock, “What?”

“Chris did” you stood up and walked over to the couch. Chris’s eyes went wide behind his lenses. “He didn’t make a big show of it, he just… did it.”

“That’s bullshit,” Josh snapped, sitting up. “That’s—that’s nepotism.”

“I think you mean favoritism—y-you’re actually the one that comes from money—“ Chris started to weakly correct him.

“It’s neither,” You knelt in front of Chris. His knees pressed together instinctively, then fell apart.

“Hi,” Chris breathed.

“Hi” You ran your palms up his thighs and he shuddered. His jeans were old, soft denim, and you could feel the heat of him through the fabric already. “You were good today”

“I— I really wasn’t trying to be,” he stammered, even though you both knew he was trying to be, he’s just not as mush of a showman as Josh is about it. His hand came up to his glasses, pushing them up even though they hadn’t slid. “I just wanted to help”

“I know,” you undid the button on his jeans. His breath hitched. “That’s why you get this,”

Behind you, Josh made a strangled and indignant noise, “are you kidding me?”

You pulled Chris’s cock out. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but the second your fingers wrapped around him, he swelled against your palm. He was thick, slightly curved, flushed pink at the tip. You watched his face as you gave him a slow, testing stroke with your hand and his mouth fell open in pleasure, his full lips parting so beautifully. His head dropped back against the couch cushion.

“Oh,” he whispered. “Oh, fuck,”

His glasses were starting to fog from his own breath, coming in short, hot bursts. You leaned in, your breath ghosted over his already wet slit, and he made a sound like he’d been punched in the gut.

“Eyes on me, Chris,” you said.

He forced his head back up, the lenses of his glasses foggy and giving his blue eyes a soft look. He looked fucked out already, and you hadn’t even taken him into your mouth yet.

You flattened your tongue against the underside of his shaft and licked upward, slow, collecting the bitter, salty bead of precum at the tip. He groaned, loud and sharp, his hips bucking up, trying to fuck your mouth before he slammed them back down.

“Sorry— sorry—” he stammered.

“don’t apologize,” you murmured sweetly, and then you took him in your eager mouth.

You sank down until your lips touched your fingers where they were wrapped around his shaft, until he was pulsing on your tongue. Chris let out a broken noise that didn’t even sound like any words, his fingers tangled in your hair to hold on.

You pulled back, letting the saliva string between your lips and his cock, obscene and glistening, before you went down again. the sight alone nearly sent him over the edge.

You set a slow pace that was almost cruel, your tongue swirling around the ridge of his head, leaving him dripping wet before pressing into the sensitive spot underneath, your hand working the base where your mouth couldn’t reach. The slick sound of your saliva lubricating your strokes filled the room.

Chris was unraveling above you, his glasses had slid down his nose and he didn’t bother pushing them up. He stared down at you with something like dumbstruck awe, his chest heaving, the hand that wasn’t in your hair was gripping the arm of the couch so hard his knuckles were white.

“You’re doing so well,” you told him, pulling off with a wet pop. You pumped him, watching more pre-cum leak out, using it as lube. “Such a good boy for me”

He whimpered; high and pathetic and his hips jerked helplessly into your fist.

“Fuck, please— I’m not gonna last, I—” He gasped as you dove back down, hollowing your cheeks, sucking hard. “Oh, god—”

He came with a shout that probably carried through the apartment building. His cock twitched on your tongue and then he was spilling into your mouth, thick ropes of cum, salty and warm, pulsing against the back of your throat. You kept sucking, milking him, letting the mess spill out around your lips and coat his shaft because you knew it would make him twitchy, oversensitive. He shuddered and shook, his grip in your hair going slack, his whole body sagging into the couch, his glasses were completely askew, one earpiece falling off his ear.

You sat back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Chris was panting, eyes half-closed, utterly fucked out.

Then you turned to Josh.

He was still on the floor, but he’d sat up fully. His knees were drawn to his chest, but you could see the obvious, painful tent in his jeans. His face was flushed with frustrated arousal, his jaw was tight, his cock so hard it had to hurt.

“Don’t even,” he said, voice rough.

“‘Don’t even’ what?” you asked, standing up and walking over to him.

“You can’t— you can’t just blow him like that in front of me and then—” he cut off as you dropped to your knees in front of him, his eyes going wide. “Oh”

“You wanted something too?” you asked, teasingly.

“Yes,” he gritted out. “I fucking earned— fuck—”

You’d already started palming him through his jeans, too lightly. He hissed, hips pushing up into your hand, then you undid his fly with one hand and shoved down his boxers with the other. His cock sprang out, angry and aching, slick already with precum that had been leaking into his underwear for far too long. He was hard enough that his skin was silky smooth and stretched tight.

“Look at you,” you said, giving him one lazy, too-loose stroke. “messy already.”

“Just— fuck, just touch me properly,” Josh begged, losing all his bravado, he thrust up into your grip, but you kept your hand light, teasing, fingers barely grazing the throbbing vein on the underside.

You started jerking him off with a rhythm that was bad on purpose; too fast and too loose, no friction at the head where he needed it, your thumb only occasionally brushing the tip just enough to make him whine but never enough to get him off. You edged him; you’d bring him right to the cusp, watching his balls tighten, his thighs shake, his mouth fall open with his quickened breathing and then you’d slow down, squeeze the base hard to stop him, or let go entirely.

“You’re kidding,” he panted after the third time. His cock was leaking a constant, thin stream of precum now, making your hand slick. “you’re actually fucking kidding me. Please”

“Please what?” you asked, giving him a firm stroke that had his eyes rolling back, then immediately going back to feather light touches.

“Let me cum,” he whined. “Please, I’ll— I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, I’ll be quiet, just—”

“You’re never quiet,” you said, jerking him fast for a few seconds, just enough for his hips to lose their rhythm, for his breath to catch, for his cock to throb in your hand, and then you stopped completely.

Josh let out a strangled cry that was pure anguish, his cock twitched against his stomach, needy, weeping precum, so hard it must have ached deep in his stomach. He grabbed your wrist, but you pulled away easily.

“That’s not fair,” he said, voice cracking with a whine. He looked at Chris, who was still dazed on the couch, cock finally tucked into his boxers, looking thoroughly debauched. “That’s not fucking fair. He got your mouth—He got to cum. All I get is this lousy hand job??”

“Lousy?” you gasp in feigned disbelief “well then I’ll spare you having to suffer through any more of it,” you removed your hand, wiping it on his thigh and standing up. Josh stared up at you, chest heaving, cock standing straight up against his toned stomach, aching and pulsing.

“Wait—no I didn’t mean—you can’t just leave me like this,” he said, but it was half a whimper.

You looked down at him. “I can”

Chris made a small, satiated noise from the couch, pushing his fogged glasses up his nose with a trembling hand. Josh’s hands fisted at his sides, his whole body coiled tight with denied release, his cock slick and heavy against his stomach.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry, baby, please” Josh begged “it’s so good—I just wanna cum and I’ll be good I swear—“

You gave him a look and then your eyes swept over to Chris. All big and broad and sprawled on the couch because he was melty from the pleasure.

“What do you think, angel?” You asked Chris, “does Josh deserve to cum?”

Chris stiffened with the responsibility of making a decision. His eyes snapped to Josh, who was giving him a silent, pleading look for his help.

“I mean,” Chris cleared his throat “he did do a pretty good job with his chores.” It wasn’t true of course but Chris nodded along with his words anyways, his eyes shifting nervously between yours and Josh’s look of desperation, “and—I think he’s sorry for saying ‘lousy’, he’—he’s just frustrated—“ Chris nodded again, looking to Josh to make sure he was saying the right thing. Chris is always like this, trying to be good for both of you at the same time, always getting put in the middle.

“I am sorry,” Josh agreed quickly “I’m just so close—and I didn’t mean it—“ Josh shook his head quickly.

“Is that a yes then, Chris?” You ask him curiously.

Chris’s eyes go from Josh’s to yours again, making sure he’s saying the right thing. “yes, he deserves it,” Chris nods weakly.

You smile softly and look back at Josh, slowly kneeling down to his level again, “you’re lucky he came to your rescue” you tell him with a smirk.

Josh just swallows in nervous anticipation and just nods in agreement.

You crawl over to him on your hands and knees, gripping the base of his aching erection in your hand. You lower your mouth to hover just over the swollen head and for one beautiful and agonizing second, Josh thinks he’s going to feel your hot mouth envelope him, but instead—you let your lips come together and you spit onto his cock, your saliva running down in a thick drip down his length.

He groans in pleasure and frustration simultaneously.

“Just this for now,” you coo “you’ll get my mouth when you’re on your best behavior.”

Josh knows better now than to argue, especially when your firm stroke slides over his cock, slick with your saliva and his precum and the pressure is so exquisite now that he knows it won’t be long until he cums.

“Yes, ma’am” he breathes.

“Good boy” you murmur in approval as you stroke him faster. His head falls back, little ah—ah—ah’s leaving his mouth on every downstroke.

You’re pumping his cock in a steady rhythm, your thumb coming up to slide over the underside of the head where he’s sensitive and he hisses like he’s in pain, but you know he’s not. His fingers are digging into the carpet, his knuckles turning white.

“Yes! Fuck, please—please I need to cum, I’ll be a good boy—fuck please” he whines, his head thrown back and you hear Chris gasp behind you, the sound of Josh’s begging clearly affecting him too.

You shift uncomfortably in your soaked panties as you keep up your rhythm. one of them will have to help you with your problem soon. Or both of them.

“You can cum now, sweetheart” you tell him gently. as if he was waiting for permission; he wasn’t, he was begging for you to give him the stimuli to finally go over the edge that he’d gladly go over with or without your permission—the brat.

“Thank you—thank you—“ he gasped “fuck I’m cumming—oh fuck” he groaned and your movements slowed as your felt him swell, his hips bucking forward as his cock jerked violently and spurted the first rope of his release over your fingers. He made strangled sounds of pleasure as the following pulses of his release shot across the denim of his jeans, his boxers, your wrist.

“So much,” you said in awe “all this for me?” You asked as you marveled at the mess he’d made.

“For you” he breathed softly “all for you”, he collapsed back onto the rug, his body falling limp after being pent-up for so long. He felt himself melt into the plush rug with a satisfying buzz of pleasure, his cock softening, his mess all over him.

<3

“God my shoulders are killing me.” you sigh rubbing under the strap of your bra on your shoulder.

“Hmm?” Josh looks up from his phone, his turquoise eyes meeting yours.

“It’s this dumb bra” you shrug, trying to act nonchalant but feeling a little embarrassed for bringing it up.

A lazy grin spreads on Josh’s face. “You can take it off, I’ll hold your boobs for you.” he offers cheekily.

You roll your eyes so hard they might get stuck in your head. There he goes again… he’s literally always like this; saying totally out-of-pocket, flirty shit with no intention to back it up.

You decide you’ve had it—you’re gonna call his bluff.

“Yeah?” You ask with a smirk. “Come take it off me then” you challenge.

Josh’s eyes widen, if he was a cartoon character they would have jumped out of his head.

“O-oh yeah?” He asks, trying to feign confidence.

“Yeah, come here” you say again, gesturing him to your side of the couch.

“Yeah—you bet. I-I’m on my way” he is trying not to let how much he’s freaking out show as he makes his way over to you.

He sits next to you, and you turn so your back is to him. His hands hover, uncertainly at your back.

“The clasp is—uhm—the clasp is in here in the back right?” He asks, his voice is uncharacteristically timid.

“Yes, Joshua” you try not to scoff.

So much for mr. mcflirty pants… he can’t even locate a clasp?

“Well!! I dunno sometimes they’re in the front…” he tries to defend himself “I’ve seen some like that…”

“You have?” You ask incredulously.

“Well…you know not on a person—not on a girl—y’know like… at the store…” he rambles nervously.

You try your hardest not to giggle.

“You spend a lot of time shopping for bras?” You ask with a teasing laugh.

“Hey—c’mon—shut up.” he tells you, pulling up the back of your top to reveal your bra clasp. He pops it open easily—not like he didn’t once practice on a bra at the store, to the mortification of his sister, who’d only dragged him into that aisle to quickly grab pantyhose for a formal event their parents were taking them to.

He’s filled with a new found confidence as your bra straps get pulled through the sleeves of your shirt.

“I can hold them now?” He asks, his hands itching to touch you.

You hadn’t expected him to get this far, but you can’t deny him. Too eager, too sweet, too adorably excited.

“Yeah, let’s see how supportive your hands are” you tease him.

“Very supportive” he assures nodding, his hands wrapping around your back to hold your tits over your top, the thin polyester blend doing nothing to keep you from feeling his warm hands on your body, cupping your tits and covering them perfectly—like they were made to be in his hands.

He can’t help but squeeze, his fingers rubbing over your soft flesh over your t-shirt, making your nipples harden and making Josh groan softly in your ear.

“Aren’t bras supposed to be under your shirt?” He asks, his voice low and teasing.

“Mmm,” you hum in pleasure “y-yeah.” you breathe out.

“Can I?” He whispers, his hands already sliding down to the hem of your top, slowly, reverently.

“Yeah—yes please.” you hum in a daze.

“Fuck” his voice trembles as his hands slide up your torso, coming to cup your bare breasts under your shirt.

He groans when he feels your bare tits in his hands, groping immediately—he can’t help himself.

“Perfect—they’re perfect” he rasps in your ear.

His fingers come to squeeze and tweak your nipples, earning a soft squeak from you.

“Oh I like that noise, can you make it again?” His voice is finding his confidence now, as he tweaks your nipples again, getting the same delicious sound from your mouth.

“Fuck” he curses “so good” he groans, overwhelmed with what he’s feeling and hearing.

“I could do this forever, I’m staying right here” he breathes into your neck, his mouth attaching to the sensitive skin under your ear.

General taglist: @avwade69 @maiiuelle @avrells @xoxocher @sweetcalebb @z0mb1epuzzy @dnpo1son

The oversized loveseat cushions sank beneath the weight of three bodies, leather sticking against the backs of your heated thighs where your skirt had ridden up. Josh sat to your right, long legs sprawled open, his posture deceptively casual with one arm draped over the cushions behind your head. to your left, Chris was a mess of nervous energy, his knee bouncing, his fingers drumming against his jeans as the three of you passed the joint in a slow circle.

The loveseat was larger than standard, but you were still sandwiched snugly between the two boys. The air in the Washington’s theater room had gone thick and hazy with smoke and something else, something charged that had nothing to do with the sweet smoke filling your lungs.

Josh took a drag, his throat working, cheeks hollowing. He held the smoke, his dark turquoise eyes locking onto yours with that predatory focus he got when he was plotting something. He leaned in, close enough that you could smell the expensive cologne on his flannel beneath the weed. He tapped two fingers against his own lips in silent offering.

“Want it?” His voice was tight with him holding his the smoke in his lungs but still smooth enough to make you dizzy.

You nodded, tilting your chin up. Josh leaned in, bridging the gap, and he pressed his mouth to yours. not quite a kiss, not yet, just the transfer of breath and smoke. He exhaled slow, controlled, forcing the thick cloud into your lungs. It burned a little and his lips lingered, brushing yours as you inhaled, stealing the breath from him. His tongue flicked out, just the tip, tasting your bottom lip before he pulled back with a satisfied smirk.

“Good girl,” he murmured, thumb stroking your jaw.

Your heart beat hard in your chest at the title. but the sound of Chris rubbing his palms on his jeans behind you made your skin prickle with anticipation for your next idea.

when you turned to pass the joint, you caught Chris’s expression. the way his usually bright blue eyes had gone dark and hungry, the faint flush high on his cheeks, the way he was staring at your mouth like he either jealous or starving—or both. He looked wrecked already, and you hadn’t yet touched him.

You held the smoke in your lungs, chest burning, and turned your body fully toward him. Chris’s gaze snapped up to your eyes from your mouth, wide and questioning.

“Your turn,” you said, your voice tight but soft.

You didn’t give him time to overthink it, you leaned in, mirroring Josh’s movements, and pressed your lips to Chris’s. He made a sound; surprised and desperate, and then you were exhaling into his mouth, sharing the smoke, the heat, the intimacy of the moment. But Chris didn’t just take the smoke from your lungs.

He broke.

His hands came up, clumsy fingers threading into your hair, and he kissed you for real. messy, uncoordinated, all tongue and teeth and desperation. He whined against your lips, high and needy, and you felt the moment he stopped thinking entirely, he stopped worrying about Josh watching, he stopped worrying about doing it wrong. He just took. His hot mouth over yours, licking into your mouth, breath coming in harsh pants that had nothing to do with his high.

“Fuck,” Josh laughed, low and dark beside you. “look at him. He’s a mess already” he snickered, completely amused.

You would have responded, but then you felt it; Josh’s hand sliding down to your shoulder, then your waist, then creeping beneath the hem of your skirt. His fingers were warm, deft, and they traced a deliberate path up your inner thigh.

Chris didn’t stop kissing you. If anything, he grew more frantic as Josh’s touch climbed higher, his mouth leading to your jaw, your throat, his teeth grazing your pulse point hard enough to leave a mark. He was sloppy, leaving wet trails of saliva on your skin, sucking pink and purple marks into your neck with single-minded devotion.

Josh’s fingertips reached the edge of your panties. The flimsy lace was already damp and he hummed in approval against your ear. “already soaked for us? That’s dirty, babygirl. Did you get this wet just sitting between us? just thinking about what we could do to you?”

His words elicited a whimper from your throat so broken it could have been a sound byte from a bad-acted porn. Except it was honest, desperate.

Josh’s long fingers slipped beneath your panties, finding your slick slit, and you moaned loud and uncontrolled again, your head falling back against the couch cushions.

The sound seemed to trigger something in Chris. He groaned, the vibration traveling down your neck as he latched onto the hollow of your throat, sucking hard, his hands fisting in your hair to hold you still for his mouth.

Josh’s finger slid through your folds, gathering the wetness there, spreading it in slow, maddening circles around your clit but not quite touching it.

“You’re dripping,” Josh observed clinically, like he was commenting on the weather, even as he pressed the pad of his finger against your swollen clit, making your hips jerk. “Chris, feel how wet she is. She’s fucking dripping for it—for us”

Chris made a strangled noise against your neck and reached out with one trembling hand, sliding it up your thigh until his fingers clumsily collided with Josh’s, both of them touching you now, Chris’s fingers were thicker, inept compared to his best friend’s—but they felt just as dizzying.

Chris, eager as ever, slipped a finger into your wet cunt, the sound squelching in the otherwise quiet room between your ragged breaths.

“Oh—fuck” Chris spoke for the first time as he felt your body sucking him in and you let out a high pitched moan. Josh took the opportunity to slot his lips over your open mouth, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, biting down and making you squeak.

They both kept working you with their fingers, sliding around your wet heat, exploring the mess they’d made of you, your hips bucking involuntarily into the pressure.

<3

taglist: @fritzhardt @avwade69 @maiiuelle @avrells @fordthegamelord819 @sweetcalebb @dnpo1son @k4sey1st @always-andromeda @eclipse134 @childrenoftheuniecorn @g0ryverd1ct

You were curled up in the corner of the couch, your legs tucked to the side of you. You’d been picking at the pizza crusts while half-listening to Josh explain a behind-the-scenes fact about the movie, like he often does.

Chris was on the floor in front of the couch, back against the seat near you. Close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off you, close enough that when you shifted, your socked foot brushed against his shoulder. He was trying very hard not to be obvious about the fact that he'd been half-hard for the last twenty minutes just from your proximity and the occasional brush of your foot.

Josh was sprawled in the recliner, one leg thrown over the arm, confident and loose in that way that made Chris want to throw a remote at his head. Because Josh didn't have to try. He just... existed, all calm confidence and intrigue.

"—so Tobe Hooper basically put the cast through hell," Josh was saying, gesturing broadly. "There were REAL animal carcasses on set, just fucking cooking in the insane heat and they had to act through it. Can you imagine the stench?"

"Ew! No!" you said, but you were smiling, looking at Josh with those big awestruck eyes, and Chris felt his jaw tighten.

"Horror directors are all insane—well at least the good ones." Josh shrugged. Then he grinned slow and deliberate. "But that's what makes them brilliant, right? The obsession. The single minded focus." He held your gaze a beat too long. "I respect that in a guy”

Was he… was Josh flirting? Right now? In front of Chris?

Chris cleared his throat. "Didn’t Hopper have a hard time getting financing for like a decade after that movie? I mean…." His voice came out more clipped than intended. "….obsession isn't always, uh, strategic or whatever—"

You glanced down at him, and something in your expression softened.

"That's kind of sad, though. Making something that iconic and then having a hard time making something else… not being able to ride the success wave” you mused.

"I mean—" Chris pushed his glasses up, flustered by the attention. "Yeah. It is sad but, he kept trying, though. Th-that's the thing about going after something you want, it's— you don't stop. Even when you probably should"

"Okay, Hemingway, we get it. You're deep" josh snorted.

"Fuck off, I'm making a point" Chris scoffed.

"Your point is boring. My point is interesting." Josh turned back to you, leaning forward in the recliner. "My point is that obsession can be hot. When it's, like, directed at the right thing.”

At the right person, his tone implied.

Your cheeks flushed. You tucked a strand hair behind your ear and looked away, and Chris watched the way your lashes fanned against your cheek, the way your teeth caught your bottom lip,

He needed to say something. Do something. Before Josh completely took over the conversation.

"So," Chris said, shifting to face you more fully. His hand found your ankle without him fully meaning to, just resting there, casual, like it was nothing. Like he touched you all the time. "You still wanna do that horror marathon tomorrow? I know you mentioned Pearl—"

"Oh my god, yes!" Your face lit up, and Chris felt a surge of satisfaction. That was the look he wanted. "I've been wanting to watch Pearl forever!"

"I—I can pull it up on the projector. We can make a whole thing—blankets, snacks, we can order from the Chinese place you like—," He was rambling, he knew he was rambling, but you was looking at him now instead of Josh. "I'll even let you pick the candy."

"You hate the candy I pick”

"That’s because Dots should be illegal." He smiled, crooked and earnest. "But you know I’ll get anything you want”

It came out softer than he meant it to. Something flickered in your expression: surprise and fondness, and Josh's eyes narrowed slightly from across the room.

"Cute," Josh said flatly. He stood up, stretching, his shirt riding up over his stomach. Chris watched your gaze flicker to Josh's body for half a second before you looked away.

"You know what else is a good movie? Midsommar. We could watch that. In my room. Where it's actually comfortable.” Josh suggested

"Your room smells like dirty laundry," Chris said flatly.

"My room smells like cologne." Josh protested.

"That's worse." Chris muttered.

"It's not—" Josh caught himself, then smirked. "You're just jealous because you don't own any."

"I own cologne." Chris argued.

"That cheap ass body spray from Target doesn't count, bro."

"It's cologne—"

"Guys." Your voice was soft, but it cut through the bickering immediately.

Both of them turned to look at you. You were still curled up, but something in your posture had shifted, more closed off. Your fingers were playing with the hem of your sweater, a nervous habit Chris had taken note of months ago.

"Sorry," Chris said quickly. "Sorry, we're being—"

"No it’s just," you interrupted, not looking at either of them. "I think I'm gonna head home"

The words landed like a gun shot in the room.

"What?" Chris's hand tightened on your ankle. "I thought—I thought you said you were staying the whole weekend!”

"I know, but..." you shrugged, still not meeting his eyes. "I'm just not feeling great, I think I need my own bed” you feigned a pout.

"You can have my bed," Chris said immediately. "I'll take the couch—or-or the floor—“

"Or you can have my bed," Josh cut in, moving to sit on the arm of the couch, closer to you. "I don't care, I'll sleep anywhere— Point is, you don't have to go"

You shook your head. "It's not just the bed. I just... I think I need to be home.”

"D-did we do something?" Chris asked. His voice cracked slightly on the last word. His hand was still on your ankle, and he could feel the warmth of your skin through the thin fabric of your socks. "Because if we did something—"

"You didn't do anything." You finally looked up, and your expression was unreadable. "I just want to go home"

"Please," Chris said, and his voice cracked in that way he hated, with his raw nerves and desperation. "Just tell us what we did. I'll fix it—I'll—Josh will apologize for whatever he did, I'll make him—"

"Hey," Josh snapped, but there was no heat in it. He'd gone still on the arm of the couch, the cocky energy drained out of him, replaced by focus. He stood up slowly, unfolding his lean frame, and moved to stand beside Chris, who had stood up as well. "Nobody's going anywhere, It's almost midnight."

"I can call an Uber," you said softly, adjusting your sweater sleeves over your hands. You weren’t looking at them now. you got up calmly, to grab your bag near on end table by the couch, but Chris thought he caught a slight twitch of your lips.

"You can't," Chris said, panicking. "It's not safe. you're not leaving, because we haven't—you haven't—" He was babbling, hands fluttering uselessly at his sides, stepping closer to you, wanting to touch you, to hold your wrists in his big hands, to physically anchor you to the apartment. "Did I talk too much about the app I’m making? I know I do that, I can shut up—"

"Chris." Josh's hand shot out, gripping Chris's shoulder hard, his fingers dug in, and his eyes were fixed on your face with an intensity that made Chris pause.

Josh was quiet for a beat, his turquoise eyes narrowing as he studied you. the flush high on your cheeks, the way you were biting the inside of your lip to keep from smiling…

"Oh," Josh said softly. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Oh, you little shit."

Chris blinked. "What? Josh, stop smiling, she wants to leave—"

"She's not leaving," Josh said, and his voice dropped an octave, sliding from panicked to something darker, playful, possessive. He let go of Chris's shoulder and stepped around him, moving into your space. You had to tilt your head back to look up at him, and Josh leaned down, crowding you, close enough that his chest nearly brushed yours. "Are you, sweetheart?"

"I... I should go," you said, but your voice wavered at the pet name, breathless.

"You should?" Josh reached out, slow and deliberate, and plucked your bag from your shoulder. He tossed it onto the couch without looking. It landed with a soft thump. "Because it looks to me like you're testing us. trying to see if we'd panic, trying to see if we'd beg."

"Josh—" Chris started again, confused, still vibrating with anxiety.

"Look at her, Chris," Josh said, not taking his eyes off you. "Look at her face"

Chris looked at you again. His nervous blue eyes studying your face.

Your cheeks were flushed, your eyes wide and bright, your chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths, biting back giggles.

The realization hit Chris like a physical blow, knees weakening with relief so strong it made him dizzy. "You... you were pretending? It—It wasn’t real?"

"I wanted to see," you admitted, small and soft, your voice barely audible. You twisted your fingers in the hem of your sweater. "If you'd... if you'd let me go."

"Let you?" Chris choked out a laugh that sounded borderline hysterical. "I—I was two seconds from handcuffing you to the radiator. Metaphorically. Or—not metaphorically, I have zip ties in the closet for cable management, I was actually considering—"

"See?" Josh cut in, stepping even closer to you. You backed up instinctively, hitting the arm of the couch, trapping yourself between the furniture and Josh's looming frame. He was caging you in.

"He's was panicking. And you thought it was a game, but you don't get to run, princess. Not when you just admitted you want to see us chase"

"I didn't say that," you whispered, but you were looking up at him with those big eyes, pupils blown wide.

"You didn't have to." Josh leaned down, his mouth near your ear, and Chris watched, transfixed, as Josh's other hand came up to trace a single finger down your arm, making you shiver. "You wanted to see who'd beg harder? Who'd offer more? Who'd zip tie you first?"

Chris stepped forward, the panic transmuting into something hot and indignant and competitive. "I was just kidding about the zip ties," he said, sliding in beside Josh, boxing you in from the other side.

“No he wasn’t” Josh shook his head.

“No I wasn’t” Chris agreed, He couldn't help himself—he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, squeezing tight.

Your breath hitched as you looked between them—Josh's sharp, knowing smile, Chris's earnest, overwhelmed expression, both of them pressed close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from their bodies.

"I just wanted to see," you said again, softer, and this time it sounded like an apology but also a taunt. “How bad you wanted me to stay”

"And now you've seen," Josh murmured, his thumb brushing your bottom lip, tilting your face toward him. "So you're staying. Right here. With us."

"Okay," you whispered. "I'll stay."

"Good," Josh said, and his voice was rougher now, losing some of the playful edge to something more serious. "Because you belong here. with us."

"With us," Chris repeated, and the words sounded like a prayer and a claim all at once. He squeezed your hand tighter. "Yeah. Ours."

You melted between them, your earlier teasing dissolving into dust, your faux resistance crumbled under the weight of their attention.

"Okay," you said again, barely audible. "I'll be good."

Josh laughed, low and dark, while Chris made a sound like all the air left his lungs.

"We'll see about that," Josh said.

<3