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And as it turns out, he's negative for everything, too. Then, all bets are off. However, in the time it takes for his results to be processed, Chris is pulled back to Boston. And he's fairly sure that he's going to have to force himself to focus and not act like a fucking madman because all he wants to do is have Seb here and take him bare and animal, but he can't. He has to be patient. Civilized. He has to accept, for now, that all he can have is one incredibly, mortifying fast, exceptionally dirty phone call, fisting himself to Sebastian's voice as Sebastian does the same. Both of them stare down at the mess they've made separately yet together as well, wishing they hadn't cum over their fists but in--on--the other.

Sebastian does it, in the end.

Sebastian surprises Chris, taking a risk, letting himself into his Boston home with keys not borrowed from under a flower pot or door mat but his own thrillingly gifted keys from Chris himself, come over whenever, sweetheart, and orchestrating a delicious plan within the walls of his boyfriend's house.

So, when Chris wanders home after a loooong day of meetings, getting his next project off the ground finally, the last thing he's expecting--maybe what he's subconsciously dreaming of, though--is to see his goddamn hot-as-hell boyfriend bent over the back of his couch, twitching, and squirming in his impatient, sensous waiting. His bare ass is pointed directly at the door, just a short entryway hallway away. And that'd be enough to make Chris' key fumble and drop to the floor, but it's more than that.

Chris can't breathe.

His mind goes blank. A white, hot void where all he can hear is his heart galloping into a speed that would worry him if he were in his right mind, not blindsided by lust. He's dizzy. All the blood in his body surging southbound, pooling between his legs. Immediately, he is so fucking hard.

He wasn't expecting this. A meal where even crumbs would've been a monumentous pleasure.

Sebastian is bent over his fucking couch, ass up, face down, with his wrists somehow restrained by one of Chris' leather belts. Chris is wearing his favorite red belt, and absentmindedly, he recalls this fact, but it doesn't matter. It couldn't matter any fucking less when, oh, yeah, as Chris is drawn forward, he realizes that Sebastian's ass is full, too. He's plugged with one of his larger, slick silicone toys. He must've brought it from his place. He planned this.

He planned this.

The sound that comes out of Chris would be embarrassing, something of a primal growl, if he could think straight. He can't, though. So who fucking cares.

Sebastian doesn't, evident in how he can't play limp, easy doll waiting to be fucked anymore and the muscles in his back tremble and tense, pulling him into an arch while his lips spill, "Chriiis!"

"Jesusfuckingchristbaby, look'a'chu," the Boston comes out of him, rushed and all together.

The sound of his voice, gruff and thick with arousal, has Seb's legs spreading an inch wider, his hamstrings pulling taut. It's all Chris wants to put his mouth on his trembling flesh. He wants to lick and bite all the way up the insides of his legs from the ticklish back of his knees until he gets to his pretty hole. He wants to rip open a--

Wait.

Chris is suddenly crushed by the realization that he doesn't have to fucking have a dental dam or a condom or anything. He can just push inside and fuck him and have him and--

"Get over here already, oh my god," Seb complains, a needy whine lighting up his voice in a way that Chris' hard dick really fucking likes. It twitches in his jeans.

"Baby," he rasps, finally close enough to hover his hands over Sebastian's gorgeous skin. He's close enough to spot the smattering of offerings Seb's laid out for him. He's not just plugged and tied and presented; he's plugged full, stretched out and waiting, he's tied by the wrists, he's presented ass-first, and he's got a blindfold, one of his own scarfs alongside a tube of lube plus a ring-gag laid on the cushion next to him. "Baby," Chris can't fucking say anything else. He can't think anything else. He's salivating.

His hands land on the smooth, pretty skin of Sebastian's perky ass, touching, rubbing, and groping him--grabbing tight handfuls of flesh and absorbing the tantalizing, shaky moan he gives, being grabbed in such an obscene way.

Through his moan, he sighs, "I forgot to grab my real cuffs," he squirms cutely, his tied hands straining against Chris' own belt, "so I hope you don't mind my kidnapping your belt."

"Fucking Christ, I don't mind," Chris feels frantic, how are they just talking, laughing--rusty and strained but laughing--when all he wants to do is fuck inside him immediately, "do whatever you want. I don't give a shit, baby."

"Tha-that's my line," Seb complains cheekily, squirming, no, shaking his ass, wriggling side to side as if he needs to entice Chris anymore.

Chris spanks him for the attitude. It just winds them both up, though. The pain excites Sebastian, forcing him to clench down on his little toy, stimulating himself, and the sting in Chris' palm like a match striking its box, but the whole thing is soaked in gasoline with how Chris ignites.

"Whatever I want?" He rasps, licking his lips, drawing his big hands away from Sebastian's ass to span the expanse of his back. He wants to touch him everywhere. He wants to devour him.

"Whatever," Seb confirms, voice trembling in the same way his whole body is starting to vibrate, "I, I brought--"

"I see what you brought," Chris murmurs, teasing, "did you wanna get fucked so bad that you brought your whole toy chest? Did you pack it instead of a suitcase to come and see me? Were your hands shaking as you packed 'cause 'a how bad you want me to cum inside you?"

Sebastian moans, going that much more limp over the couch.

"Well," Chris pinches his side, chuckling as Seb shies away, "jus' 'cause you went outta your way to bring all this..." he doesn't end his sentence, he just goes with his mischievous misdirect, reaching for his red belt and zipper rather than the delicious toys Seb laid out like a buffet. With a sign, Chris lets his jeans go loose around his waist and dives beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers to fist his aching cock, pulling it out with a gutted sound, and letting it lay heavily between the curves of Seb's exposed backside.

Christ.

"Chriiis!" He whines, shifting, jolting, pressing back, and trying to get it as if he isn't fully stuffed with his nice little buttplug. Poor thing. Wants what he can't have.

The rushing, pulsing arousal inside Chris wins out for a moment, though. Despite his teasing, he can't help but rut against him for a moment, groaning. Just skin on skin. Fuck. He can't wait to get into him.

First, though--

With his cock torturously sliding against his ass and toward the small of his back, Chris leans forward, pressing their bodies together--naked and clothed--to reach for his first weapon of choice. The scarf. He ties it lovingly around Sebastian's thick head of hair, making sure he can't see a thing, can't expect what's coming. Then, he snatches up the ring-gag, humming, "why'd you pick this one, baby? I know you like your mouth full," he teases, "this is gonna leave you so empty--"

Sebastian sobs as he pops it in, the metal ring forcing his mouth open, resting behind his teeth, all wet and drooling.

"--aw, honey, did you wanna be empty? Did you wanna be empty so I could fill you wherever I want? Did you want me to fuck your mouth and come down your throat?"

With the ring-gag in place, buckled around the back of his head, he can't modulate his own volume. His next moan is loud.

Chris plays with him like he'd play with a crowd, seeing if his outburst of sound is louder, asking him if he wants his cum down his throat or all over his face.

God.

It's hard to tell.

Oh, dear.

Whatever will he do..?

Wickedly, Chris supposes he'll just have to give him both, make a mess of him, and mark him up. They might be here for a while, but Chris thinks he can make that happen. Sebastian makes him crazy. He wants him so bad, so much of the time that it's insane. He'll probably be able to fuck his ass, cum inside him until it's dripping out, then fuck his mouth to pound down his throat messily, and maybe then he'll jerk off over his pretty blinded, opening face to paint his obscene lips, too.

First things first, though, Chris peels himself off of Seb, leaning back but not before snagging the fresh tube of lube from the cushion and slathering his hard cock with it. The feeling is fucking fantastic. Sebastian's gonna be better, though--he always is. He doesn't give a shit that his strokes are sloppy and excited, leaving him with thick, wet smears of lube on his boxerbriefs and jeans. Fuck it. He really doesn't fucking care. He wants inside him.

He needs inside him.

As his fingers curl and grab at that helpful handle, shit, he didn't even think about that--

"'M gonna fuck you raw, honey, then I'm gonna stuff all my cum back in this pretty ass and keep it there with this plug. How's that sound?"

"MMNGH!" Sebastian, open-mouthed, exclaims.

"Yeah? That sounds like a good plan?" Chris taunts, stepping to the side to place the plug on the end table next to the arm of the couch. He gives a brief thought to popping the plug into Sebastian's mouth for safekeeping instead. But he's pretty confident that hanging at the angle he is with the sheer lust building up inside Chris, Chris is gonna fuck him hard enough that there's no way it wouldn't fall out of his desperately open mouth and roll onto the floor. Nah. He wants to shove that thing back where it came from this time.

Oh, well, maybe next time, he thinks viciously, smirking to himself as he steps back between the enticing spread of Seb's legs and guides the crown of his slick, throbbing cock into the pink, twitching clutch of his boyfriend's gorgeous hole.

The noise Sebastian lets out is pure sex--relief and pleasure and hunger for more all rolled into one animal, bone-deep sound.

Fuck yes.

Chris follows him, a low, aching sound barreling out of his chest as he plows forward, feeling his slick, rippling walls take him. It doesn't physically feel that different if he's honest, focusing down to what it is, but it does feel much different in his chest. Constricting around his heart. It's different. Plunging forward, getting in there, almost balls deep already (thank you for stretching him nice and wide, buttplug), it's just a little hotter, a little brighter, a little, pun not intended, rawer. In his chest, though, fuck, it is way different.

He's inside Sebastian.

Sebastian's letting him have this.

Nothing between them.

This is the physically closest they can ever be.

Chris is inside his lover.

His chest is burning bright--hot and big.

It feels big.

It's really fucking big.

This is important and romantic, and it pleases the animal inside him that demands to be the only one, the one who does this best, the one who owns him, mine, the one who's owned by him, his.

Chris is gonna make this fucking memorable.

He pulls back almost all the way, knowing how Seb likes it when he's in the mood for whips and chains bells and whistles, and plunges back in with his weight behind it.

Fucking him.

Sebastian chokes on the thrust, so deep, squeezing around him in bliss, trying to make sense of how good it feels. He tells Chris consistently with their long-distance gaps that he forgets how big he is, and Chris smirks dangerously, knowing Sebastian would be sputtering and whining desperately about how big he is, how thick it feels, how he needs more practice taking it, god, he's gotta remember how it feels inside him, all the way in his throat, he can't breathe. He'd be saying it all if he could make words right now.

Oh, god.

Chris puts his fucking back into it. Fucking him hard. Punishing. Rough. Slamming Sebastian's hips against the back of the couch as it creaks, complaining lowly beneath Seb's breathier and breathier cries of pleasure. Ah, ah, ah! The moans he's making are wet. Chris doesn't have to look down to know he's drooling. He's plunging in balls deep and pulling almost all the way out, stretching Seb's hole around the line between where his shaft ends and the fat head of his cock begins, of fucking course, he's drooling for it.

The couch is gonna be ruined after this. Stained with drool and sweat and cum. Chris is so fucking out of his mind with the knowledge that he can have everything from Sebastian that when he cums, before he fucks his throat and paints his face, he might just lick his spend off the cushions. Just because he can.

He wants to devour him.

He wants to be devoured by him. He's spilling nonsense as he gets closer and closer, knowing Sebastian is right there with him as his volume grows, louder, more shrill, and so fucking desperate it brings Chris to his knees. Chris is crazy, reckless and starved, he's working his fingers inside Seb's hungry ass alongside his bare cock, feeling him on his throbbing dick and on the pads of his fingers. Fingering him. Fucking him. Talking at him, letting go of every inhibition to leave them just a goddamn melted glacier's worth of desire.