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Martin isn’t entirely sure how he ended up here. Well, he knows on paper. Things are rough with Anika at home. They’re not talking a lot, passing through rooms in tense silence as what remains of their marriage disintegrates further. It’s choking. So he’d needed to be somewhere else.
He had been in such a foul mood, unwilling to call any of his friends. Tonight was a night for solitude, or so he’d thought.
He’d gone to a bar and quickly downed two of something, he doesn’t quite remember what. It wasn’t twenty minutes before someone slid onto the stool next to him, flagging down the bartender and asking for a white wine. American, by the sound of the accent.
“Wine?” Martin had asked before thinking.
“Wine,” said the stranger, glancing back at him with a slightly crooked smile. “Care to join me?”
Before Martin had a chance to reply, the man got the bartender’s attention again.
“Another of whatever he’s having,” he said, pointing at Martin’s near-empty second glass.
“I should probably get back home soon,” Martin said.
“You don’t sound too certain about that. So why not stick around a while? Name’s Buddy, what about you?”
“Martin.”
“Well, Martin. You’re in my usual spot, so I think that means we’re best friends now.”
There was a happy lilt in his voice, and even under the slightly shady lighting of the bar, Martin could see twinkling blue. Something in his chest flipped.
“I-I guess so.”
When Buddy smiles, Martin couldn’t help but mirror it back.
That was three hours ago. Now they’re in Buddy’s little apartment not too far from where they’d met. It’s all a blur. Buddy was funny and philosophical, weaving effortlessly from topic to topic and entertaining every question Martin could think of. He’d laughed good naturedly when Martin couldn’t help but chuckle at his pronunciation of certain words, and when his hand found Martin’s, Martin didn’t jump away.
It’s probably the booze to some extent, but neither of them are thinking about that. It’s just comfortable. Natural.
But it’s very foreign, because Martin is on his back and Buddy is astride him. His shirt is halfway off, his pants unbuckled and white underwear peeking through the fly. Martin’s heart is racing, and his hands are on Buddy’s thighs, palms growing sweaty against khaki fabric.
“You’re so handsome,” Buddy says as he slides the rest of the way out of his shirt. It falls to the floor unceremoniously.
Martin’s mouth goes dry, and his throat clicks as he tries to find something to say in return. What is there to say? That this is his first time with a man? The thought shocks him, because it means he’s doing more than considering this. He’s already committed. But then the shock subsides into a murky swirl of arousal. There’s still alcohol coursing through his system but all it’s doing is making this flow.
“I-I–”
“Yes, darling?” Buddy asks, leaning down and speaking softly against Martin’s cheek, then turning to lightly kiss his jaw. “What is it?”
“I’ve never—uh, I’ve never done this before.”
Martin isn’t certain, but Buddy might be smiling against his cheek. Anika couldn’t possibly be further from Martin’s mind.
“Well, that’s wonderful news. Here, let me handle everything. Sweet, beautiful stranger,” Buddy replies.
Then he catches Martin in a real kiss. Sweet lips plush and parting gently, tongue darting in to plead entrance. Martin grants it, eyes going wide and then half lidded, arms moving to gently encircle Buddy’s shoulders.
Buddy grinds down lightly. His ass rubs against where Martin suddenly realizes he’s throbbing and aching, leaking into his underwear. He groans.
“Please,” he asks, voice husky.
“Impatient.” There’s no displeasure in Buddy’s voice when he says it.
He lifts himself up enough to shimmy out of his pants, and then when he goes to pull down his underwear he catches Martin’s gaze with a smirk. He pulls the fabric taut and Martin watches intently as it catches on the tip of his generous cock, and gasps quietly when the fabric is pulled all the way down and the thing that was hidden springs free.
“Oh, you like that then,” Buddy says. He slides down the bed, then puts his fingers just to the side of Martin’s own bulge. “Let’s see yours, then.”
Martin’s lips are parted, his glasses sliding down on his nose, his hair messy and curtaining his forehead. He gasps again when he feels Buddy’s trailing touch, light but present over his clothed cock and then going to undo the buttons. Martin’s hips rise, and he allows himself to be undressed.
“You have a lot to be proud of,” Buddy says when he sees it.
There’s no good way to reply to something like that, but luckily Martin doesn’t have to. Because Buddy leans down and catches the tip in his mouth, lips working to roll the foreskin down and tongue pressing on the sensitive underside.
Martin sees stars.
“Ah!” he cries, and his thighs tense when Buddy’s hand joins his mouth.
He instantly starts bobbing, tightening his lips and swirling his tongue, coating Martin’s cock in saliva and making it throb and twitch beneath his touch. It’s almost too much.
“Careful,” Martin breathes, and Buddy lets off with a quiet ‘pop.’
“I’ll finish that job someday,” Buddy replies.
There’s a spark of hope in his voice, and it makes something in Martin’s chest ache. How did he get this way with a stranger? There’s no time to consider the question, and he doesn’t want to.
Buddy is moving again, straddling Martin’s hips and lifting himself and aiming Martin’s cock at his hole.
“Don’t you need, ah, lube? Or something? Condom?”
Quiet laughter out of Buddy at that, then he makes a big show of spitting on his fingers and reaching down, rubbing it against his hole. Martin’s eyes roll back and his head falls back on the pillow. The condom question is never addressed, and neither of them really care.
“That’ll be enough,” Buddy says. “I like when it burns a little.”
Martin looks up just in time to see Buddy start to lower himself down, and Martin drinks in the sight. He’s hairless aside from the neat bush right above his circumcised cock, which hangs heavy and drooping slightly from the weight of it. He’s looking down at Martin too, eyes half closed. That’s what Martin is staring at when it happens.
Maybe the look on Buddy’s face is what makes him moan so loud.
On top of that, Buddy is tight and hot, perfect around his cock. Martin’s hands go back to Buddy’s thighs, and he can’t stop himself from thrusting up a little. Buddy laughs but it’s cut off into a moan. He’s sinking down further, rocking his hips gently until they’re joined all the way, Martin’s balls pressed against Buddy’s ass.
“Perfect, perfect,” Buddy says, voice tight. “Are you feeling alright?”
“ Yes .”
More laughter at that.
“Then I want you to fuck me. Can you do that?”
Martin doesn’t give any verbal reply. He plants his feet on the bed and pulls Buddy down for a kiss, their noses colliding almost painfully. He grabs at Buddy’s ass and squeezes hard, swallows the little moan that drifts from Buddy’s mouth. Then he starts moving.
First, it’s slow. Rocking in and out, nerves singing at the cling of rim around his cock, the alien nature of the sensation. He’s never had anal sex before, and it’s a feeling he could quickly grow addicted to. The sensation of Buddy’s big cock pressed between them is amazing too, so foreign yet familiar. He hopes he gets to have this again. Specifically, with Buddy.
He buries his face into the crook of Buddy’s neck, and starts to move faster.
Buddy moans quietly, hand moving to cradle Martin’s head as it happens.
“Fuck, oh, yes please ,” Buddy whines, and it demolishes the last of what little hesitation Martin might have had less.
Slapping sounds ring out in the room, the springs on the mattress squeaking with the force of it. Martin’s hands squeeze and work at the flesh of Buddy’s ass before moving to grab him at the hips. He fucks in and out in long strokes sometimes, then alternates with grinding motions that make Buddy’s voice pitch a little higher. Working through the burn in his ass and thighs from doing this, Martin tries to make this feel as good as he can even as pleasure winds in his balls and radiates into his cock.
If he does this well, maybe he’ll get to have it again.
He hopes desperately that it will. His eyes screw shut tight, lips sliding against skin growing sweaty. His balls tighten to his body and his thrusts grow sloppier, more frenzied.
He feels Buddy’s orgasm before he hears it. The wonderful, perfect hole convulses around him, and then Buddy is moaning quietly, and pulling hard on Martin’s hair, sending pain radiating through his scalp that just amplifies the pleasure between his legs.
It takes a few more frenzied thrusts, then Martin’s cock throbs about the hardest it ever has, and he’s flooding Bobby’s ass with pulse after pulse of his release. He grinds it in as deep as he can, breath hitching and tears pricking at the corners of his eyes either from the pleasure or the sensation of being wanted . Of doing something well.
Buddy collapses on top of him. They’re sticky, and they’ll peel apart like thighs on a hot leather car seat in a moment or two.
Martin’s skin will be cold when that happens. Maybe Buddy will make him leave. Suddenly, he doesn’t want to let go.
“You’re full of surprises.” Buddy says after a while. “Based on that ring, I figure you’re married. But you’re about to get divorced, aren’t you?”
“Yes, yes I am,” Martin says. He doesn’t need to be told what that means.
“Good. Because I’m not sure I’m gonna let you go after that.”
Martin can’t help grinning. Getting drunk really was a fantastic idea tonight.