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Boys. None of them were exactly quiet. All yelling and screaming, a competition of noise and volume that was only matched by the sheer inability to indeed shut the fuck up. Boys are loud, uncompromisingly so. Like pots of pans banged together and wine bottles thrown against concrete. Broken car windows and fire alarms. Boys are their shenanigans. Covered in blood and cheap beer stolen from grocery stores.
At least, that's how he was now. Skin sticky. Near signature baggy shirt askew, boxers, and similarly baggy jeans sitting low on his hips. Then again, it’s not as if he looked anywhere near descent with dried blood from a split eyebrow trickling down his face, crimson dripping off his nose, and smearing over his cheek and lips. The hand grabbing his face, indeed a hand that was not his, squishing his cheeks as it guided his head to look up. Half-lidded greenish iris blown so wide then might as well have been eaten by the black void of his pupils.
“You’re such an idiot, O,” Then lips were against his, rough and uncompromising and tasting of bottom-shelf booze. All Steve-o could do was lean into it, groaning into the other man’s mouth, arms clawing for any hold on the man, pulling him closer, swallowing more of the tongue down his throat. He could feel, sense, the smirk on the other man’s lips as Steve-o let out a long whine. Not that his fried brain really cared, thoughts racing faster than Adderall-fed cheetahs. His hands shook as they dug into the other man’s broad shoulders when their mouths finally parted.
The dull bass of music drowning out their panting breaths. The thin walls of the apartment complex did little to muffle the screams and laughter of the party-goers mere feet away from the two of them. Separated by a few inches of shitty wooden paneled door, locked, as Knoxville had been sure to do when he shoved Steve-o inside and pushed him against the bathroom’s wall. Almost making a dent in the drywall. But that didn’t matter now, Steve-o's body humming with energy; Eyes unfocused but all the same stareing at the other man, head tilted, a stupid crooked-toothed grin spreading across his bloodied face. He could see the hungry look glimmering in the man’s chestnut eyes.
Smile faltering for just a moment as he felt Knoxville’s hand creep up under the hem of his baggy shirt, touching the skin of his hip and wandering up his side, cool fingers tracing over the bruises that colored the skin a blotchy purplish-maroon. It had been from some stupid stunt, crashing through a table, or a wall, or taking a round of paintballs to the side just for the hell of it. Who knows, if he’d kept a tally of his injuries it’d be long enough to span the Las Vegas strip and back. And now, the all too familiar thump of pain coursed up his body. Knoxville’s fingers pushing into the tender flesh just enough to hurt, dark eyes glued to the way the younger man’s face twitched. His other hand placed on Steve-o’s neck, thumb running across the man’s jaw muscles, which clenched as an especially sharp jolt of pain made him flinch.
“F- fuckin’ hurts, dude,”
“You like it,” Steve-o’s nose screwed up indignantly, one of his arms slipping off Knoxville’s shoulder to grab at the man’s wrist.
“I d--” The protest was swallowed by a sharp inhale; the sudden feeling of teeth biting into the soft flesh of his clavicle making Steve-o choke on air, at the same moment the hand on his side once again massaging at the marked skin. Mind racing as warmth pooled in his lower abdomen, the teeth replaced by a tongue grazing over the new marks. Blood bubbling up and mixing with liquor sweet saliva. Steve-o's head rolled back and collided with the plaster wall, making a dull thud. His lips parted and he swallowed hard. His hand tightening around Knoxville’s wrist. Pain flickering and throbbing through him, his legs almost buckling as he felt Knoxville’s lips brush over the now bleeding bite mark. Traveling up to his throat, gently sucking hickies into the clammy skin.
“Some-one’s g-gonna see those !” He could do little more than pant the words, holding back another low whine as another bruise was sucked into the delicate flesh just under his ear. He could feel Knoxville’s breath huff against his skin, the man letting out a low chuckle as he nuzzled into Steve-o’s neck.
“Won’t matter,” Knoxville hummed, both of his hands moving to settle on the younger man’s hips, the baggy shirt now ever more askew. “Jus’ say some chick got too enthusiastic ,”
“No chick bites like that, dude!” Steve-o's back arching as Knoxville’s hands tightening their grip, emphasized by the older of the two chuckling. Steve-o's own hands now loosely gripping onto the other man’s biceps, trembling just the smallest bit. Though it was anyone’s guess if it was from the various chemicals racing through his system or the heat building in his lower stomach. Which was, unfortunately, getting a little hard to ignore, what with Knoxville acting like a lovely-dovely southern-drawl boy-next-door; lips pressing to Steve-o's jaw and down his neck in such a gentle way it made the younger man’s chest tighten.
“C’mon,” It was barely said above a whisper, “Knox . . . ” He got a hum in reply, just about to say more when a loud knocking interrupted them. An unapologetic yell of some indignant bastard who couldn’t hold out for the bathroom any longer. Steve-o's whole body tensed up for a moment as his heartbeat spiked. Knoxville placed a finally lazy kiss on the corner of the other man’s mouth before pulling away and cracking his neck. Though Steve-o could sense the annoyance at the interruption. Another sharp bang on the door made him flinch.
Their bodies untangle from each other. Cloths readjusted, Steve-o desperately trying to adjust his shirt to hide the newly forming marks on his neck. No one could know, No, this was a private matter. It felt like someone had reached a hand inside his chest; squeezing and probing at his organs. Hand searching his pockets on instinct, jaw locked as his fingers pitched at a small baggie. It only took a few seconds.
How they’d ended up in Knoxville’s car was anyone’s guess. The last thing Steve-o clearly remembered was that classic sharp sting in his nose and a rush of what felt like new blood makes his hands shake. But now he had been shoved into the car, the interior smelled faintly like cigarettes and cheap cologne; all the more like Knoxville himself. Steve-o didn’t question the fact he’d been shoved in the driver's side door instead of the passenger's side, blinding accepting the loose mumble about the lock being ‘fucking broke by that dipshit’, who ‘dipshit’ was anyone’s guess. Steve-o shifted back on the bench seat until his back was against the passenger side door, shiny eyes darting around the car. The windows were tinted dark, much darker than was probably legal, the outside world also looking like a void from in here. The windshield allowed the gleam of far-off lights from street lamps that reflected off the leather seats. Green eyes snapping back as he watched Knoxville climb into the driver's seat, the man’s lanky frame mostly hidden by the darkness of the car, his sunglasses carefully set on the dashboard.
His movement seemed slow, methodical like he was trying to make Steve-o wait. Now that they weren’t just feet away from other people, nothing but a door lock kept them from being discovered. It almost made Steve-o desperate to get Knoxville’s mouth back against his own. Being around others was nerve-wracking, but being alone was. . . excruciating. The blood in his veins was still hot, bubbling under his skin. And all he could do was watch the other man carefully, surgically, remove a pack from some hidden pocket. Rough fingers removing a cigarette and popping it between his lips. Hand them moving to trigger the electric lighter. Steve-o could swear he could hear it starting to buzz as it started to heat up to red hot. All while Knoxville’s keys jingled as they were inserted into the dash and turned, the car engine started to hum. Steve-o's hands had unconsciously started to dig into the leather of his seat, eyes wide, his legs folded awkwardly as he sat staring. The electric lighter finally popped up, Knoxville wordlessly using it to light the cigarette. Rolling the car window down just a crack as he exhaled a breath of grayish curling smoke, like a practiced ritual. His dark eyes finally landing on the other man in the car, who was all but trembling now. Knoxville’s mouth a small smile, cigarette trapped between his lips as he.
There was a beat of silence, only the rumbling of the car engine as the green and dark hazel eyes locked. A thick curl of smoke circled around Knoxville’s face. Steve-o hadn’t noticed his body was leaned forward, now half kneeling on the seat. The both of them intoxicated close, Knoxville taking a long drag of the cigarette before plucking it from his lips with two fingers. Other hand quickly moved to cup Steve-o’s face and pull the younger man close as their mouths connected. Steve-o felt the thick taste of tobacco in his mouth as he inhaled the smoke from the other man’s lips, his own hands grabbing at the man’s shirt and twisting in the fabric. Then they pulled away as Steve-o exhaled the smoke, his face in a lopsided smile and eyes now half-lidded; fingers playing with the fabric of Knoxville’s shirt. This close, he could smell liquor and the unmistakable scent of Knoxville himself which always put his brain in a bit of a tizzy.
The man took another drag off the cigarette, dark eyes shining. Shining the way he did when he got one of his terrible dangerous ideas. Made even worse by the fact the man could bat his eyelashes and make Steve-o do anything he asked, without question. Maybe, earlier, Knoxville had been right. He did like it.
Knoxville’s hand had snaked down, fingers caressing Steve-o's neck, as if he was silently congratulating himself on the handwork of bruises that had bloomed over the skin.
“Well, sweetheart, wanna go for a ride?” It wasn’t a question.
There was almost nothing that compared to the roar of a car engine on an empty road. Echoing off buildings, rattling windows, leaving marks on asphalt as they screamed around corners. Nearly clipping parked cars, pushing 50, then 60, higher higher. Faster. Blowing through a red light, some car honked loudly as it slammed on brakes to their right. His mouth in a tight grin, cigarette crushed between his teeth. Steve-o yelling something incompressible, laughing out his window. Air rushing in cold and sharp, tasting like city and oil. Knoxville’s heart was in his chest. Yanking the wheel as the car skidded onto the on-ramp of the freeway. He didn’t much care where they were going, hell, he barely knew where they were. His eyes occasionally glanced in the rearview, then down to the speedometer, which was pushing numbers so fast, it almost seemed broken. The lights of the freeway flicked by like strobe lights.
80, 90, the needle swinging past 100. Steve-o's head was out the window, like a dog enjoying the breeze. The cigarette in Knoxville’s mouth had burned out, though the filter was still bit between his teeth. 110 . The engine rumbled like an angry animal. 115. Knoxville gripping the wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. His stomach felt like it had been left at some forgotten intersection 8 miles back. Should he have been driving, no, of course not. But that didn’t matter. Hazel eyes glancing over to watch the other man in the car, whose face was split in a wide smile, eyes like dinner plates; an absence of any sort of self-preservation in the look in those green eyes. 120. Both their heartbeats fast in time with the thrumming of the car engine. Floor rattling, wind-like needles. The speed was heaven and the asphalt was hell. And damn well they had wings, the both of them. 137.
Even before the car came to a stop, their bodies were against each other, desperate for the other’s embrace. Steve-o halfway in Knoxville’s lap; straddling a thigh, the older of the two no doubt having difficulty turning the steering wheel as hands found their way under his shirt, a hungry mouth nipping and kissing his neck. Steve-o practically rutted himself against Knoxville’s thigh as he panted, heartbeat still thundering in his ears and mind racing. Muttering things under his breath, that sounded like a mix of swears and prayer. Then again, no God would have approved of the mess he was at the moment.
The parking job was shitty, but neither of them cared. The second Knoxville could get his hands off the wheel and onto the other man was the second everything else became irrelevant. Their mouths locked together, drool wetting their lips and hands clawing at each other. Knoxville's hand traced up and down the boney knots of Steve-o's spine, grazing his nails over the warm skin. It was almost a bit funny how worked up the younger man was, grinding his hips down on Knoxville’s thigh to just get the smallest bit of friction to satisfy that need boiling deep in his guts. Though, it’s not like Knoxville was doing much better, only slightly in more control of himself as he swallowed the other man's whimpers and slipped his other hand between them to lazily palm at his crotch.
The hand stilly tracing up and down the knobbly spine was wandering now, along muscle and sinew and now pressing to a large splotchy bruise that took up a swath of skin on Steve-o side. The pads on fingers pressed hard into the tender flesh, rewarded with a few throat-caught moans. Pressing harder still, making the man arch his back, breaking away from Knoxville’s intoxicating mouth just to cough up a gravelly whine. One of Steve-o's hands coming up to cover his face out of what seemed like pure embarrassment, though his back was still arched, if anything pushing into the painful touches that arced through his nerves. Nails digging into skin, all while the older of the pair watched like a hawk, leaning in just a little close to study the way Steve-o’s face twitched. The younger man’s hand clutching at Knoxville, fabric, and skin, and yet his hips were still grinding down against the man’s thigh and the burst of heat in his gut had done anything but lessen in intensity. The fingers probing his back slid down, dancing along the hem of his jeans, then slowly undoing the zipper. Every opportunity given for Steve-o to move away, to reject the advances, but no.
Instead, All Steve-o could manage to do was choke a whimper into his hand, eyes shut tight as he felt the hand undo his jeans, slipping past his boxers, and finally grabbing at, at this point painfully hard dick. His hips automatically jolting at the contact, dick pulled from the confines of his jeans, the tip shiny with precum the length of it twitching. Knoxville’s hand constricting tight around the shaft. A small itchy part of Steve-o brain was screaming at him that all this was way too gay to be acceptable, another arguing that it was fine ad he could just imagine it was a girl or something, and another shouting that no girl had hands like Knoxville’s, and no girl could make him whimper and whine and act like a total finger-sucking bitch. Thoughts racing, much too fast for any conclusion to be drawn about his current state of affairs before the hand, which did, indeed, belong to a man, started to slowly stroke up and down the shaft of his dick in a way that made his abdominals tense and thigh muscles contract; snapping his hips forward into the touch.
Knoxville, who’d been watching with near pure amusement in his eyes, his other hand caressing his dick through the dark fabric of his pants, was, in turn, all the more tempted to see what Steve-o would do next. He could easily see how the younger man twitched and shook at every touch, Knoxville knew it hurt too, the absence of any sort of lube beyond the slick precum wasn’t exactly the most comfortable he was sure. But it’s not as if Steve-o was complaining, hell, the tattooed bloody face masochist was probably enjoying it all the more with the friction of raw skin and heat fisting at his cock. And fuck Knoxville dry, it was a fucking heaven to watch even in the dim light of the street lamps seeping into the car. It would be a lie to say his mouth wasn’t watering.
To say Steve-o wasn’t proud of the needly mewl that escaped his lips when the hand on his dick suddenly disappeared would be an understatement. The younger man’s face turned a deep shade of red, as his body tried to curl up on itself from embarrassment. But instead, he felt himself moved and adjusted into a different possession, now fully straddling Knoxville’s lap, near chest to chest, Steve-o's legs spread in an obscene fashion. The steering wheel of the car pressing hard into his back. Those shiny green eyes finally blinked open, darting to Knoxville’s face; partly obscured by shadow, then to the man’s chest, then down between them. Watching the man’s long fingers undo his belt and just start to unzip his pants before Steve-o looked away. His chest heaving with heavy uneven breaths. Eyes searching for anything to distract himself. Both his hands, which had found their way to Knoxville’s broad shoulders, played with the fabric of the man’s shirt as a useless distraction. All attempts at distracting himself failed the instant he heard the older man breathe a low moan, that sounded suspiciously like Steve-o’s name. So suspiciously like it, in fact, it made the younger man’s stomach tighten and dick twitch. There it was again, a little more clear, the hair on the back of Steve-o's neck standing on end, his gaze still averted from the other man, though that was getting harder and harder. No pun intended. All while he could feel, the chestnut eyes burning into him like two beads of molten glass. He could hear the sloppy wet sounds of the other man’s hand moving, up and down, not fast, but not slow, and in a manner that was making his dick spasm; more precum beading at the tip. Hell, who wouldn’t have a sort of reaction if Johnny fucking Knoxville moaned their name like it was a sin against blood-holy wine-fed strict God.
“Look at me, cupcake,” It wasn’t said like a plea, just on the edge of demand. With that stupid fucking nickname that made Steve-o's face go pink and a little too warm to be comfortable. And he did look, with just a little hesitation, chewing on his lower lip as he shakily met the other man’s eyes. Watching the man lick a long strip up his palm before moving his hands down. And fuck it, Steve-o felt his guts turn upside down, inside out, and spin like they had been hooked onto a moving train. Fuck if Knoxville didn’t still have his twisted around his little finger, the man looked so damn obscene.
Hand working his dick, the same hand that had been on Steve-o’s own cock just a few moments ago, which really shouldn’t have been exhilarating as it was. They were so damn close, claustrophobically so. The younger man couldn't help himself when he let his body move just a bit closer, settling more in Knoxville’s lap. Steve-o’s hand moving down, off the muscled shoulder to his own dick. Which had sorely missed any sort of contact as it throbbed in his grasp, his movements jerky and uncoordinated as he tried desperately to mimic the rhythm of Knoxville's movements. They were almost in time, it was mind-fuckingly pornographic in Steve-o’s opinion, really fucking gay, but reaalllyyy fucking hot.
He hadn't noticed Knoxville’s free hand moving to grasp at the nape of his neck. Dragging the younger man closer, once again pressing their mouths together, the kiss starting out slow, Steve-o practically melting into it as his hips rolled. Whimpering as he felt his dick rub against Knoxville’s, whose hand had moved to Steve-o wrist, tugging on it as if encouraging the younger man to let go. Which he did, both of their dicks fully pressing together now as best they could in the cramped space of the car. Only a moment flicking by before Knoxville’s hand wrapped loosely around both dicks, not able to go all the way around but that didn’t much matter. Pressing them, the bit of Knoxville’s saliva served as a small comfort of lube as the man’s hand started to lazily jack them both off. Steve-o trying to keep his hips from jerking into the touch, all while sucking and nipping on Knoxville’s tongue, which had found its way into his mouth. The whole situation was horribly disgustingly erotic. Like a quickie before church and you forgot to wash your hands as you turn the pages of the bible, something like that. God knows any priest wouldn’t have enjoyed the words spilling out of Steve-o’s lips in the few moments he got between sloppy kisses and gasping for air.
It felt like someone had poured gasoline down his throat and made sparks in his belly, overstimulated and on the brink of being overwhelming. It was all too much, overclocking his brain as his body trembled more and more at every movement and touch. Hips rolling at a jerking rhythm, and dick throbbing. He felt like a horny teenager again, not that he really ever left that stage, but it was different. Almost like this whole thing his cruel brian had made up just to torture him, that he’d wake up any second with an erection so painful it hurt and precum soaked boxers; not to mention an inability to look Knoxville in the eyes for at least a week. But, as far as he could tell, this wasn’t a brain-sick dream, no, it was very much, profanely real. And he was loving it.
Steve-O honestly didn’t know when his moans had become less gibberish and started to sound more and more like Knoxville’s name, syllables dripping off his tongue like honey. “F-uck Johnny, sh it fu-- j-john- - ny , dude, i- fuck, ” Interspersed with gravelly whines and grunts. Not that Knoxville himself was faring any better, that loose grip of self-control he’d gained starting to crack and slip away as his hand moved faster around their dicks, trying to stiff the sounds trying to escape his own mouth. That devilishly hot twist of heat in his gut really started to make his self-control falter more and more with each passing second. Subsequently driven forward in madness by the sounds Steve-o was making, an especially loud groan drooled from Steve-o’s pink lips. “I’m so cl- o se,” That damn near sent Knoxville off the ledge himself, it was said with such a needy breathy way. A way he’d never heard before escape the other man’s mouth. And he damn well wanted to hear it again, a few swears falling from his own lips alongside a low grunt; his jaw muscles clenched as he growled something that sounded vaguely encouragement mixed in with the other man’s name. Their mouths slammed back together in a hungry kiss like they were both starving men; ravonious and needy.
Hand moving faster and faster, finally squeezing hard around them both as Steve-o’s hips buckled up, a loud whiny groan reverberating up his whole body and then swallowed down Knoxville’s throat. Steve-o’s body spamming, spine arching once again, arms half slung around Knoxville’s shoulder; a hand finding its way to entangle in the man’s short dark hair. Who was also just at the edge, stomach tight, shaking with pent-up energy. The knots in both their stomachs snapping taught at nearly the same moment, bodies involved in an all-consuming bonfire, and nerves popping like firecrackers. Both of them noises like sin, wet and raw and wholly orgasmic.
Sticky ropes of ejaculant coating the front of their shirts, staining the fabric and oozing down over Knoxville’s hand, over scared knuckles and a few small cuts. The aftershocks of the orgasm made blood rush loud in his ears, hips bucking just a bit as he let out a satisfied moan. He felt both dicks throb in his hand, if anything making another beat of fire stir in his gut. It was disgusting, needlessly so, but that didn’t stop Knoxville from releasing his grip and raising the unsteady hand to his mouth to puppy-lick a bit of a slimy ejaculant from his fingers. The taste sending a shiver down his spine, a giggle bubbling in his throat. A toothy smile on his face as he wiped the mess off on his shirt. It needed to be washed anyway at this point.
All Steve-o could do was pant. Every muscle in his body shot, mind cloudy and much too fuzzy around the edges to say or do anything requiring even the smallest bit of brain function. Though his mouth still moved in the impression of thoughts and murmurs, whimpering as the orgasm played out through his form. He could see Knoxville’s face, the man looked so drunk on lustful satisfaction it was almost enough to make Steve-o kiss-- no. Slap him. Yeah, slap him. Sure, that’s what he was thinking about. Not kissing the man again, pink dusting across his cheeks as just the smallest bit of embarrassment rose in his gut. His mind skirted around the fact he’d just came due to the older man’s touch, moaning his name like an obscenity. But yeah, thinking about the man’s lips against his was certainly too much. And damn, if it wasn’t like Knoxville could read minds, because their lips had connected again. Soft this time, all lovey-dovey and sweet. And salty. Oh. Oh. Steve-o pulled away from the kiss for a moment, blowing a raspberry with his tongue, giving Knoxville a look like the man was a dog.
“D-did you fuckin’ eat-- ?” The question died in his throat as his lips were once again pressed against Knoxville, who hummed and smiled into the kiss as if that was enough of an answer to be sufficient. And yet, Steve-o couldn’t help but melt into it. Only a small part of him protested, and that was quickly squashed by the pure next to religious experience of Knoxville’s mouth against his. Like iced sweet tea on a summer day. Even if there was a bite of salty bitterness. Fuck it.
When their mouths finally did break apart in their breathy fashion, both of them sucking in gasps of air, sticky with sweat and warmth. The interior of the car was something close to a sauna, windows coated in a thick condensation that made it obvious to any poor soul passing by at this hour what had transpired inside the closed door and on the leather seats. Then again, not many would be passing by in the secluded backlot of the parking lot, just outside an apartment complex that looked more akin to a place one goes to buy blow or a blow than anything else. Didn’t matter now.
Their movements slowed as they lazily decided to clean themselves up, Steve-o's face still dusted with pink as he precariously climbed off the other man’s lap. Accidentally japed an elbow into the car’s horn, which blared so loud it almost made him jump out of his skin. All while Knoxville barked out a chittery hyena laugh, a hand covering his mouth, ignoring the slap to the arm from Steve-o; whose face only got redder as he squirmed away. Muttering something along the lines of “Shut up, dude,” as he tried to sit back on the leather seats properly. The front of his shirt still sticky and hands not faring any better; trying to wipe them off on the fabric. Still a knot of baffle shame somewhere deep in his guts. But it was better to ignore that for now.
Green eyes darting to Knoxville the engine of the car rumbling to life, then back down to the floor when the older man’s eyes flickered towards him. Though something did Catch Steve-o’s eye, his mouth twisting up in a grin as he contorted and reached towards the glint of metal. Delicately picking up the pair of Knoxville’s sunglasses that had fallen, who knows when, to the car’s floor. Steve-o proudly held them up as if he’d found a winning lotto ticket, which made the corner of Knoxville’s mouth twitch up; even as he watched the man sloppily put them on, looking like he’d just gotten away with murder, lopsided grin plastered on his face. Knoxville couldn’t help but roll his eyes, hand moving to shift the car into reverse.
“We’ll be at my place in a few,” Steve-o cocking an eyebrow at the comment, though his green eyes were focused out the window at the dark outside.
“Yeah, didn’t want your neighbors to see the show?” The jab only caught in his throat for a moment, before he choked it out. Getting Knoxville to snort.
“No, sweetcheeks,” Steve-o felt the man’s gaze on him, “I just couldn’t keep my hands off ya’ for any longer,” The younger man’s posture straightened a bit at that, looking more decidedly out the window when he replied.
“I - yeah, o -okay, sure, ” It’s not that Steve-o necessarily didn’t notice that hand creeping up his thigh, settling a little too far up to be purely innocent in its intention. That sort of energy started to buzz in the air around them again. Fingers lightly squeezing at his narrow thigh, massaging the flesh through his jeans; making Steve-o sit stiff as he tried not to melt into the touch. Though he was still gnawing on his lower lip, eyes still focused on the scenery outside the car. It hadn’t even been 15 minutes, and that fire in his belly was starting to boil again. Bubbling up in small nerve-fire ways just from Knoxville’s less-than-innocent touch, and it made Steve-o’s face flush. Jesus Christ.
They had barely made it in through the door before Knoxville had taken it upon himself to slip his hands under Steve-o's shirt and made shift work of extracting the man from its clutches. Their mouths crashed together as the door of the apartment closed with a crack, Knoxville’s hands tracing up and down the younger man’s now naked back. Steve-o’s bare chest pressed to the other man’s shirt as he made a concerted effort to deepen the kiss if just for a second before Knoxville was stripping off his own top; tossing it away. All of the air seemed to be sucked out of the small apartment as Steve-o breath caught in his throat, green eyes darting along the line and curves of the other man’s body. The windows of the apartment let in cold light from street lamps, casting long shadows over the both of them. A slice of light cutting across Knoxville’s bare chest. Sure, he’d seen the man shirtless before, hell , he’s seen, touched, the man’s dick not too long ago. But there was a certain stupidly sensual thing, that was making Steve-o mouth water just the smallest bit. Not that he’d ever admit that. Eyes following the dusting of dark hair that lead down the man’s abdomen to the hem of his pants. Belt buckle crooked. And fuck Steve-o right in his perverted little brain that single detail made his dick twitch.
That infernal heat pulled the two of them back together. Knoxville’s arms lazily slung around the other man’s waist, fingers outline over the impressions of muscles and bone. Steve-o’s own hands reflexively go to either side of Knoxville’s much too pretty face, thumbs tracing the sharp jawline and bit of stubble. They were practically melting into each other's touch. It felt easier now, maybe that was the fact they weren’t trapped in the confines of a car. Or maybe it was that some small rebellious bit of Steve-o's subconscious had never really wanted to pull away from Knoxville in the first place, not even back in that bathroom.
They did eventually have to break the kiss, Knoxville taking the pause to guide them towards what Steve-o could only assume to be the bedroom. The bother of them kicking off shoes and socks in the process. The click makes a lamp spark to life, dim orangish hues bathing the room. A few pairs of socks and various clothes scattered across the floor. A dresser, a desk with a few random items scattered across it. The bed, shoved in the far corner, accompanied by a small bedside table, littered with a few small objects lost in the shadows of the room. The window, not far from the bed, was cracked open to let the occasional cold slip of air in. It looked like Knoxville lived there, like they’d stepped into his space. It smelled like him too, Cologne and sweet tobacco and some other undertone that made Steve-o’s blood rush a little hotter. Sea glass eyes wandered for just a few more moments before he was pushed onto the bed, making an ‘ouph’ sound as he landed in the soft tangle of blankets and sheets. Crawling back onto the mattress, propping himself up on his elbows. It felt like his heart was beating in his throat; watching that other man climb up and position himself between Steve-O’s slightly bent legs, which had reflexively spread to accommodate him. A halo of orangish light making the curves of Knoxville’s shoulders and arms all the more apparent.
Steve-o tilting his head away, hands flexing, something itching in the base of his skull. Nervousness at their physical position making his throat tighten; The implications he didn’t want to think about threatening to make an appearance as he felt Knoxville’s hands settle themselves on his thighs. Steve-o’s own hands scrabbling for his pants pockets, fingers searching and finally pulling the small dime bag out of his pocket with a shaky grip. There was just enough left. Green eyes flicked up again, searching for some sort of response that he’d sure was going to be something like disapproval. But instead, there was a fresh spark in Knoxville’s eyes, a sort of curious glee. Steve-o’s hands were sloppy in their attempts to open the small baggie, almost yelping when Knoxville plunked it from his fingers. Nervous energy buzzing in the air as the man held it, prying the seam open. Some idea clicked in his head as the corner of his mouth twisted up, dark chestnut eyes locking Steve-o in a nearly inescapable gaze; whose own gaze was flicking back and forth between the man’s face and the small baggie.
“Saw a girl do this once,” Knoxville winked. “Hope it works,” Without a second thought, the man poured the contents of the baggie onto his tongue, white powder mixing with saliva. Steve-o’s eyes like dinner plates. The next millisecond, Knoxville’s mouth was pressed to his, bitterness overwhelming his scene as the powdery substance was spread to his mouth. Bitter, like dark chocolate, gravely and sticking to the pink of his gums. Steve-o barely processed what was going on, but on instinct he was kissing back, that buzzing numbness making his hands grip at the sheets, clawing at the threads. Knoxville’s body heavy and all-encompassing, bare skin against bare skin. Their hips almost grinding against each other at this point. One calloused hand cupping Steve-o face, the other running up and down his arm. Following ridges of tense muscle and chicken-scratch ink work.
The air in the room felt like it was slowing inches up in degrees. Their breathing harsh and panting, blood racing through their veins almost in time down to the beat. Bodies rocking against each other. Steve-o’s head filled with what felt like sparks, little mini bottle rockets bouncing around his skull. Blurry green eyes watching Knoxville sit back and wipe off his mouth with the heel of his palm. Pink swollen lips parted. Even in the dim light, it was obvious the chestnut eyes were blown wide, even darker than before. Steve-o’s breath catching as he felt the hard outline of a dick press to the curve of his ass, watching the way Knoxville’s tongue lulled out of his mouth as he rocked his hips against Steve-o’s.
Just a hair’s breadth away from fucking, despite them both still having their trousers on. And hell if the idea didn’t make the younger man’s brain fire into overdrive.
“Shit,” Knoxville panted, “I see why you love this stuff,” Dark eyes watching his own hand tremble. A cock-sure smile on his face. Steve-o could only mumble something in reply, he couldn’t focus on much besides the blood rushing in his ears, muscles threatening to spasm. Loosely watching as the other man reached over the small bedside cabinet, rummaging through the drawer. Finding what he was looking for with a pleased hum, tossing it onto the bed. Hands now moving to caress down Steve-o’s sides. Sending shivers up the man’s spine. Then Knoxville was leaning in again, mouth just next to the younger man’s ear, breath tickling skin. Voice vibrating inside Steve-o’s skull, “We’ll take this slow, yeah, cupcake?” Steve-o trying in vain to make his mouth work in some sort of snarky reply, only coming up with a half-hearted “Fuck you, man,” Which made Knoxville snicker.
Deft fingers were undoing Steve-o’s pants, the man squirming, hands moving to cover his face. All the while the much too gentle fingers hooked through his belt loops, tugging the jeans and boxers down. Steve-o reflexively lifted up his hips from the bed so the clothes could slide down easier, left at mid-thigh. It took some maneuvering to get the items off, but they managed, even if a pant leg was still tangled around Steve-o’s ankle as Knoxville settled back into his place between the other man’s narrow thigh. Knoxville clicked his tongue approvingly, his eyes roving over the new skin. Downy hair down his stomach and thighs. Hip peppered with bruises, tense muscles carving outlines of hips and sinew. A finger pressed to the hollow of the younger man’s hip just to elicit a flinch in response. Finger tracing a loose pattern it wandered around Steve-o’s lower belly, which made him grit his teeth. “Stop teasing, dude,” Half-spit half-muttered into his hands. “ f-uck off.” A pitchy giggle from Knoxville. It was a tease, no doubt, Steve-o's dick ignored; left untouched and throbbing, painful with how sensitive it already was laying against his belly. Precum beaded at the tip for the second time that night. The man looked undeniably needy, vulnerable. Legs bent up and apart, like a whore. If one was less gentle about it. And Knoxville was drunk on it. Fucking blackout. His own dick aching for attention, but he could wait.
Steve-o barely noticed Knoxville’s other hand searching on the bed, finding the small bottle he'd tossed there some time ago, opening the cap with his teeth. Squeezing the bottle to coat his hand is a healthy dose of lubricant, spreading it over his fingers. Perfect. Knoxville hummed, his body was buzzing with energy, coils of heat settling in the pit of his stomach. Excitement brewing. Hand slipping between the narrow downy-haired thighs, the other moving to hold the back of one of the man’s knees, pushing it up. Leg forced to fold up to Steve-o's chest. The younger man muttering something and shifting uncomfortably, arm bent over his face. Slippery cold-coated fingers traced down the exposed area between his legs. Steve-o trying to swallow the immediate panic response that came, stomach muscles clenching like he expected Knoxville to punch or jab or do something painful like this whole thing was a giant joke just to get him real good. A sharp inhale as a finger pressed to his asshole, tracing the tight ring of muscle. Some low hum from Knoxville. The finger then pushing inside; the lube providing some relief. Cold and slippery, and making a rush of odd sensation up Steve-o’s body. It was odd. Strange, intimate. The digit up to the second knuckle, then the third.
Only pausing for a moment before it curled up, pressing against the tightening inside muscle. Moving in and out in tiny segments as the man’s body got used to the sensation. Steve-o trying to get a hold on his breathing, he could feel Knoxville’s other hand petting the back of his thigh. Tracing tendons, fingering bruises. Steve-o’s dick drolled more precum onto his belly, which mingled with the hair and already sticky hot flesh. Though he did have a mind to move a hand to touch himself, he didn’t, refocusing instead on the finger probing his insides. Massaging, as the second finger joined the first. Knoxville pushed the fingers deeper as if he was searching for something, curling them up. And by god he must have found something because it made Steve-o’s hips jolt, mouth making a sickly moaning sound. Back arching.
“F-fuck dude, what the hell ?” All the younger man got in reply was a smile. Something like ‘i found it’ said in a sing sound voice as Knoxville curled in fingers again, pressing up against the bundle of nerves inside Steve-o’s belly. It made the man below him shake, an odd buzzing pleasure rumble through his veins. The sensation shooting straight at his dick, which twitched. Flesh hot and sticky and already oversensitive. Fingers fucking at a slow rhythm out of the ring of pink muscle, which spasmed aorund them and the younger man let out raspy moans. Rough breaths exhaled from an open mouth, drool slipping down his cheek onto the sheets of the bed. It made Knoxville hungry for more, jaw tense, and cock throb. Like hell, dark eyes raking over Steve-o’s form. Sweaty sticky skin and chords of tense muscle.
More lube added to the mess between the man’s legs as Knoxville took the liberty of adding another finger, the burning stretch of muscle making Steve-o open his mouth indignantly, though only protests you could have made were swallowed when the fingers began a quicker rhythm. A vicious knot tightening in his belly, hips unconsciously rocking as he choked out a breath. He was almost there already, pushed towards the edge of a cliff by Knoxville’s much too practiced fingers and words of encouragement that Steve-o was just barely processing. The older man whispering swears and filth just loud enough to make Steve-o’s back arch and head spin. Lower gut tensed hard as the fingers twisted in him, going as deep as they could into him. Stretching the muscle, insides slippery and wet.
A yelp of surprise cut short by a strong hand wrapping hard around Steve-o’s throat. The man’s sea-glass eyes snapped wide and arms moved quickly to claw at the hand. Loosely grabbing at it as he stared up at Knoxville who was grinning, crooning as his other hand still moved quickly inside the man. Building up that brain-rotting heat in his lower stomach.
“It’ll make it better, promise,” And for the life of him, Steve-o believed him. Head throbbing as the lack of oxygen started to catch up to him, grip loosening on Knoxville’s arm as he let himself slip into oblivion. Coils popping in his belly, cock pulsating as white strings splattered over his belly in even more of a mess than before. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Body curling in on itself, internal muscles spanning around the fingers still buried deep inside his guts pressing against whatever was making those spikes of pleasure arch through him. His throat felt dry, mouth wordless mouthing what would have been a long string of creative curses if he’d have had the air to say them. The hand around his throat tightening, sure to leave deep bruises. Align the bite that was already festering on his clavicle, alongside countless marks sustained from the night. Steve-o’s vision blurred and spotty, body trembling, consciousness slipping as he felt his hips buck upwards in the dregs of the orgasm. Fuuucckkkk.
The first breath felt like someone had made him swallow gasoline. Body still trembling, cold sweat on his skin. Eyes open wide and scouring the still blurry ceiling for an explanation he didn’t find. Panic near setting in before the gears in his brain screeched to a halt. Soft lips pressed to the hot skin of his neck, which was already starting to spot. Buzzing with dull pain. Steve-o choking out a long whimpering groan. Head lulling back against the mattress under him. His body felt like it was made of jelly, arms flopping out to either side of him. Half flinching as he felt the digits inside of him slip out with a wet pop. Not willing to admit to himself that he nearly instantly missed the feeling, insides now empty.
He felt Knoxville’s breath against his neck, the man bent over him for a moment more before he pulled away. Chestnut eyes examining his wet fingers, and eyes raking over the mess covering Steve-o’s belly. All while the man under him squirmed, his mind still floating between consciousness. Barely noticing as Knoxville moved, extracting himself from between Steve-o’s legs. Wiping off the sticky liquids from his hand on the sheets before helping stretch out the leg that was still bent up to Steve-o’s chest. The muscles protesting and cramping along the way as the younger man grunted and blinked hard.
Finally rolling onto his side with a hard exhale of breath. Overwhelming tiredness hitting him like a truck, and he knew what that felt like. He could still feel Knoxville next to him on the bed, the man’s breathing just slightly out of rhythm. Dark eyes taking in every detail of the man below him and cataloging it in whatever kind of fucked up system he had knocking around in that handsome-- stupid skull of his. Light fingers tracing over Steve-o’s hip. And up over the tender flesh of his flank and ribs. Then to his neck and up further his jaw. Holding it with a feather grip as he gently turned the man’s face up. Placing a soft kiss on the swollen-red lips. Steve-o straining up into the kiss as Knoxville started to pull away, just to get a little more of that next to the addictive feeling that sparked in his nerves.
Dark eyes glimmering. Y’know, like in those romance novels on plastic shelves just before checkout at a general store. Steve-o could feel his heart squirm in his chest, the man was still holding his face in a large hand. Knoxville’s body enveloping him, face’s hovering inches from each other. Breath’s intermingling.
“You have no idea how much of a tease you are,” It was said barely above a whisper in that syrupy sweet Tennessee voice.
“Y-yeah,” A swallow. “Well, I’m pretty hot ,”
Knoxville’s laugh was like a Remington, a twitchy smile on Steve-o’s face.
“You sure are. Just searing,”
“Like a hamburger,”
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Steve-o grinned, overly pleased with himself as he watched Knoxville roll his eyes. “If that had been anyone else, that would have been a real mood killer, honey-bunches,” Knoxville shifted closer again, lips brushing over the other man’s cheekbone and down to the hollow of his throat. The flesh tasted like salt.
“Lucky I’m me then,”
“ Mhmmm,” There was a beat, silence filled by soft breathing.
“PJ,” It was said just above a whisper, and it made Knoxville’s chest tighten. A sly smile worming its way onto his lips. Raised his head.
“Yes, cupcake?” He could see just a brief flash of annoyance across Steve-o features, the younger man batting away the hand that was moving to trace along his jaw.
“You aren’t gonna tell anybody about this, right ?” The question asked so quietly it was a hair's breadth away from silence, the last word asked like it was glass teetering on the edge of a table. And it made Knoxville’s heart skip a beat. His hand gently wrapped around Steve-o's wrist and brought the man’s hand up so he could press a soft kiss to the bony knuckles.
“Never in a million years, sweetheart.” The stiffness in the younger man’s body seemed to drain out of him, shoulder slumping as he exhaled a shaky breath.
“Okay, good, g ood, cool, yeah. . .okay, yeaa- ”
“Yeah no problem, dude,” Knoxville’s voice pitched as he toddled out a raspy impression of the other man.
“I don’t sound like that, dude !”
“I don’t sound like th- - OW !” A cry of pain as Knoxville rolled away, hand reflexively shielding his crotch before any more pain could be inflicted. Laughter bubbling from his throat as the pain subsided. Smirk sharp on his swollen lips. “I ain’t no fag, dude,” Impersonation still on his tongue, Knoxville’s eyes glinting. Steve-o matched the gaze, fingers flexing as he felt his stomach lurch. Hand moving without a second thought to slap the older man. The sting of his fingers against a cheekbone. A flash of erotic joy in Knoxville’s chestnut eyes. Then they were on each other, wrestling. Steve-o only half noticed he was still fully naked while Knoxville was still half-dressed in his stupid dark blue pants. Though his belt was gone. Less pointy metal things poking where they shouldn’t be.
The wrestling match wasn’t serious, not like it was on the floor of some booze-mopped nightclub with a guy who’d spit and gnashed his teeth. And even in those cases, usually, his pants stayed on. Steve-o grinning, his body straddled over Knoxville’s; Pinning the older man to the mattress. Hands trying to grab onto something, only to be caught in the other man’s grip, Steve-o still wearing that face-splitting grin as he tried to worm away from the hold. He didn’t mean to grind his hips down against the other man’s erection, but he did. Steve-o’s smile only faltered for a second, watching the way the man’s face twisted, eyes like melted pools of chocolate. Short dark hair messy, sticking up in all directions like he’d just woken up.
“Shit, dude,” He practically said it to himself, voice cracking. Steve-o parodying the movement once again. Knoxville inhaled sharply, grip on Steve-o’s wrist loosening for a moment as the younger man’s hips ground down in small circles, the lube that had yet to dry staining the dark fabric of the man’s pants. It felt exposing, embarrassing, or atleast close to it. The outline of a hard erection pressing the curve of his ass, but at the moment it didn't register. His hands finally escaping the other man’s hold and clumsily moving to undo the man’s pants, the mechanics of which only took a bit of maneuvering to pull off successfully. Knoxville shifted to allow the trousers to be pulled lower on his hips. Face contorting for a moment as his erection sprung free; dick already tender from being left untouched for so long. Flesh a dark red, near maroon, and precum smeared over the head. The length of it pushed against the celf of Steve-o’s ass, which made the both of them breathe a little harder. Steve-o’s back arched, thighs locked against Knoxville’s waist as he shifted back into a comfortable possession on top of the man, whose hands had settled right at the sinewy muscle connecting thighs and hip. Thumbs pressing into the skin just enough to leave an impression.
Steve-o using one arm to help support himself, the other reaching blindly down behind him to shakily grasp at the dick pressing against his ass. Sea-green eyes focused on Knoxville’s face, watching the man’s lips part to suck in a breath followed by a low whine. Steve-o’s body, despite being sore already, couldn’t help but click back into gear. That hungry little thing living inside his head scratching and thrashing. He wanted to get more of those soft noises out of Knoxville and damn well sure he was going to try. Ignoring protests of soreness from his limbs as he raised himself upwards. Hand moving to guide the head of the cock to press against his hole, the area still sick with leftover lube. Steve-o’s face a flushed red, his eyes darting away as he shifted, only hesitating a moment before half-lowing half-pushing the dick in. Internals spasming at the intrusion, muscles burning in protest. Gritting his teeth, forcing himself to relax the smallest bit as he let the cock slide further in. The head now fully inside, more precum slicking the warm insides.
The hands on his hips tensed as the man under him groaned. “F-fuck,” Steve-o could feel the cock throb, it almost made him feel pleased with himself. Shifting his hips and sliding further down the length of the dick, ignoring the protests of his body. Breathing shaky, lips parted, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as if to clear away the thoughts buzzing in his head. Gaze refocusing on the man below him, who was breathing hard, chest rising and falling. Knoxville opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but instead his voice dissolved into a long groan as Steve-o’s body moved fast. The younger man near yelping in pain as he forced his body down fully onto the dick. Both hands now move to grab at the other man, nails digging into the skin of his chest.
Steve-o’s back arched, whole body wracked with trembling as he gasps in short breaths of air. Head rolling back on his shoulders. Insides feeling like they were on fire. Choking on a breath, throat tight. It felt like the dick was filling his belly, stretching his insides. A mix between a long string of swear words and a moan escaped his lips. Brain only half noticing the hands on his hips were holding on deathly tight, fingers digging into the skin hard enough to bruise. Blinking hard to clear away the pain surging through him, it was no worse than the abuse he’d already suffered. Broken bones and animal bites alike. Though it was different this time. A whine sounded in his throat as he tilted his head forward, as he steadied himself. Now drawn to the man under him, the red marks blossoming on his chest from Steve-o’s nails. Eyes glancing to the older man’s face, which looked like he’d been slapped, again . Vaguely dazed, chocolate eyes unfocused and mouth muttering something resembling english.
“You-re so fuck- i n’ perfect, O,” Knoxville’s voice strained. “ Shit --” Hips bucking upwards, which made the younger man squirm, groaning. Reflexively grinding his hips down as a burst of pleasure runs on his spine, back muscles flexing. Panting as he let his insides adjust to the other man, trying to concentrate as the hands on his hips moved to caress up and down his thighs. Chewing on his lip as shifted back and forth, trying to get back that spark of warmth that seemed to be just out of reach. Reveling in the noises the man under him was making, breathing strained. Finally impatiently forcing his legs to lift him up just a bit before dropping back down. Vision almost going white as he choked out a sound like a kicked dog.
“Kno-x, fu ck,” Voice cracking, Steve-o's body jolting. He could feel his own dick throbbing and sore. Leaking precum that dripped onto the other man’s belly. Every small movement he made shooting fire through his veins. Insides contracted hard around the shaft of the dick as raised himself up higher, dropping back down, barely able to control the muscles of his legs. The display was sloppy and unpracticed but all the more intoxicating. Knoxville panting as he watched, eyes wide and dark. Lips shiny with drool, barely able to control himself as he used shaky hands to pet up and down Steve-o’s thighs and flanks. The man’s body tight and boiling around his dick, internal muscles flexing and contracting.
“I’m n-not gonna last very lo-ng --” The older man’s voice low and breathless, “ w-ith you doin’ all this, s-sweetheart,” A trembling breath leaving his lips. He wasn’t expecting much of a reply from the other, satisfied by a choppy ‘fuck me, dude’, hissed through teeth. Knoxville’s letting his hips jerk up to meet the other man’s movements, which were becoming bolder and faster in his sloppy rhythm. The room filled with the sounds of skin against skin, and shaky breaths; highlighted by swears and muttering of the other’s name. The men’s breathing is near synch. Steve-o raking his nails down Knoxville’s chest once again as his back arched and thighs locked against the man’s sides, grinding his hips down with a pornographic moan. Taking just a moment to suck in a few deep breaths, barely able to keep himself upright as he rocked his hips back and forth.
“ Shit, PJ, I can feel your fuckin’ d-ick in my throat, dude, I -- shiit,” Steve-o wasn’t much registering the words tumbling from his lips, nor how absoculty obscene they sounded. More focused on steeling himself for a few seconds, sea-glass eyes wandering until they locked on the face of the older man. Who looked like a mess, then again they both did. One of Knoxville’s hands snaked back to grab hard at the younger man’s ass, who whined at the touch. Repeating a mantra of ‘fuck fuck fuck’ as he bounced up and down again and again. Grinding and rocking his hips like he’d watched so many women do before, their faces a parody of porn covers, not that he really looked like a woman; no blonde curls and bouncing tits. Instead replaced by chicken scratch tattoos, the hard line of boney hips and narrow thighs. Skin salty with swear and brow furrowed in concentration as his back arched; a hand moving to cover his mouth. Moaning into his palm as he bucked his hips.
Steve-o could very distinctly feel the dick buried deep in his belly started to pulsate, followed by Knoxville making a very loud whimpering sound. The man’s tongue spouted off a string of curses and moans, voice thick and tinged with Tennessee drawl. Steve-o’s name somewhere in the mix as well, lettered drooled like melted sugar off the man’s lips. Ejaculant spilling into the younger man, coating the warm insides as Knoxville bucked his hips; body tense and breaths caught in his throat. Abdominal muscles flexing and tendons in his arms rippling. Shit, he was pretty. Steve-o’s eyes so wide they might pop out of his head as he studied every single detail of the man’s visage, the deep achy feeling in his gut making an embarrassingly girly whimper fall from his lips as he rocked back and forth.
Muttering as he squirmed. “C’mon c’mon ‘cmon,” As he felt his own oragsum approuch like a speeding train. It hurt. His dick twitching, the tip purplish and leaking. Every single nerve in his body felt like it was burning up and subsequently popping like a firecracker. Inside sore, slick and wet, and dirty. Body curled in on itself when what felt like a baseball bat collided with his skull, sending his head spinning as he whimpered the other man’s name. Pearly white ejaculant spilling out from Steve-o's dick, near bled dry and sensitive enough to make the man mewl. Every inch of his form trembling, wracked with aftershocks. He barely noticed as his body tipped forwards, limbs tangled as he collapsed onto Knoxville who grunted in response.
The two of them breathing in a sort of beat as they practically melted together. Skin sticky and bodies unstable. Steve-o chewing on his lip and squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the softening dick pop out of him. Followed by a rush of fluid that slipped down the back of his legs, making an even bigger mess between them, not to mention the maybe-to-be-washed sheets. Not that either of them really cared at the moment. Steve-o's head tucked into Knoxville’s shoulder, legs folded under him in a way that couldn't possibly have been comfortable; though instead of moving he only further nuzzled his face into the other man’s neck, arms loosely wrapped around the man’s torso. Voice raspy and low.
“I can, uh, kinda see why girls like this sorta thing-- ”
“Yea-h.” Knoxville sucking in a breath, his hands finally unlocking from their holds and moving to slowly caress up and down Steve-o’s back. Up and down the warmish flesh. A few more beats of silence before Knoxville snorted, his head turning as best it could to place a short kiss on Steve-o’s temple. “I think we both need a shower, cupcake,”
“ Dude, we need a pressure washer,” Steve-o’s lips in a lopsided snarl-tooth grin as he heard Knoxville bark out a short laugh. Shivering as he felt the hands trace up his sides, a low hum sounding from somewhere low in his throat. His brain finally catching up with the pain shooting through his legs at the position they were in, brow furrowing. Stealing his nerves before he focused himself to move, rolling unceremoniously off Knoxville and tumbling onto the mattress below. The sheets tangled around his form as he let out a long whine, stretching out the screaming muscles of his legs. Blinking lazily as he rolled onto his side, still facing the other man who was looking at him with curiosity and a hint of amusement. Steve-o muttered something like ‘shut up’ under his breath, all while he tried to shift himself into a more comfortable position. Hearing Knoxville move, the man grunting as he removed his soiled trousers and boxers, tossing them somewhere away from the bed. And settling back with a tired exhale, the mattress bowing slightly under the weight of both of them lying so close.
Steve-o only half registering as Knoxville’s hand settled on his cheek, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone. Soft chocolate eyes examined the younger man’s face, the distinctive nose bridge; crooked and snapped back into place more than a few times. The split eyebrow that earlier in the evening had trickled blood down his cheek, and at some point had been whipped off and had started to clot over with dried crimson. Neck already spotting with bruises. Pale face now nestled against his own bent-up arm, eyes fluttered mostly shut. Without opening his eyes, Steve-o made a face, scooting in until he was nestled against Knoxville’s side. The older man biting back a smile. All those girls weren’t lying when they said O liked to cuddle after doing the deed.
The both of them settled into a semi-comfortable position, skin still disgustingly sticky and covered in a sheen of dried sweat. It felt as if someone had taken the liberty of pouring a bucket of honey over them, and at this point, Knoxville had accepted the fact he definitely wasn’t going to be able to escape the arms that were locked around his waist and the soft breaths that fanned out over his collarbone. Whatever. It could wait till morning. The man only shifted to pull one of the blankets that had half fallen off the bed up and over them. The fabric worn and smelling vaguely like dust. But it worked nonetheless. Damn. However much of the night they did remember was going to a hell’s worth of explaining to do. The long red marks trailing down his chest and running over his shoulder like some sort of electrical wiring were defiantly not going to fade overnight. Not to mention the new mark littering both their bodies, some could be excused by stunts, sure. But teeth and hickies and sore muscles were hard to explain without one's face going a bit red. God forbid Tremaine made them do some nudity-based bit for the next few weeks. Knoxville would fill the director's house with gorillas so help him. The older man let out a noiseless laugh as he listened carefully to Steve-o's lulled breathing. His hand settled on the curve of the man's waist beneath the blanket. Closing his eyes as he hummed a soft 'goodnight'. The window allowing a soft cool breeze to swirl around the room. Streetlamps buzzing outside. If he didn't get at least one noise complaint from that night, he'd be sure to dedicate his life to whatever deity pulled of that mirical.
Riiinnggggg
Riiiinnnngggggg
Riiinngggg
"What. . . ?"
"PJ? You were meant to be here like an hour ago, where the hell are you?"
". . . "
"Knox, get your ass here soon. Please."
"Fine, I-- "
" 'm tryin' to sleep, duuuddee,"
"Steve-o what ar- ?"
Beeeeeeppppppp