sighed, easing away. "Better than the chocolate," he said, meeting those eyes for just a minute.
He got a half-grin, a nod. "And the chocolate was worth fighting over."
"God, yes." Sonny swayed a little, blinking. "Man, can you get me and my Twinkies to the couch? I'll share." He figured he could share both. Twinkies and couch.
"I imagine I can do that, yeah." MJ chuckled a little, nodded.
"Cool." He grinned, just feeling oozy and loose. "Thanks, by the way. For the groceries."
"Guy's gotta eat." MJ plopped him down, then settled beside him, head bobbing a little.
He put an arm around MJ, pulling him close, letting the Twinkies drop to his lap. He nuzzled into the hollow between MJ's neck and shoulder. "I'm sleepy as fuck. I'm blaming your pills, 'kay?"
"Uh-huh." MJ yawned, long and wide. "Mine's the shots."
"Yeah." Sonny leaned a little harder, just enough that his lips pressed to MJ's skin, his tongue slipping out to taste. "We're a mess."
"Mmmhmm. Nap. Then food. Chocolate's mine though."
"Uh-huh. I bet it would go good with the bananas." His words slurred, MJ's skin tasting so good. Sonny let his eyes close, let his head get heavy, relaxing.
"Mmm. Bananas." MJ started snoring a little, not bad, just enough.
That would do.
He'd settle for a nap now.
Later he'd wheedle more chocolate out of MJ.
Or fuck it out of him. Whatever came first.
Chapter Seven
His ass was asleep.
Not just tingly and hot, but asleep-asleep.
There was also someone on his shoulder, heavy and hot and drooling -- which surprisingly was less gross than he'd thought it would be, but that could be the chocolate talking.
Man, he wished his ass would wake up.
MJ stretched, the tingling in the base of his spine making him shift and squirm. Oh, wow. Sonny's head made a great noise when it slapped against his bare thigh.
Impressive.
Possibly ow, too.
"Jesus fuck!" Sonny exploded into action, leaping up off the couch, then hollering his damned fool head off as he teetered and fell backwards, shaking the entire foundation of the little guest cottage, making the windows rattle.
That? Was pretty fucking cool.
"You okay man?"
Sonny lay flat on his back, arms spread, looking at the ceiling. "Nope. I think I might be permanently damaged. But I can tell you where to ship my remains, Precious."
"Cool." He stretched out on the couch, trying to convince his ass to return to the land of the living.
"What the fuck did you do that for, anyway?" Sonny sounded only vaguely curious, like it was only polite to ask.
"I didn't. I mean, my ass is asleep, so I stretched. The falling was all you."
Man, he bet that bread would be good with that nut-butter-shit.
A positively evil chuckle broke his thoughts as Sonny rolled over, propping up on his elbows. "You want me to wake it up for you? I can, in about a million ways."
"My ass is off-limits, thank you." He stretched one leg up, flexing a little. "I don't play catcher."
"Why not? You've got an ass made for fucking, Precious." Those dark, dark eyes moved up his legs, right to where they joined. And Sonny stared.
"You should talk. You look like you'd be a sweet fuck, honest." Tight and hot and right - yeah, MJ could see it.
"Hell, no. I've never let anyone do that. Why would I start now?" Grinning, Sonny hoisted up on his hands and knees, crawling over until he could use MJ's thighs as leverage to stand. "I'm good with my mouth, though."
"Never, huh? How do you know you wouldn't like it?" Not like he knew, but Sunshine didn't know that.
"Nope. No way. I'm made to be the fucker, not the fuckee." He got a cheerful grin and a fine view of Sonny's chest, belly, and privates, still exposed by askew shorts, before the man grabbed his box of Twinkies and started limping toward the kitchenette.
Now that might be a fun thing... Find a permanent magic marker and write 'fuckee' across Sonny's chest. Yeah. Yeah, he could go there. "You leave my chocolate alone, dude."
"Yeah, yeah. I want some
He got a half-grin, a nod. "And the chocolate was worth fighting over."
"God, yes." Sonny swayed a little, blinking. "Man, can you get me and my Twinkies to the couch? I'll share." He figured he could share both. Twinkies and couch.
"I imagine I can do that, yeah." MJ chuckled a little, nodded.
"Cool." He grinned, just feeling oozy and loose. "Thanks, by the way. For the groceries."
"Guy's gotta eat." MJ plopped him down, then settled beside him, head bobbing a little.
He put an arm around MJ, pulling him close, letting the Twinkies drop to his lap. He nuzzled into the hollow between MJ's neck and shoulder. "I'm sleepy as fuck. I'm blaming your pills, 'kay?"
"Uh-huh." MJ yawned, long and wide. "Mine's the shots."
"Yeah." Sonny leaned a little harder, just enough that his lips pressed to MJ's skin, his tongue slipping out to taste. "We're a mess."
"Mmmhmm. Nap. Then food. Chocolate's mine though."
"Uh-huh. I bet it would go good with the bananas." His words slurred, MJ's skin tasting so good. Sonny let his eyes close, let his head get heavy, relaxing.
"Mmm. Bananas." MJ started snoring a little, not bad, just enough.
That would do.
He'd settle for a nap now.
Later he'd wheedle more chocolate out of MJ.
Or fuck it out of him. Whatever came first.
Chapter Seven
His ass was asleep.
Not just tingly and hot, but asleep-asleep.
There was also someone on his shoulder, heavy and hot and drooling -- which surprisingly was less gross than he'd thought it would be, but that could be the chocolate talking.
Man, he wished his ass would wake up.
MJ stretched, the tingling in the base of his spine making him shift and squirm. Oh, wow. Sonny's head made a great noise when it slapped against his bare thigh.
Impressive.
Possibly ow, too.
"Jesus fuck!" Sonny exploded into action, leaping up off the couch, then hollering his damned fool head off as he teetered and fell backwards, shaking the entire foundation of the little guest cottage, making the windows rattle.
That? Was pretty fucking cool.
"You okay man?"
Sonny lay flat on his back, arms spread, looking at the ceiling. "Nope. I think I might be permanently damaged. But I can tell you where to ship my remains, Precious."
"Cool." He stretched out on the couch, trying to convince his ass to return to the land of the living.
"What the fuck did you do that for, anyway?" Sonny sounded only vaguely curious, like it was only polite to ask.
"I didn't. I mean, my ass is asleep, so I stretched. The falling was all you."
Man, he bet that bread would be good with that nut-butter-shit.
A positively evil chuckle broke his thoughts as Sonny rolled over, propping up on his elbows. "You want me to wake it up for you? I can, in about a million ways."
"My ass is off-limits, thank you." He stretched one leg up, flexing a little. "I don't play catcher."
"Why not? You've got an ass made for fucking, Precious." Those dark, dark eyes moved up his legs, right to where they joined. And Sonny stared.
"You should talk. You look like you'd be a sweet fuck, honest." Tight and hot and right - yeah, MJ could see it.
"Hell, no. I've never let anyone do that. Why would I start now?" Grinning, Sonny hoisted up on his hands and knees, crawling over until he could use MJ's thighs as leverage to stand. "I'm good with my mouth, though."
"Never, huh? How do you know you wouldn't like it?" Not like he knew, but Sunshine didn't know that.
"Nope. No way. I'm made to be the fucker, not the fuckee." He got a cheerful grin and a fine view of Sonny's chest, belly, and privates, still exposed by askew shorts, before the man grabbed his box of Twinkies and started limping toward the kitchenette.
Now that might be a fun thing... Find a permanent magic marker and write 'fuckee' across Sonny's chest. Yeah. Yeah, he could go there. "You leave my chocolate alone, dude."
"Yeah, yeah. I want some
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