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Carlos tips his head against the edge of the jacuzzi, his eyes closed against the late afternoon sun, warm water lapping at his neck. He’d only meant to take a quick soak, something to soothe his muscles after a long day of hiking. But the tub has a certain hypnotic effect— the low rumble of jets are like white noise, lulling him halfway to sleep.
He’d been happy to indulge TK with this vacation after their dud of a honeymoon, which Carlos spent sitting by the pool in monastic silence, pinned by the weight of his recent loss. TK had been patient with him then, for the most part. He tended to Carlos like a wounded bird; bringing him drinks garnished with huge pieces of fruit, poking him occasionally to test his reactions. This was probably all just as much for TK’s entertainment as it was for Carlos’s own good. Still, Carlos felt he owed his husband a do-over.
They picked up a few brochures featuring local attractions in the resort lobby, and have been steadily crossing them off since their arrival: guided tours of ancient ruins, marketplaces where the locals charge exuberantly for woven bracelets and colorful rocks that supposedly possess healing powers. The novelty of it all delights TK, and Carlos has been following his lead— the doting, obedient husband, his fanny pack stuffed with sunscreen and bottled water, haggling with vendors over whatever cheap souvenirs TK points at.
All the while, TK keeps looking at him with that hopeful smile of his, trying to gauge whether Carlos is still having fun. Of course he’s having fun, Carlos tells him— he always has fun with TK. But they could have fun anywhere. They could have fun back home in Austin. Carlos would much rather take advantage of all the things they don’t have at home: breakfast brought right to their door, rose petals on fresh linens he doesn’t have to wash himself, a private patio with a jacuzzi long enough to span the full length of his body. He stretches his legs and lets his feet float to he surface, toes poking out into fresh, cool air. It’s nice enough, he thinks, just to float here. Surrounded by warmth; unburdened by the weight of his body, the sound of his thoughts. It’s almost meditative.
There’s a pat-pat-pat sound— TK wandering noisily out to the patio, his bare feet slapping concrete. His footsteps come to stop in front of Carlos, shadow blocking the sunlight.
Carlos opens one eye. He’s met by TK’s cute little pout, his hands on his hips. He’s wearing nothing but boxers, and Carlos drinks in the sight of his naked torso, tanned skin dotted with moles, a constellation of faded hickeys blooming at his collarbone.
“Babe,” TK says, scolding. He pulls off his boxers and throws them at Carlos. They hit him square in the face, blocking his view of TK’s full nakedness as he sinks into the tub opposite of Carlos. “You cannot seriously be wearing your swimsuit in here,” he says. “It’s bad luck.”
Carlos smiles fondly at the made-up superstition. What a coincidence, that good and bad luck always seem to fall in accordance with TK’s whims. He shuts his eye again. “Good think we bought you that protection crystal,” he comments languidly.
The water sloshes around them as TK gets comfortable. Carlos feels his feet nudging his side. They wiggle against his stomach before moving lower, creeping towards his waistband. It takes a moment for Carlos to realize what he’s trying to do— TK’s toes spread and hook over the front of his trunks, tugging them weakly down his hips.
Carlos smirks. His hands surge, snapping blindly around TK’s feet like the jaws of a shark. The water churns in the struggle, splashing up into the air. TK shrieks in delight.
“Stop,” Carlos tells him, his tone teasing. He manages to wrestle TK’s legs still, and the sound of moving water dissipates, leaving only TK’s laughter and the humming jets.
“Take them off,” TK pants. He gives another kick, but Carlos has him pinned.
“No.”
“Carlos. Take them off.”
Carlos sighs. He lets go of TK’s feet and reaches for his waistband, playing like it’s a terrible inconvenience. He tosses them over the edge of the jacuzzi, where they land next to TK’s with a wet, heavy thud.
“Thank you,” TK chirps, clapping his hands softly. Carlos hums, already settling back into the water and shutting his eyes.
The wiggling resumes almost immediately. Carlos doesn’t even think he can help it— TK’s always bouncing around the loft, climbing all over Carlos like a newborn kitten. He moves his feet over Carlos’s groin and down to his soft cock, kneading the flesh with his toes.
Carlos slaps his hand away. “Don’t be gross.”
“Gross?” TK gasps and draws his feet back. “I’ll have you know I made a fortune off these back in the day.”
“You did not.”
“I did! Once.” TK shrugs— no big deal. He’s got a monolith of stories like this, most finding him in some manner of undress, high off GHB or painkillers and trading cash for favors in the alley behind a nightclub. Carlos might find these horrifying if it weren’t for the blase way TK offers them into conversations, always so charmingly matter-of-fact. “This guy I knew offered me forty bucks.”
Carlos hums. “Cheap.”
TK kicks his leg, launching a huge splash at Carlos’s face.
“Is this why you made me watch From Dusk Till Dawn ?” he jokes, lifting his arm to block the wall of water TK’s assaulting him with. He recalls the lingering shot of Quentin Tarantino’s character taking Salma Hayek’s whole foot in his mouth, like a seagull trying to swallow a whole fish.
“You said you liked it!”
“I like everything you make me watch,” Carlos laughs. It’s only a white lie, and worth it to see the smug look on TK’s face. He adds, “Doesn’t mean you don’t make me.”
TK sticks his tongue out. “Not my fault I have better taste,” he says.
Carlos grabs one of TK’s feet and lifts it out of the water, dragging TK forward with it. He holds it up like a trophy, then licks it from heel to tip. Water drips from TK’s foot down Carlos’s chin. He breathes in the faint, heady scent of chlorine, closing his lips around TK’s last three toes and pulling off with a pop.
TK giggles hysterically. When Carlos let’s his foot go, he snatches it back like he’s afraid he’ll be bitten. He tucks both knees up to his chest, clutching them tightly.
“You were asking for it,” Carlos tells him noncommittally.
TK makes a squishy, grossed-out face. “Bleh. Did it taste gross?”
It didn’t, really. The water in the tub had already rinsed away most of the day’s loose dirt from between his toes. There were notes of sweat, of skin. Carlos realizes he’s not exactly the arbiter of taste, in this department: he does, after all, routinely put his mouth on TK’s asshole. It’s safe to say he’s developed a unique appreciation for his husband’s natural musk.
“Hmm… sort of like—” Carlos smacks his lips together, pretending to search his memory— “Is that a gorgonzola I’m getting?”
“Ew!” TK shrieks. He slaps the surface of the water.
“Maybe an aged camembert?”
“Carlos! Stop!” He sends off another splash, then says, “You’re so weird.”
Carlos lets his head drop back against the rim of the jacuzzi. The water keeps swirling around them. He feels TK moving around again— this time shifting onto all fours. He crawls across the tub to Carlos, knees caging his hips, their foreheads knocking together.
“You’re weird,” TK says again.
“Yeah, you like it.”
“Dream on.”
He kisses Carlos on his open mouth, teeth and tongues scraping, then draws back to add, “You realize you’ve totally disrespected the sanctity of the jacuzzi.”
Carlos pouts against his lips. “I’m sorry, baby. Do you need me to make it better?”
TK nods, his lip pulled tight between his teeth. “Yes, please,” he says. He reaches for Carlos’s hand and draws it out of the water, the cold air stinging. Carlos runs his hand over the peak of TK’s ass, his skin is pebbled with gooseflesh, drops of water clinging to his fine hairs. He tugs TK’s cheeks apart slightly to expose his core to the cold air. TK shivers. His hole flutters against the gentle press of Carlos’s finger.
“How’s this?”
“Keep going,” TK breathes.
He pushes his finger deeper against TK’s hole, and TK takes a shuddering breath as it slips inside. He’s still soft and pliable from this morning, when Carlos fucked him in their king-sized bed, his ass arched high up off the mattress, face buried deep in a feather pillow. “Fuck, you’re still so loose. I bet your poor hole must feel so empty when it’s not getting fucked.”
“God.” TK reaches under the water and takes hold of Carlos’s stiffening cock, pumping it loosely in his fist.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Carlos mumbles. “Get me nice and hard for you, TK. Niiiice and hard so I can fill you back up.”
TK moans. His grip tightens and he begins jerking Carlos faster.
“You like the sound of that, don’t you? You want me to fuck you again, baby?”
The finger in TK’s hole is pumping steadily now, and Carlos nudges at the narrow opening with a second. TK cries out, dropping his head against the edge of the jacuzzi, and Carlos uses his free hand to pull him back upright by his hair.
“Look at me,” he says. And TK does, expression cracked and desperate, his mouth hanging in a lazy smile. “There you are, Cutie,” Carlos says fondly. “How’re you doing?”
“Feels good,” TK pants.
“Yeah? Would you rather I got you off just like this, then?”
TK whines, shaking his head.
“Okay, so what do we say?”
“Please,” TK laughs desperately. He tilts his face into Carlos’s neck, leaving a trail of kisses. “Please, please, please. Please, fuck me, baby. Please— I need your cock. I promise I’ll be good. Please.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Carlos says. He takes his fingers out of TK’s hole and plants a firm slap on his ass, which earns a gasp from TK. “Up.”
TK scrambles off his lap, positioning himself on his knees with his back arched slightly. His hands grip the edge of the jacuzzi with white knuckles.
Carlos gets behind him, landing a few more gentle spanks before spreading his cheeks with his hands. TK’s hole flexes and clenches, eager for more attention.
Carlos lets the saliva gather in his mouth for a moment before letting it fall from his lips and drip over TK’s hole. He rubs it around with his thumb. “God, I love your ass,” he says. “I wish I could keep it full all day long. You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”
“Carlos,” TK gasps. “Yes. Fuck.”
“I know,” Carlos says. “I’ve got you, baby.”
He bends down, holding TK’s ass apart with his hands, fingertips sinking into flesh, and licks a stripe over his wet hole. The water splashes below, lapping at TK’s balls. The swollen pink tip of his cock bobs at the surface. TK moans as Carlos focuses his tongue with quick, firm licks against his trembling hole, lips closed around it. He reaches back to help spread himself, which frees up one of Carlos’s hands. He’s probably hoping for some attention on his cock; hot, angry pink and bloated stiff— Carlos spanks him again instead. TK cries, and his spine arches to an impossible angle. A red handprint appears on his pale skin, and Carlos rubs it gently to stave off the sting.
“What do you think, babe? Think you’re ready to take me?” Carlos asks. It’s mostly rhetorical: he knows TK would take his cock without any prep at all if he let him. As long as Carlos has known him, he’s liked it rough and punishing, bordering on pathological. The power he gives Carlos, to use and abuse him as he pleases, and to put him back together again when he’s finished, is enough to drive a man mad. It used to frighten Carlos, the things he found himself capable of if only TK asked for them.
“Yes,” TK cries. “I’m ready. Please, fuck me.”
“Shh. You’re okay.” Carlos spits again, this time in his own hand, and rubs it over his cock, mixing it with the thick bead of precome that’s gathered at his slit. It’s hardly an effective substitute for lube, but that’s back in their suite, and TK needs it now. He wouldn’t have done this when they first met, but Carlos has learned TK’s body over the years, what he can take, what makes him scream.
He taps the head of his cock against TK’s hole. It makes TK’s breath hitch, another choked please falling from his lips.
“Ready?” Carlos asks. He lines himself up.
“Go.”
Carlos presses forward into the warmth of his hole. What seemed so wide around his fingers grips like a vice around his cock, the pressure hot and intense. They both hiss as Carlos pushes deeper, until he’s fully seated in TK’s ass.
“Am I hurting you?” he pants.
TK shakes his head. “Don’t stop.”
It’s not a no— but Carlos knows TK’s limits as well as his own. He pulls out halfway before thrusting back in with more force than before, and TK makes a sound like his lungs are deflating. His moans continue in soft puffs with every thrust, aimless and eager like a baby’s babbling.
“How’s that? You like that?” Carlos boasts. He keeps thrusting as TK tries to answer, his weak voice strangled by the hum of the jets, the water churning at their hips. Finally, Carlos pulls out so just the head is nestled in TK’s ass, and stops there. “What did you say, babe?”
“Fuck!” TK wails. “I said more! Fuck me hard!”
“What, that’s not hard enough for you?” Carlos teases, slowly continuing his movement in TK. “Your greedy little hole needs more?” He slides one hand up the slick arch of TK’s back, gripping the place where his neck meets his shoulder for leverage, and fucks him hard.
“Fuuuuck,” TK whines. “Yeah, fuck me. Fuck my ass.” He rocks back against Carlos’s thrusts, each one punching more air from his chest; quick, hot breaths in the shapes of words, that die with every nudge of Carlos’s cock against his prostate. “Hit me again.”
Carlos doesn’t like to call it hitting. He’s not a violent person— he’d certainly never hurt TK if he wasn’t literally begging for it, desperate and pleading for a rougher touch. He rears his hand back and spanks TK’s ass, as hard as he can manage from this angle while keeping up his punishing thrusts.
TK screams. “Fuck! Fuck, that’s so good. I fucking love your cock.”
“Yeah, baby? You’re not getting close already, are you?” he asks, slowing his movements to practically nothing.
TK shakes his head. “No! No, I’m good. Please don’t stop.”
“Yeah? You think you can be good for me?”
“I can be good,” TK pants.
“You’re not gonna come until I say?”
He shakes his head again. “Please, Carlos.”
“So sweet,” Carlos croons. He starts thrusting again, deep and slow. “Such a sweet baby. Fuck, you’re so tight.” It feels like TK’s ass is trying to swallow him, the lack of lube making for a rough drag, getting more and more difficult for Carlos to pull out the harder he gets.
TK grins over his shoulder, his wet, pink tongue poking out between teeth. “What happened to me being so loose and greedy? I thought I was your little slut.”
Carlos spanks him. “You are my little slut.”
Another moan pours from TK, and he drops his head between his shoulders.
“You like that, huh? You like it when I call you that? You’re a slut for me, aren’t you?” Again, his thrusts speed up, and TK’s moans become quick and choked.
“Fuck— right there.”
“TK.” Carlos leans forward and flattens their wet backs together. He keeps us his punishing thrusts, fucking up into TK in that ugly, primitive way, like some kind of animal. He puts his lips to TK’s ear and says, “Are you still with me, baby?”
TK replies in a desperate spurt of non-words with Carlos’s name shoved between.
“Do you want to come, TK?”
“Ah— ah— please! Fuck!”
“Good. Touch yourself.”
TK’s breaks his white-knuckle grip on the edge of the jacuzzi. His hand shakes as he lowers it to his cock. “Fuck! Fuck, that’s so good.” His fist pulses over his cock, red tip gleaming between his fingers, faster and faster as his moans grow in volume.
Carlos feels all the sound around them melt away as TK nears his orgasm. He pushes up against TK’s back— better leverage when he’s upright.
“Wait,” TK says.
Carlos pauses halfway inside of him. His grip loosens around TK’s waist, leaving half-moon prints behind. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
TK’s breathing is heavy. “The jets turned off.”
“Oh,” Carlos says. He looks around, sees that the water has gone clear and still. “Did you want them on?”
TK giggles. “It’s really quiet.”
He’s not wrong. As Carlos’s building orgasm ebbs, he realizes that the only sounds around them are their heaving breaths, the occasional slosh of water around their trembling knees. If he really tries, he can hear the ocean far in the distance, crashing waves and crying sea birds. He’d taken the rumble of the jets for granted when he was napping— the silence created in their absence feels too thin, almost porous.
“Do you think anyone can hear us?” TK asks.
“If they couldn’t before, they’ll probably be able to now,” Carlos says. He glances at the concrete walls that surround their patio, tangled with vines. He cranes his neck, although he can’t see over— there’s no way of telling if their neighbors are outside. He can’t hear any other jacuzzi’s running. “Should I turn them back on?”
He starts to pull out, but TK sticks his hand out to stop him.
“No. Let’s just… Let’s just keep going.”
Carlos frowns. “Really?”
“Yeah,” TK says. “It could be fun, right? Kinda naughty.”
Once again, he’s not wrong. When they first started hooking up and couldn’t keep their hands off each other, they often found themselves crammed in bathroom stalls or the backseat of the Camaro, the fog in the windows their only cover. They weren’t much younger, but the newness of it all made them reckless. It’s been a while since they’ve done anything like that.
“Do you think you can be quiet?” he asks TK.
“No,” TK admits, laughing. “Can you?”
Carlos grins. He loops his arms around TK’s broad midsection and draws him up to his knees, hugging him close. TK rests his weight against Carlos’s chest, and Carlos leans down to his ear and says, “Don’t worry about me.”
He thrusts slowly into TK, and the sound of water around them is shocking.
TK keeps his noises reduced to soft, withdrawn pants. Carlos moves his hand from TK’s waist to his jaw, tilting his head back to expose the full length of his neck, his Adam’s apple jumping.
“Go on,” Carlos whispers against his ear. “Let them hear you, baby.”
“Carlos.”
“Let everybody hear how much you love my cock.”
“Fuck— Carlos!”
Carlos starts stroking TK’s cock in time with his thrusts, wrenching his fist over the leaking head. A stretchy drop of precome lands on the surface of the water, made rough by their movement. Waves crash against their bodies and spill onto the concrete patio.
Carlos’s hips pick up speed as his hand does, fucking into TK at a brutal pace. TK’s moans are becoming less controlled, as though Carlos is beating them out of him with every rough stab of his cock into his prostate.
“Yeah. Yeah, I got you baby,” Carlos says. The hand around TK’s jaw drops to his neck, holding it firmly. “Go on and come for me. Let everybody hear you come on my cock.”
TK sobs. His head is still pinned to Carlos’s shoulder, and his desperate, rhythmic cries shoot straight to the heavens, clearing the walls around their patio in a single, breathless leap. “Fuck!” TK exhales. “Fuck! Fuck! I’m coming!”
Carlos strokes him roughly through his orgasm, as white ropes of come shoot from his cock into water below. “There you go, TK,” he murmurs, “let it all out for me. Fuck, that’s good.” TK cries out incoherently, his whole body trembling in Carlos’s arms. Carlos takes his weight on easily. He keeps stroking his cock until TK’s moans take on a pained quality, like an animal caught in a trap.
He lets TK’s body fall forward against the edge of the jacuzzi, his weight now balanced on shaking arms. Carlos holds his hips for balance and keeps fucking him, the edge of his orgasm fast approaching. “Fuck, baby. Yeah, squeeze that tight little ass around my cock.”
TK’s keeps up those adorably gimpy moans. His muscles are loose against the force of Carlos maneuvering his hips forward and back, skewered on his cock. He’s completely fucked out of all sense, nothing left behind in his body but the bliss of being used for Carlos’s pleasure.
“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Carlos grunts. “Where do you want it baby? Should I fill your ass with my come?”
TK whispers something unintelligible, vaguely resembling the word please, in between his ragged cries. “Please,” he tries again weakly. “Come inside me.”
“Good,” Carlos says. “Good. Fuck.”
He’s so close to the edge, he can feel balls throbbing, tightening with every thrust. He brings his open palm down against TK’s ass— not as hard as before, just enough to sting. TK’s hole clenches around him as he hisses in pain, and the tightness seizes Carlos, constricting around his cock and wringing pleasure from him. Carlos groans— come surges from his cock, filling TK’s hole.
“Fuck,” Carlos sighs. He removes his cock slowly from TK’s ass and holds his cheeks apart, admiring the way his come leaks from TK’s swollen pink hole, dripping down towards the water. “That’s it, push it all out.” He keeps rubbing the flesh of TK’s ass as more come drips out of him and his breathing evens out.
Carlos lowers TK into the hot water. TK clings to him, soft and sleepy, his head nestling against Carlos’s chest. He sighs dreamily.
“That good, huh?” Carlos teases.
TK giggles. His eyes stay shut.
“Oh, now you’re ready for a nap, is that it?”
TK hums. “Yeah, you tired me out pretty good, mister.”
Carlos chuckles, lifting his hand to stroke TK’s damp hair. TK practically purrs.
“You’re so spoiled, you know that?”
“You love spoiling me,” TK pouts.
“I never said it was a bad thing.” It’s true, Carlos does love spoiling TK— with sex, with vacations, with tacky souveniers and the scalp scratches that melt him to goo. A stronger man would put his foot down, eventually— but all the strength Carlos has, he learned from TK, who conveniently left that part out of his teachings. “We really should get up, though.”
TK whines. “But I’m so warm.”
“Babe. You realize we’re basically bathing in our own ejaculate right now.”
“Hot,” TK says. He lifts his foot out of the water and flicks his toe at the control panel on the side of the jacuzzi. “Turn the jets on.”
Carlos does.