Joey spread Justin open with both hands, his thumbs sinking into his cheeks, eyes locked on the slick, pink lips that twitched with every breath. He kissed it again, long, slow, tongue flat and reverent. Justin’s thighs trembled.
His mouth moved with growing certainty now, tongue dragging slow figure-eights around the rim, then dipping in, deeper each time, like he was learning a language written in muscle and slick. He kissed it, sucked softly, tongue pushing into the give of him, tasting salt and sweat and the ghost of oil. Every breath was soaked in it.
Justin moaned low, pressing back into him, his elbows firm on the mattress, hips tipped to give Joey better access. He reached behind himself, fingers sliding through Joey’s hair, guiding him gently, not to control, just to anchor. Joey groaned into the heat of him, tongue working deeper now, licking like he needed it, like nothing else mattered.
His hands slid to Justin’s hips, pulling him tighter against his mouth. His nose pressed into the cleft, lips sealed around that soft, trembling ring, tongue flicking, circling, teasing. The sounds were wet, shameless—Joey moaning, Justin breathing sharp and fast, the mattress creaking beneath their rhythm.
“Joey…” Justin’s voice cracked, soft and wrecked. “Fuck, bro.”
Joey didn’t answer. Just slid one hand between Justin’s thighs, fingers searching, slick with spit, pressing in slow alongside his tongue. One knuckle, then two. Justin opened around him like he’d been waiting for it, like his body already knew how to take it.
“Yeah,” Joey muttered against his pussy. “You’re so fucking ready.”
He licked again, slower now, tongue flattening over the twitching center before circling tighter, more focused, like he was zeroing in on something holy. His fingers slid deeper—slick, steady, patient—and this time he curled them just slightly, testing pressure, searching the angle like instinct might tell him what to do.
Justin jerked, breath catching, a low sound dragged from his throat like surprise and surrender braided together.
Joey froze.
Then did it again, curled his fingers in just that way, stroked once, twice.
Justin’s whole body shivered, his hips twitching down toward Joey’s mouth, his breath coming faster now, shallow and broken. His thighs clenched around Joey’s head, not to push away, but to hold him in place.
Joey’s eyes widened, his cock throbbing hard against his stomach. “That’s it,” he murmured into Justin’s pussy, his voice almost reverent. “That’s your spot, huh?”
He pressed again, fingers curled, tongue working slow and wet around the opening. Justin moaned outright, long and low, his arms shaking where they held him up.
Joey’s other hand slid upward, over the swell of Justin’s lower back, then under the crop top, warm palm settling flat. He could feel every tremble, every stutter of muscle, the way Justin’s core tensed and softened with each stroke inside.
“Jesus,” Joey whispered, more to himself than to Justin. “I can feel it… right there. It’s like a button.”
He curled again, firmer this time, watching the way Justin’s hips rocked forward without thinking, how his breath hitched hard and fast. Joey’s fingers moved slower now, rhythmic, deliberate, his mouth never leaving that soaked, twitching ring.
Justin’s voice broke. “Joey—fuck—don’t stop.”
“I’m not,” Joey said, voice husky, almost dazed. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He was fascinated. It felt different than anything he’d done before, not just the physical mechanics, but the way Justin opened around him, the way his body told Joey exactly what it needed without words. He wanted to give it. All of it. Again and again.
His fingers worked deeper, more confident now, rhythm syncing with the movement of his mouth, tongue lapping, lips sealing, the slick drag of breath and heat anchoring them both.
Justin was shaking above him. His thighs trembled, arms flexed, chest heaving under the damp cling of the crop top.
Joey pulled back just enough to say it.
“I think you’re gonna come just from this.”
Justin’s voice was ragged, barely there. “I am.”
Joey groaned. “Holy fuck.”
And then he pulled his fingers almost all the way out, teasing slow over the rim, then back in with a firm, perfect curl. Justin choked on a moan and dropped lower, hips grinding down against Joey’s mouth.
Joey licked up into him with heat and hunger, his free hand squeezing Justin’s ass, holding him steady as he worked his mouth and fingers in tandem, every movement aimed at that same spot—his prostate—his pussy’s secret button.
Justin was riding it now, grinding slow and helpless, the sounds falling out of him raw and unguarded.
“Come here,” Joey rasped, voice soaked in want. “Sit on my face.”
Justin didn’t even answer. Just shifted forward, thighs shaking, planting his knees on either side of Joey’s head as he sank down, slow, full, intimate, onto Joey’s mouth.
Joey groaned like it was everything he’d ever wanted.
And as Justin rocked above him, panting, flushed, his slick thighs bracketing Joey’s face, he leaned forward, slow and deliberate, and kissed the flushed, leaking head of Joey’s cock.
Once.
Twice.
Then let his lips part, tongue flicking the slit. Their whole world tightened down to that moment: Justin’s pussy on Joey’s mouth, Joey’s cock kissed like it was sacred.
Joey could feel it, that edge Justin was riding. His thighs clamped tight around Joey’s head, not to stop him, but like his body couldn’t decide if it needed more or needed to run from how much it felt.
Joey didn’t ease up. His fingers stayed deep, curled just right, working the swollen spot he’d found. Each stroke was slow and sure, rubbing up into it with the kind of care that bordered on obsessive. His mouth stayed open, tongue lapping at Justin’s pussy like it was the first and last time he’d ever get to taste it. Like it was feeding him.
Justin was panting now, a soft whimper in his throat every time Joey’s fingers pressed up into that perfect, hidden center. His hips rolled down, helpless, chasing the rhythm, grinding into Joey’s face like it was instinct. He wasn’t stroking his cock. He didn’t need to.
Joey groaned into him, the sound vibrating against Justin’s hole, deep and wet and steady. His fingers worked in slow circles, pulsing pressure against the prostate, feeling how it responded—how it swelled, tightened, begged. He reached his other hand up blindly, found Justin’s hip, then slid it up his belly, under the crop top again, until it found one of his nipples.
He pinched. Gently.
Justin gasped, his whole body tensing.
Joey pulled his mouth back just long enough to whisper, voice wrecked and wild:
“You’re gonna come just from your pussy, aren’t you?”
Justin’s mouth was open, eyes half-lidded, his whole body trembling. “Joey—fuck—I think—”
Joey shoved his face back in, groaning, tongue working fast and deep now, fingers relentless.
“Come for me,” he breathed against Justin’s hole. “Come just from this. You don’t even need your dick, baby. You’ve got a real pussy now.”
That pushed Justin over.
His whole body locked, spine arching, thighs clenching, hands gripping the headboard hard enough to shake it. A broken sound ripped out of his throat, somewhere between a moan and a sob, as his pussy spasmed around Joey’s fingers, pulsing hard, tight, endless.
Joey didn’t stop. He worked Justin through it, holding him firm, letting him ride it out, mouth still licking soft, slow, wet kisses across that twitching, oversensitive rim.
Justin was shaking above him, his head dropped forward, sweat dripping from his temple, every muscle in his body trembling with release.
Joey finally pulled back, just slightly, breath ragged, lips swollen, spit shining on his chin. He looked up.
Justin was still panting, flushed and ruined, his thighs quivering where they straddled Joey’s chest. Joey licked his lips. Smiled, dazed and proud.
“Holy shit,” he said. “You came.”
Justin blinked down at him, eyes glassy. “Fuck, man, I came so hard…”
Joey’s voice was low, full of heat and awe. “I felt it. I felt your pussy clench around my fingers. It was—fuck, Justin, it was beautiful.”
Justin let out a laugh, small, breathless. He leaned forward, still straddling Joey’s chest, and kissed him, wet and messy, full of I can’t believe you just did that to me.
Then, without a word, Justin shifted downward, slow, controlled, until his mouth hovered over Joey’s cock. It was flushed, leaking, slick with need. He licked a drop of precum from the tip, slow and lazy, then dragged his tongue along the underside, tasting the salt of skin and sweat.
Joey groaned, body jolting under the touch. “Fuck…”
Justin didn’t go deep. Didn’t need to. He licked Joey’s cock like it was something sweet, something earned. He kissed along the shaft, then lapped at the head again, swirling his tongue around it with reverence. His hands were gentle on Joey’s thighs, his mouth soft and warm.
Joey watched him, eyes blown wide, chest still rising and falling. “You’re unbelievable,” he murmured.
Justin looked up, his lips just brushing the tip. “Had to taste you. After that? After what you did to me?”
He kissed Joey’s cock again, slow and open-mouthed, like it was an offering.
Joey’s hand reached down, threading gently into Justin’s hair.
“Fuck, baby,” he whispered. “I love your mouth. I love your pussy. I love—”
He cut himself off. Not because it wasn’t true. But because it might’ve been too true.
Justin just smiled against the head of his cock, then gave one last soft kiss, lips resting there for a moment longer than necessary. Like a seal. Like a promise.
Then he sank lower again, slow and smooth, tongue gliding down the length, licking up every trace of salt and slick. He wrapped one hand around the base, steadying it, his grip warm and sure. His mouth opened and he took the head back in, soft lips sealing, cheeks hollowing with the first slow suck.
Joey’s whole body tensed.
He’d been holding back this whole time, focused on Justin, lost in his body, wrapped up in giving. Now it hit him all at once: how long he’d been on edge, how much he needed this. His hand slid into Justin’s buzzed hair, holding on—not guiding, not controlling, just needing something to grip.
Justin took him deeper. Not all the way. Just enough. Just right. He sucked slow, rhythmic, his tongue working the underside, his hand stroking the base in time. Every few seconds, he’d pull back to kiss the tip, lick along the slit, then sink back down with a soft hum in his throat that vibrated through Joey’s spine.
Joey groaned, deep and wrecked. “You’re gonna make me come, baby…”
Justin moaned around him, nodded as best he could, then doubled down, mouth tighter, rhythm steadier, his other hand sliding to Joey’s hip to keep him grounded. He wasn’t in a rush. He was savoring him.
Joey’s thighs started to shake. His abs clenched tight. “Fuck—fuck—I’m close—”
Justin didn’t let up. Just sucked harder, tongue swirling, hand pumping, mouth warm and wet and perfect.
And then Joey came. Hard.
His whole body arched, a raw groan ripping from his throat as his cock pulsed in Justin’s mouth. Justin took it, lips sealed tight, swallowing around the first hot spurt, then the next, his hand still stroking slow through the aftershocks. He moaned as he swallowed, like he liked the taste, like he wanted to keep it.
Joey collapsed back against the bed, eyes wide, chest heaving, one hand limp in Justin’s hair, the other fisted in the sheets.
Justin pulled off slow, licking his lips, then kissed the softening head one last time, lips still wet.
“Goddamn,” Joey muttered, breathless. “You swallowed all of it.”
Justin looked up, still crouched between Joey’s legs, smiling with quiet satisfaction. “I told you. Had to taste you.”
Joey reached for him, pulled him up by the waist, until they were tangled chest to chest, sweat and spit and cum and oil between them.
They didn’t speak for a moment. And then Joey said it softly:
“You’re my girl.”
Justin kissed his jaw, his neck, his mouth. But even as Justin settled against him, Joey couldn’t stop. His hands roamed instinctively, greedy and slow, sliding down Justin’s back, over the crop top, then gripping the curve of his ass like it was the only thing that could ground him.
And fuck, he was still hard. Already.
His cock pressed up between them, hot and slick against Justin’s belly, twitching like it hadn’t just emptied moments ago.
“Shit,” Joey murmured, half-laughing, half-desperate. “I’m… still so fucking hard.”
Joey’s cock pressed hard between them, leaking again already, insistent and aching where it throbbed against Justin’s belly. His hands gripped Justin’s ass like it was the only thing holding him to earth, thumbs spreading the cheeks wide just to feel that slick warmth again.
Justin rolled his hips once, just enough for the tip to slip between the soft cleft, catch at the still-damp stretch of lace.
Joey groaned into his throat. “Fuck. I need to be inside you.”
Justin didn’t move for a moment. Just looked down at him. Open. Steady. Waiting.
Then he reached behind, fingers curling around Joey’s cock, thick and wet and twitching in his hand. He gave it a stroke, slow and firm, spreading the mess of spit and precum over the head, then a healthy squirt of lube from the nightstand, greasing up Joey’s massive boner until it shined.
Then he tugged his thong aside, pulled it to the side so tight it dug into his hip. He angled Joey down, pressing the fat head right to his hole.
“Then do it,” Justin said, barely above a whisper.
Joey froze. He didn’t breathe. Couldn’t. This was it. The moment. His heart slammed against his ribs like it wanted out. He looked down—watched the fat head of his cock press into Justin’s hole, saw the way it gave, then fought back, then twitched again, like it was asking for him.
Justin felt it too. The push. The resistance. His breath hit hard. He could feel his own heartbeat in his hole, tight and hot and shaking. He braced one hand on Joey’s chest, the other on his own thigh. He rocked his hips back, slow, steady, and the head pushed in.
Justin gasped. It wasn’t pain. it was pressure, burn, stretch.
Joey’s jaw dropped. “Oh my god—”
Justin moaned low, deep in his chest, head tipped back as he sank down, inch by inch, his body opening around Joey’s cock, tight and hot and right.
It felt like getting split open. Like his whole body had to adjust to this new shape inside him. Joey’s cock was so thick, it made everything else feel far away. He took it slow. Had to. His hole squeezed and twitched around the shaft, nerves lighting up, brain short-circuiting.
Another inch.
The ridge slid past, thick and swollen. Justin hissed through his teeth, breath catching, thighs starting to shake. He could feel how wet he was, dripping down his thighs, making it easier, but not easy.
He looked down, met Joey’s eyes. “I’m okay,” he whispered. “Don’t stop.”
Joey couldn’t have moved if he tried. He was frozen, overwhelmed, his cock pulsing like it couldn’t believe what was happening. Joey’s hands flew to Justin’s hips, holding him steady, not stopping him, just needing to touch, to anchor, to feel every second of it.
Justin pushed again. Slow, slower. His pussy opened around it, pulled it deeper. The stretch never stopped—just grew.
He let out a ragged moan. “Fffuck… I feel it everywhere.”
The base finally hit him. Heavy balls pressed to the curve of his ass. Justin was full. Stuffed. His thighs dropped open wide. His whole weight settled down, ass pressed flush against Joey’s lap.
He was in. All of him.
Joey let out a sound he didn’t recognize. Not a moan, not a gasp, something in between. His eyes were wild, his body locked. His cock twitched deep inside Justin. He looked up at him like he was seeing god.
Justin’s hands went to Joey’s chest, fingers curling in the sweat-slick skin.
“You’re really letting me,” Joey whispered. “I’m inside you. I’m… fucking inside you.”
“Yeah,” Justin whispered. “You’re inside me. You’re fucking in me, Joey.”
And for a second, nothing moved. Just heat. Breath. A cock buried to the root inside a pussy made to take it.
Justin clenched once, hard. Joey moaned, sharp and deep, like it hit something in his chest. Justin smiled.
“Told you,” he murmured. “Your cock needs a special kind of pussy.”
Joey moaned into his mouth, hips twitching, barely able to keep still. His breath caught like it didn’t know how to leave his chest. “No one’s ever—fuck–”
“You fit perfectly.”
Joey groaned, helpless, high, overwhelmed. His hands gripped Justin’s hips.
“Move for me,” he said. “Please, baby.”
Justin rocked, just once. A long, slow glide upward, then back down, the tight heat of him wrapping Joey like silk and fire. Joey choked on a groan, his fingers digging into Justin’s hips, his head pressed hard into the mattress.
“You feel insane,” he gasped. “You’re so… fuck, Justin, you’re perfect.”
Justin rolled his hips again, deeper this time. A grind. A fuck.
Joey’s hands slid back to Justin’s ass, spreading him open, watching his cock disappear and reappear in slow, slick strokes.
“You’re my girl,” Joey moaned, eyes wild. “You’re my pussy. My perfect fucking girl.”
Justin didn’t correct him. Didn’t tease. He just moved, slow and steady, up and down, taking all of Joey, milking him, using his body like it was built for this.
Joey gave in. Let himself be fucked. Let himself fuck, hands locked on Justin, mouth open, cock deep inside the tightest, softest heat he’d ever imagined.
“I can feel it,” Joey gasped. “Every time you drop—it’s like—you’re fucking milking me.”
Justin smiled, just a little. “You like that?”
Joey nodded, barely able to speak.
Justin slammed down again, full weight behind it, letting Joey’s cock bottom out inside him, snug and perfect, heat clenching around him like it didn’t want to let go.
Joey looked up at him, breath caught in his throat. “You feel amazing. I don’t want to move. I just want to stay here.”
Justin smiled, small, quiet, real. He shifted his hips, slow and deep, and Joey groaned again, helpless under him.
Joey let his hands slide down, palms warm over the curve of Justin’s ass, gripping softly as Justin started to move with more confidence, up and down, just enough to keep Joey’s cock sliding in and out of that perfect, slick heat.
Joey’s voice broke slightly. “I’m so close.”
Justin leaned in. “Then come.”
Joey’s fingers clenched, his hips twitching up once, twice and then he came, deep inside Justin, jaw slack, breath leaving him in short, quiet bursts.
Justin stayed with him, moving through it, still taking him, still steady, still there. When Joey came down, blinking at the ceiling, Justin was still on top of him, warm and solid, his thighs bracketing Joey’s hips.
Joey’s hands slid up his back. “You really took it. All of it.”
Justin’s voice was soft. “Of course I did.”
Joey lay there, still inside him, still hard somehow, his hands soft on Justin’s hips, thumbs brushing where their skin met. His breath was starting to slow, but something in him was still racing.
He’d come before, so many times. In Justin’s mouth. On his stomach. Across his chest, in the thick of his pecs, once on that stupid red thong. Justin had swallowed it, let it drip down his chin, rubbed it in like it was lotion. He’d asked for it. Wanted it.
But this was different.
Joey was inside him. Buried, deep, cock still pulsing in the soft heat of Justin’s body. And Justin had just taken it—quiet, sure, without flinching. Letting it fill him.
Joey swallowed, his throat dry. He could feel it, the afterglow, the warm spill of his own sperm, sealed inside Justin’s body. The way the muscle around him still fluttered every so often, like it didn’t want to let him go.
He shifted slightly, just enough to feel the way his cock slid inside the slickness, the softness that was all Justin now. The way Justin held him like he was meant to stay there.
Joey’s voice, when it came, was low and dazed.
“You’ve got my cum inside you.”
Justin shifted above him, leaned down until their noses touched.
“I know,” he said. “Feels good.”
Joey blinked up at him. “You really mean that?”
Justin kissed him, soft and sure.
“Yeah. I want it. All of it.”
Joey’s heart kicked hard in his chest. Joey looked down at the pouch of Justin’s thong, where a dark spot was growing. Justin had come again too, his juice filling up in his pouch.
He couldn’t believe he made Justin come twice just from his hole…his pussy. Joey’s cock, somehow, still buried deep, twitched again.
They lay still for a long while, tangled and slick, breathing together in the quiet dark. Joey softened slowly inside him, but neither of them moved.
It was Joey who finally shifted, brushed a hand over Justin’s back, and said, “Let’s go.”
Justin hummed in response, just a low, content sound in his throat, but nodded.
They moved slowly, like their bodies were made of something softer now. Joey gathered the towel and turned on the water. As the bathroom filled with steam, Justin peeled off his crop top and dropped it to the floor. He didn’t touch the thong.
Joey noticed, but didn’t say anything. He just watched the way it clung, wet, slightly twisted, the red now darker with water and cum. A little ridiculous. Stupid hot.
Justin stepped into the shower first, quiet, the spray hissing hot across his shoulders. He leaned forward, hands on the tile, letting the heat roll over him.
Joey stepped in behind him, close but not crowding. He lathered soap into his hands and touched Justin’s back, slow and certain.
He washed him carefully, shoulders, spine, arms. He worked in silence, fingers firm but gentle, catching the places where sweat and oil had dried, where touch had left marks. He took his time. Justin didn’t speak. Just leaned into the water, body loose, like the heat and the hands on him were the only things holding him upright.
When Joey reached his lower back, he paused, soaped up again, and let his hands skim just under the band of the thong. He leaned in. Kissed the back of his neck.
“You kept it on,” he murmured.
Justin didn’t look back, but his voice floated out, hoarse but dry: “Guess I’m sentimental now.”
Joey smiled. “You’re something.”
He dropped to a crouch, water beading down his back, and eased the thong aside. Justin adjusted without a word, bracing one arm against the tile. His thighs shifted slightly giving access.
He kept one hand on Justin’s hip and turned the spray gently toward him. Warm water trickled down. He used his fingers to guide it, careful and slow. Then soap. Then his hand, flat, gentle, moving in soft circles, cleaning where he’d penetrated him, where Justin had opened up for him.
Justin let out a breath, not quite a moan, but not far off.
“You okay?” Joey asked quietly.
“Mmhmm.”
Joey rinsed the soap away, water running clean now, and eased the thong gently back into place. He kissed the small of Justin’s back, stood, and pulled him into his arms under the water.
Justin sagged against him, head tilted, resting on Joey’s shoulder. His hands hung loose at his sides.
“Damn,” he said eventually, eyes still closed. “What did you do to me?”
Joey smiled against his wet temple. “I think I just… made you come real hard.”
“No shit,” Justin mumbled.
They stayed like that while the water ran hot around them. Eventually, the water started to cool.
Joey reached around and shut it off, the rush fading into a quieter drip of steam and breath. Justin still hadn’t moved much, just blinked at the wall like he was watching something far off. His body, usually so quick to tighten or pose or flex, hung loose and warm in Joey’s arms.
Joey kissed his temple, then reached for a towel.
He dried Justin first. Towel around his shoulders, slow sweeps down his chest, over his back, down his legs. Justin didn’t resist, just lifted his arms when prompted, let Joey pat down the insides of his thighs with careful pressure. He didn’t say much, but his eyes tracked Joey the whole time, a soft kind of curiosity flickering beneath the haze.
When Joey stood to dry himself, Justin finally spoke.
“You’re really taking your time.”
Joey glanced over, toweling off his chest. “You saying you don’t like it?”
Justin shrugged. “Didn’t say that.”
His voice still sounded soft, stretched thin with come-down, but a glint was returning to it.
They made their way back to the bedroom in towels. The sheets were a mess, twisted, damp. Joey peeled them back, tossing them in a lazy heap toward the floor, and dropped a fresh towel over the mattress. Justin climbed onto it without being asked, still in the red thong, his hair damp, skin flushed.
He sprawled face-first, arms under the pillow, one cheek pressed sideways, looking up at Joey with half-lidded eyes.
“You gonna tuck me in?” he murmured.
Joey laughed and crawled into bed beside him, settling close. He ran a hand down Justin’s spine, thumb brushing the band of the thong where it rode low on his hips.
Justin sighed into the pillow. “Might never take this off, you know.”
“I’m not complaining.”
Justin looked over at him, eyes narrow but playful. “You love it.”
Joey didn’t argue. He slid closer, one leg draped over Justin’s, his hand resting on that still-slick stretch of fabric.
“I love you in it,” he said, quiet.
Justin didn’t joke at that. Just watched him for a beat. Then his expression softened, melted into something that looked suspiciously like affection.
“You’re being sweet,” he said. “It’s weird.”
Joey rolled his eyes. “You want me to stop?”
Justin smiled into the pillow. “Nope.”
And for the first time all night, Joey felt like he was the one holding them both together, one hand on Justin’s hip, the other stroking lazy circles between his shoulder blades.
Justin, half-naked and blissed out, let himself be held. And Joey, hard again, a little stunned, totally calm, held him. They stayed tangled like that for a while, bodies cooling in the low light, the occasional drip of water off Joey’s hair landing soft on the towel beneath them.
Justin had gone quiet again, not out of distance, but satisfaction. His breath was steady. His back rose and fell under Joey’s hand. Then, out of nowhere, Joey said it—half a thought, half a smile.
“You’re like… a muscle princess.”
Justin blinked. Turned his head a little, just enough to meet Joey’s eyes. “Oh yeah?”
Joey flushed a little, but didn’t backpedal. “I mean look at you. All soft and pretty and satisfied, laid out in a thong with your ass in the air, letting me take care of you. But also, like—still jacked.”
Justin narrowed his eyes, mock-offended. “Are you calling me a himbo?”
Joey grinned. “No. I’m calling you royalty.”
Justin let that sit for a second. Then he made a little noise—almost a scoff, but pleased. He turned his face back into the pillow and mumbled, “Muscle princess, huh.”
Joey traced the line of his spine with one finger. “Yeah. Like… powerful. Beautiful. Top tier pussy. And still in control.”
Justin shifted a little, enough to flex one cheek under Joey’s hand. “I’m letting you have that one.”
“Generous.”
“Princess.”
Joey laughed against his back. Justin smiled.
“What does that make you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah if I’m a muscle princess then what are you? A penis prince?”
Joey laughed. “Shut up.”
“You are,” Justin said. “You’re a big dumb penis prince.”
They both laughed out loud because it was so stupid, but also so stupid hot.
