Cooper tripped into my apartment as soon as I opened the door. I couldn't stop laughing long enough to work the key out of the lock, so he had to crawl back and help me.
"I am shitfaced," I confessed, feeling the world turn a little.
"Me too," Cooper sang, stumbling backward to let me shut the door behind us. He took a big breath and sang even louder, "Me tooooo, I am shitfaced!"
"Shut up; my fucking neighbors!" I hushed him. I was going to need to throw up again soon.
"I'll fuck your neighbors," Cooper snickered. My friend wandered to the fridge, poking through the old takeout containers before finding a couple bottles of Gatorade. He tossed one at me and then cracked his open. "It's got electrolytes," he said in his best Idiocracy voice. “Damn, if I’d known I’d be this fucked up I’d have packed some of Sierra’s little Pediasures. Can I get some delivered?”
That reminded me that I still had puke on my shirt. "I gotta shower," I declared, dropping all the shit in my hands so I could pull my coat off. The floor tilted like a ship deck in a storm, but I made it all the way to the bathroom without falling over. No use in taking all my clothes off since they needed to be washed, too. The water pounding on my skull felt so good after the club. I was getting too old for all the sweat and fog machines and strobe lights. Ah, fuck, I was going to be that creepy old guy in the club. If Avery hadn't gotten a job in Seattle, we could have been the creepy old couple in the club. But no.
"Marshall! Marsh! What are you doing?" Cooper barged into the bathroom without knocking.
"Showering, dumbass."
"With all your clothes on?"
I groaned. Cooper liked to pretend that he could handle his liquor better than I. Back when we were roommates he'd always go into concerned dad mode until I was taken care of, at least until he'd get drunk enough to go fucking nuts. The last part was fun, but getting there could be annoying.
“Take them off. You're not going to get them clean in the shower.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled. I could have said more, but I barfed instead. I hated vomiting. I knew I'd feel better afterward, but the process sucked.
Cooper rummaged around in the cabinet by the sink. “I got you,” he said, opening the shower door to shove my toothbrush and toothpaste in my hands. “Gimme your clothes.”
“They're puke-y.”
He folded his arms. “I have a two-year-old, Marshall. Nothing scares me anymore.” The Dad effect was slightly ruined by his slurring, but I pulled my shirt off and tossed it over the shower door. Cooper wrung it out in the sink and waited for my jeans. Those took a little longer to get off; they kept getting stuck around my ankles. When I handed the soggy pants to him Cooper just stood there. I made a whirling motion with my finger.
Cooper cocked his head impatiently. “What?”
“Turn around so I can give you my underwear.”
“The towel is in the way,” he retorted, waving at the one draped over the bar on the shower door.
“Turn around,” I insisted.
“Ugh, fine.”
My briefs hit him in the back of the head with a wet slap, and I almost fell over I was laughing so hard.
“You fucking turd!” Cooper exclaimed.
“Right on the man bun!” I swiped at my washcloth and soap. “I have never been proudener of myself,” I declared, squinting to help my hands bring the two items in my hands together. “More proud. Prouder.”
"Hurry up so I can do that, too," Cooper ordered. "I'll put these in the washer."
"Thanks, man." Once he was out of the bathroom I finished showering. God, it felt good to not smell like smoke and puke and other people’s sweat. I grabbed the pair of sweatpants I'd left on the floor that morning, skipping the shirt and underwear when I couldn't find anything clean.
Cooper was way faster than I—maybe he really was more sober—and I was still looking for my phone charger when I heard the water shut off. He even had a lowball of bourbon in his hand when I made it back to the kitchen. Good. Maybe he’d move past Drunk Dad mode.
“Want one?” he asked. I shook my head. Cooper shrugged. “Mas para mi.”
I flopped onto the couch. “Dude, I still can’t believe you almost got into a fight.”
My friend grinned. “Even if I get my ass beat, there’s nothing like being the hero for a lady.” He’d always been the first guy to tell an asshole to knock it off; it wasn’t the first time he’d pissed off a stranger.
“She did not fucking care.”
He rolled his eyes upward. “I wanted to get with her hot friend.”
I snorted at that. “We could all tell.”
Cooper’s tone turned into a whine. “Even in the middle of the custody bullshit Nicole and I were having sex. We’d get out of mediation and go fuck in a bathroom. Now I’m all stopped up. I have clinical sex-blockage.”
“That’s not a thing, Coop.”
Cooper strode over to fling open the balcony door. "I need some pussy! Pussy!" he shouted into the night.
"You're going to get me evicted," I complained, pushing myself off the couch to pull Cooper away from the door. He tried to fight me off, singing to the open door about how horny he was. I finally wrapped my arms around his waist and yanked him up. Cooper’s long wet hair slapped me in the face. I turned us around and lost my balance at the same time, so it was pure luck that we landed on the couch instead of my coffee table. The bourbon we spilled would have to get cleaned up in the morning.
“Quit spooning me! I need to find a hole! I got a load to dump!” Cooper complained. “Be a good bro.”
That made me snort. “Where are you going to find a woman who’s willing to fuck your drunk ass at this time?” I let go, but my friend didn't sit up. Instead, Cooper looked over his shoulder and blew a raspberry right in my face.
“That got up my nose!” I yelled, shoving him off the couch.
Laughing, Cooper climbed on top of me and tried to push me onto the floor. I put up a fight, but all that happened was that Cooper ended up straddling my legs while I pushed his head. Whatever either of us had been trying to do, it failed.
"Dude, hey, you should just let me fuck you."
"Fuck off," I chuckled.
"But I'm so horny," Cooper whined, humping my leg like a dog.
I tried to shove him onto the floor. "Go jerk off," I suggested. “I have good lube, and I will let you borrow my bathroom.”
Cooper laughed. “You're such a good friend.”
“Yes, thank you for noticing.”
“But I want, no, no,” he slurred a little, “dude. Listen. It's like, my penis needs a place to call home. It knows my hand and it hates it.”
That was funny to me. “What does that even mean?”
He made to move towards the balcony again and I grabbed him. “I need to fuck somebody!” Cooper yelled at the open door.
“Shut the fuck up!” I hissed, trying to sound serious. “You're going to get me in trouble!”
He gave me a sly look. “Let me fuck you and I'll be quiet.”
“Fuck your hand and go to bed.”
Cooper made another raspberry at me. “I do that all the time. What I need is a warm, wet hole.”
“I do not have that.”
He humped my leg again. “You have two of them!”
I laughed, but Cooper didn't drop it.
“Just let me fuck you, just this once. Just one time.”
“You're officially wasted. No more booze for you.” I pointed at his face. “Go to bed.”
Cooper bit my finger and I screeched like a banshee.
“Ouch!”
"I can't sleep all boned up!” He raised a knowing eyebrow. “Nicole used to like, seriously love anal. I swear I'm good at it."
Slapping his thighs, I retorted, "I don't care what your ex likes; you're not fucking my ass!"
"Seriously, seriously. Seriously." Cooper grabbed my forearms and pinned them to my chest. "Seriously, it's a miracle we have a kid at all. Nicole was a freak in the sheets."
I was getting more detail about his former sex life in five minutes that I had during his six years of marriage. "Don't care."
"It'll feel good, I'm serious." Cooper gave me a serious look. “I had a lot of practice. If I could get Nicole to squirt—”
“Shut up, Cooper!” He was trying to shock me and it was working. I’d never be able to see Nicole again without thinking of her getting fucked in the ass, squirting all over the place.
He giggled. “Like a fucking geyser. I always knew when she was in the mood for butt stuff when she’d put a couple of towels down…”
"I’m not putting a towel down for you," I retorted.
“Leather is wipe clean.” He cocked his head. "What if I blow you first?"
I was still laughing, but it was starting to feel like Cooper seriously was trying to get in my pants. Also my head was swimming, so maybe it was the booze in my veins. "Doesn't matter."
"But I'm so hard right now," he complained, pressing his crotch against me as proof. Goddam, he wasn't kidding.
"Why are you hard?” I yelled, trying to wiggle away. “Stop that!"
"I can't help it; I need to fuck so bad!"
A touch of panic helped me struggle hard enough to free my right arm. "Not my fucking problem," I retorted, pushing at Cooper’s shoulder.
He sat up a little. "But you're right here,” he pouted. If he were joking it would have been funny, but now I wasn't sure.
"I'm a dude," I tried. It sounded stupid coming out of my mouth.
"Yeah, well, I'm super gay for you right now."
I rapped my knuckles against his forehead. "That isn't a thing, Cooper."
"It is tonight, homie. You’re a hottie with a body. Look at all this muscle." Cooper ran his hands down my torso before I grabbed his wrists.
"You have your own," I countered, hoping the hair on my chest hid how my nipples had suddenly perked up. I was so drunk.
"I know," Cooper said smugly. He wrenched his arms out of my grasp so he could pull his shirt off. "Check it. Been working on these fuckers all year." He smacked his abs and flexed.
That made me smile a little bit. "Dumbass." He did have a gym-selfie body.
His head tilted to the side. "Come on, Marshall." Cooper’s voice turned low and smooth, the tone I always told him should be used for podcasts. His R&B voice. "Come on."
I shook my head. The booze from earlier danced around my stomach; maybe I needed to eat something.
"I'll give you the best head you've ever had," he promised.
I pshawed. "Doubt it. Have you ever given head before?"
Cooper grinned. "How hard can it be?" He lingered on the second word, sitting a little more heavily on me.
"You mispronounced ‘no, I haven’t.’"
"Let's make a deal." Cooper pinched my mouth shut before I could disagree. "If I can suck you off, like, all the way, then I get to fuck you."
"Why would I ever agree to that?" I asked around his fingers.
Cooper let go of my lips to chuck my chin instead. "Because I'll make you come twice, baby."
"Ugh, don't call me that." My chest felt hot.
That smug grin reappeared. "Why not, sweetie pie? I'll make it good for you, darlin’."
"I will throw up on you again. I'll do it."
"It's not that big a deal, Marshall."
I rolled my heavy eyes. “It feels like it definitely is.”
“It doesn't have to be,” he said slowly. The air suddenly felt thick.
I had a little trouble finding my voice. “I don't think it can help itself.”
Cooper sat back and looked at me for a moment. We gazed at each other in silence; he appeared to be analyzing me. I was trying to figure out how serious he was. Wasn't there a big-ass line we shouldn't cross? Or was I the only one who could see it?
Finally I groaned. "Ugh, what the fuck ever. Just this once." I was too drunk to make good decisions.
"Yippee!" Cooper hopped off the couch and skipped into the bedroom. I sat up and scrubbed my hands over my face.
It was fine. Cooper and I had both pounded drinks at the club. We had already passed out once, Cooper on the floor of the men’s bathroom and me on the subway. By the time we wake up tomorrow we will have forgotten everything that happened tonight. Maybe he’d get whiskey dick and go to sleep. Or me. If I couldn’t get it up the deal was off, anyway.
I heard a muffled “Ouch! Fuck!” As my friend stumbled into something. Cooper hollered at me, "Where the fuck is your lube?"
"Second drawer, left side," I called back. "And get a fucking condom!"
Cooper sailed back into the living room, waving a bottle and a box around. "Done and done."
I feigned a spit take. "How many rubbers do you think you'll need?"
"All of them," Cooper replied glibly, tossing the box on the coffee table. "Get your pants off."
A tight spot formed in my belly. "Are you sure—"
He didn't even let me finish; just yanked them down for me. Cooper let out a wolf whistle. "Damn, son. Lucky Avery."
"Don't do that." I forced my hands back to my sides, determined not to cover myself.
"What," Cooper asked as he reached for my hips, "be impressed by your size?"
His fingers were cold, and I jumped a little when he touched me. "Maybe," I answered, not knowing what I really meant.
"Scoot down a little." Cooper butted the coffee table back a few inches so he could kneel between my legs. An empty beer bottle tilted off of it and rolled onto the carpet. My friend looked back at it as he settled on the floor. “Oops. I am…maybe…not sober.”
“I can tell.” Not that I was any better; the room was tilting around us. My best friend’s hands were rubbing my thighs. And if I came I promised he could fuck me. Was this…okay?
He gave me a carefree grin. “I’m just saying, this might get a little sloppy. But I promise no teeth.”
"So fucking weird, man," I said, nerves rising.
Cooper just laughed.
"You're lucky I'm drunk right now."
He winked at me and grabbed my dick. "You're gonna feel very lucky in about five seconds."
My hands were shaking. “Hey, maybe this isn't such a good idea,” I started, but his tongue touched my cockhead and I shut up.
Cooper made a told-you-so noise. Maybe I was drunk, maybe it had been too long…I looked at the ceiling and just let Cooper blow me. He went slowly at first, licking up and down the shaft as it grew in his big hand. Then he put his lips around the head and sank on it.
“Goddam.”
The word burst from my mouth before I could stop them. Cooper chuckled a little but continued his descent to the base of my cock. I got rock hard so fast.
"Oh, shit."
Cooper pulled off and looked up at me. "Let me know if you're gonna come."
"Fuck you,” I scoffed, shoving his head back down. “If you want my ass, you swallow."
He chuckled and started sucking me in earnest. Honestly, I was having a hard time not fucking his face. I settled for petting his head, stroking the long hair away from his forehead the way I used to with Avery’s bangs. Cooper didn't seem to mind, in fact he sucked even harder when I ran my fingers down the back of his neck.
Was it the very best head I’d ever had? No. But it was damn good. Cooper actually seemed to be trying, pulling off occasionally to run his lips up and down the shaft, digging his tongue into the slit at the top, and tugging lightly at my balls. He pulled off and licked down until he could get my sack in his mouth, rolling his tongue across the underside. “Oh my god, yes,” I exhaled. Cooper laughed when I grabbed his hair. “Get after it, you bastard.”
He obeyed, lathering my balls before running his lips back up to the head, and finally slurping up the full length of my cock. His mouth was like hot, wet, sometimes-toothy velvet. The tightness in the pit of my stomach spread with each bob of Cooper's head, wider and wider until my eyes flew open.
“Fuck yes,” I said as a warning, using a fistful of Cooper’s wet hair to shove my cock as far down his throat as he would let me. I came like a comet, fast and white hot, thrusting hard into Cooper’s mouth as his hands squeezed my balls. It was a damn good cum; in the moment it was worth the awkwardness of my lifelong friend swallowing it.
If Cooper felt weird about it he covered pretty well. Sitting back on his heels, he pretended to gargle my jizz.
I chuckled, the heat from my head quickly fading. “You're so dumb sometimes.”
“It was better," Cooper said, "because I can't feel my lips." He tapped his mouth roughly for emphasis.
The world swirled a little bit faster. “Good tip,” I said, then snorted at myself. Cooper booed my wordplay.
“Are you ready?” My friend wiggled his brows.
"I need another shot first," I declared, trying not to make it more awkward.
"Preach, brother," Cooper agreed. He stood and extended a hand to me. "I'm sobering up, but God help me if I go to bed with blue balls and your splooge in my mouth."
That made me laugh. "Make that two shots.”
“Three.”
Now he was speaking my language. I let him pull me off the couch and push me to the kitchen. “Scotch? Bourbon?”
“For shots? That’s disrespectful. Do you have any vodka?”
I looked in the back of the cabinet, trying to pretend I wasn't still buck naked. “I have this cinnamon whiskey. It's still strong.”
Cooper laughed, “When did you start drinking like a frat boy?”
“Avery left it.” I should have put it in the box with the rest of her stuff. “She liked to mix it with Rumchata.”
“Gross.”
My head was too heavy to stand so I propped myself against my fridge. “Actually it was pretty good.”
Grabbing a couple of shot glasses, Cooper poured us both a healthy dose of orangey liquor. “To our exes,” he said, handing me one.
I clinked my glass against his. “Fuck them all.” The cinnamon burned on the way down. I probably needed to find that Gatorade from earlier, not drink more alcohol.
Cooper stuck out his tongue. “Ooh, that hurts me. Another.”
“To hangovers on a Sunday,” I offered.
“Hear, hear.”
The whiskey was gross on its own, like rubbing alcohol shat into a holiday candle. “Hey, remember that time you made me try strawberry tequila?” I asked with a grimace.
Cooper shook his head vigorously. “Nope, none of that,” he coughed, thumping his chest to get the alcohol down.
I spread my hands in innocence. “None of what?”
“Don't try to distract me.”
Pouring us both another shot, I tried to play dumb. “From what?”
Cooper raised his glass to proclaim, “To Marshall taking it up the ass.”
I glared at him. “Nope.”
“To…taking pity on your recently-divorced best friend who drove eight goddam hours to visit you?”
“No. Also, why can't I just, you know, give you a handy or something?” I whined.
“Fine, fine. To holding up our ends of a bargain upon which the terms have already been agreed, and partial payment has been rendered.”
Already I was starting to feel that first shot, so I said, “Sure, you twisted fuck,” and toasted him.
Cooper downed his drink and shook his head vigorously. “Blech. Your cum was better than this fucking shit.”
“Heh.” My stomach tingled at that. I grabbed our glasses to wash them, anything to pretend like I wasn't starting to freak out. Cooper’s arms encircled my upper body before I could open the dishwasher. I set the glasses back down for fear of dropping them.
“Oh, no you don't,” he said, turning me around.
“I wasn't trying—” I started, but Cooper kissed me. Not gently, either. Stupid, sloppy, I-have-a-boner-and-you-should-take-care-of-it kissed me. Like the kind of kiss that usually leads to a wild fuck. Hands everywhere. Thigh between my legs, pressing against my groin. Hips grinding. Fingers in my hair. Sucking my tongue so hard it hurt. Cooper pushed me backwards until my ass hit the back of the couch, practically climbing me as he did his best to fuse our bodies together. Then his tongue touched my uvula and I shoved him away. He stepped toward me again, but I grabbed his arms.
“What are you doing?”
Cooper shrugged, but he was breathing as hard as I was. “Trying to get you in the mood? I dunno.”
I locked my elbows. “There is no mood here, you weirdo.”
Cooper lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay.” The instant I relaxed he grabbed me by the neck and kissed me again, but like, dumb kisses. Little closed-lipped pecks all over my face like the ones grandmas give, but way rougher. And ten times as loud.
My only escape was to jerk backwards, but Cooper was already pushing me. Our feet left the ground, we knocked noses, and I yelped as we tumbled over the back of the couch. Of course I landed with a hundred and ninety pounds of lecherous flesh still trying to “get me in the mood” on top of me.
Cooper pinned my arms above my head. “C’mon, lil’ Marsh,” he drawled in an exaggerated Southern accent. “Give ole’ Coop some sugar.”
The rest of the shitty whiskey was kicking in. That at least could explain why I let ole’ Coop stand up, shuck his jeans, briefs, and socks, even wind his hair into a bun, and then climb back on top of me for more sugar. He kissed my nose, my eyes, my neck, up and down my arms, and tickled me around my ears and armpits. It was the cinnamon whiskey—straight up it was hell, but secondhand it was a nice flavor. Cooper kept making stupid comments like, “You so sweet, you're like to give me diabetes,” and “Ain’t you cuter than a speckled pup?” I could barely breathe for laughing so hard.
“You're insane,” I managed to wheeze when Cooper focused on the inside of my elbow.
“I've been hard for, like, an hour,” he explained. “All my brain blood is in my dick.”
Clumsily I hit the top of his head and retorted, “Then just get it over with.”
“Why, heavens to bitsy, is lil’ Marshall askin’ for a fuck from ole’ Coop?”
“You can't use ‘heavens to bitsy’ and ‘fuck,’ in the same sentence. And that’s not what I said.”
Cooper gave me a weird half-smile and dropped the accent. “I heard what I heard. Do you want to do it like this?” he asked, indicating our current position.
"Hell no, I don't want to look at you."
Cooper laughed. "Then get on your knees."
“Fuck you, I can't move when you're on top of me.” Or breathe. Or think.
“That's the idea.”
I shoved him one more time, and Cooper moved so I could turn over.
“You're shaking again,” Cooper observed.
“For good reason!” I snapped.
He patted my ass. “Aw, lil’ Marsh’s nervous! That's adorable.”
I looked back at him, a little irritated. “How are you so fucking cool about this?”
Cooper wrapped an arm over my chest and hauled me up. “Because,” he growled into my ear, “I want you so fucking bad right now.”
I was drunk. That's why his cinnamon breath on my neck sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. That’s why, when Cooper threw me back down on the couch I put my head on my forearms and waited for him. That’s why the sound of a condom packet being torn open, and the slick snap of the lube cap, and the tickle of curly hair against my asscheeks all made my dick swell a little bit. I was drunk, I was drunk, I was drunk.
"Big exhale," Cooper advised. I did, and he slipped into my ass, just like that.
"Fuck, that's big," I groaned. Wasn't he supposed to, like, start with a finger or two? How did it even fit?
Cooper put his hands on my hips and pulled gently. “Exhale,” he said again. “Oh my god, you're so tight.”
I just moaned in response. The pressure was almost unbearable, but I couldn't have said whether it was unbearably good or unbearably awful. This was…not what I had expected.
Cooper set up a slow, steady tempo, just enough that his balls tapped mine with each thrust. Sweat beaded on the back of my neck, tickling as it trickled downward. I focused on breathing. Keep my lungs moving. I agreed to this, so I could shut up and take it. Fuck, but I felt stretched. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale.
Cooper broke my concentration. "Marshall, don't be quiet, 'kay?"
"Huh?" I opened my eyes.
"Like, if it hurts—"
"It doesn't really hurt."
"Or if it's good,” he continued, “like, say so."
If I lifted my arm a little I could see his face framed upside down between my armpit and thigh. "I thought you were super good at this," I said sarcastically.
"Well, I haven't done this with anyone but Nicole, so." He rolled his hips as punctuation.
I groaned and shut my eyes again. "Just keep going."
Cooper’s cocky grin was obvious in his tone. "Do you mean, 'don't stop?'"
"Ooh, ah, give it to me. Ooh ah,” I replied, sotto voce.
"Smartass." But he pulled my hips back and thrust harder.
I grunted.
“Good or bad?”
“Middling,” I retorted.
Cooper’s grip tightened as his pace increased. Competitive bastard. It wasn't bad, though. If I concentrated, it actually felt kind of nice. Warm. Then again, I was drunk.
He pulled out without warning and I almost collapsed. “Sorry!” he said, leaning over me with an uncomfortable amount of concern. “Are you okay?”
Nodding slowly, I levered myself up on shaky arms. “That stung, though. Are you done?”
“Hell no! Lie down,” Cooper instructed, turning me over so I was staring at the ceiling. He grabbed one of the small throw pillows that came with the couch. “Put this under your lower back.”
I lifted my legs to fit the pillow in place and Cooper caught them on the way down. Bracing my legs over his shoulders, he positioned his cockhead at the entrance to my ass and pushed.
“Don't tense up on me now,” Cooper cautioned with a half-smile. “You were doing so well.”
I relaxed and gave him the double bird. He was back inside of me before I could blink, and I grabbed his forearms.
“Holy fuck!”
He paused. “You okay?”
I couldn't open my eyes. I didn't know how to respond to that. Okay would be a stupid word for what I was feeling. Regular speech did not apply. So I grunted, “Move, Cooper.”
I heard the grin in his voice. “Hell yes.”
He built a rhythm like a musician; swift, regular, percussive enough to snap air from my lungs. My whole body sang along, growing louder and louder with each plunge of his cock inside me. I’d never gotten hard during sex before. My brain couldn’t keep up with the experience.
"Oh, my god."
Cooper thrust harder. "Yeah?"
I opened my eyes and nodded.
"Just like that?" he asked, changing his angle and hitting something that made my stomach somersault.
"Give it to me." I meant it this time. “Just like that.”
"Fuck, that turns me on." He bit my calf, keeping his eyes locked with mine.
That turned me on.
It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I didn't need to jack myself off to stay on the edge. There was something Cooper’s cock touched inside of me, something that made me feel like I could almost come each time he hit it. Cooper braced one hand on my chest and I grabbed his wrist. The words weren't there, but the feeling…
“Can you come?” my friend asked intently.
“Yeah, if you keep going.” I reached down to hold my cock, not to stroke it, just to satisfy the need for it to be in something. To be squeezed.
Cooper kept his eyes on my face. “You feel so fucking good, Marshall,” he told me in this weird wondrous tone. Like I had given him a present. Like he had just reached nirvana. Like being inside me was a newfound treasure. It made the pervasive discomfort of getting fucked fade to the background, behind the skin and sweat and Cooper’s gaze.
My face was numb, my toes were tingling, and my balls ached with the need to ejaculate. I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t even catch my breath because Cooper was pounding so deep. At some point I wrapped one leg around his back, pulling him to me in a way I didn’t think too much about. It was drunk, frenzied sex.
My balls tightened. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—”
“You close?” Cooper asked through gritted teeth.
“Fuck yes.” I could barely get any words out.
“Me, too. I want you to look at me when you come.”
The buzzing in my brain grew too loud to fully process anything he was saying. Everything blurred around the edges; all I could think about was getting off.
Cooper put his hand on my cheek. “Look at me, buddy.”
My chest heaved. “I can’t.”
“Come on, baby.”
That’s all it took; once glance at Cooper’s bright eyes and—he just looked so fucking pleased—I came.
“Oh, fuck,” I groaned.
“That’s it,” Cooper encouraged me. “Shoot that fuckin’ load.”
My eyes shut of their own accord when hot white liquid rocketed out of my cock to spatter us both. I couldn't stop, more cum was forced from my balls with every thrust in my ass, until I was shaking so badly that Cooper replaced my hand with his own to milk the last of my seed.
“Shit, that's too hot,” he gritted out. “I'm gonna blow.”
I just put my trembling hands on his thighs, and then Cooper’s rhythm became more syncopated; his grip on my cock and side tightened until it almost hurt. Cooper came loudly, a rough groan forcing itself from his throat with every jerking thrust.
Finally he flopped on top of me, chest heaving, with his forehead in the crook of my neck. Strands of his long hair stuck to my skin.
“Fuck,” I said.
“Fuck,” he agreed.
“Ha ha. Fuck.”
“I think I’m really starting to feel those shots.”
And suddenly everything that had just happened was funny. We giggled like when we were kids and had just pulled off an epic prank. We laughed about fucking, and then about nothing, and then Cooper was just laughing at how I couldn't stop laughing, and I was laughing at how I kept patting his back for no reason, and then Coop was laughing at me thinking that was funny, and then his mouth was on my mouth.
“I can’t believe we just did that,” Cooper murmured against my lips. It felt like he had more to say, but instead kept kissing me.
“No homo, though,” I murmured between kisses, and suddenly we were both laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe. Cooper was still inside me, which was both strangely comfortable and also hilarious.
“I need some water,” I finally said. There was jizz in my hair. It’d been a long time since I’d come that hard. Or maybe I’d been in a weird position when I came. Actually, yeah, it was probably just gravity at work. Now that I thought about it, I was running on cinnamon whiskey and a string of bad relationships. Maybe I didn't know a goddamn thing.
With a satisfied sigh Cooper reached between us to gently pull his softened cock all the way out of my ass. He dragged himself upright and padded into the kitchen. I heard the trash can open, the faucet run, then Cooper leaned over the couch. He handed me the Gatorade I had dropped earlier.
“Where do I sleep?” he asked.
If he could play it cool, so could I. “Wherever, man.” Did my ass hurt? I couldn’t tell yet.
He nodded and turned on his heel. “I choose your bed,” he said as he strode down the hall to my room.
“Um, no,” I protested as I sat up, “I will be in it.”
Cooper didn't pause. “Fine, grab the condoms and lube on your way in.” He shut the door behind him.
It took me a second. “I said just this once!”
The bedroom door reopened. “First off, you told me to sleep wherever,” Cooper smugly reminded me. “Second, I am too drunk to put sheets on the couch. Third, we fucked each other's brains out.”
“Uh…”
“At least,” he put a hand on his bare chest, “you fucked my brain out. Did your brain get fucked out?”
I couldn't think very fast, so it seemed like he had a point. “I guess.”
“See? Without brains, we can’t come up with a good reason why we shouldn’t do it again.”
I folded my arms. “Is this why you came to visit?”
“Ha!” Cooper snorted. “It is now. Get your bubbly ass in here. Twenty minutes and I can go again.”
He shut the door behind himself. After a moment I picked up the box of condoms, the bottle of lube, and followed.
