CW: Alcoholism, eating out, light bondage, face fucking, gagging etc.
Kyle came home roughly around 5:30pm, pulling up in the driveway of his childhood home and turning off his car. He grabbed his keys, automatically thumbing through them and going up to the door to unlock it. It was the same routine nearly every day, and when you're already in your mid-forties, life gets bland pretty quickly. As soon as he stepped in, almost like clockwork, Stan waltzed in with a bottle in his hand. Shit.
"Kyle!" Stan proclaimed, wobbling over to his husband and throwing his arms around his lover's neck. This threw Kyle off-guard at first, the force of Stan's body clashing against his nearly making him tip over. He closed the door with the heel of his boot, prying Stan's hands off of him to speak to him directly.
"How many drinks have you had?" Was the first question, and Stan automatically switched his goofy, drunken grin into a frown. With furrowed brows he stared Kyle in the eye, wobbling slightly on his feet as he stood. He thought for a moment, his hand idly clenching and unclenching onto the bottle as if to signify this.
"You're always so judgmental, Kyle! God! I can't get just a little drunk? It's like you're always out to get me!" He slurred, waving his hands around erratically in the air and jabbing a finger into Kyle's chest for emphasis on his last line. He huffed and turned to take a seat on the couch, plopping himself down and taking a long swig of the vodka in his bottle.
Kyle's brows knitted together In frustration, the redhead pursing his lips as if he were in deep thought. Bingo. "Hey, Stan. How about this… you tell me what's wrong, and what I can do to fix it that doesn't include alcohol, okay?" It was times like these that he prided himself in his knowledge in psychology and counseling.
The raven looked back to where Kyle was standing right behind him on the couch. His hands were resting on Stan's shoulders, rubbing gently to try and get him relaxed. Stan seemed to think this over for a moment, focusing on the feeling of his husband messaging him, letting his head fall back into the cushions of the couch.
"Nothin', life's just shit. You know the drill." He muttered, twiddling his thumbs with the bottle still in his hand. "Okay, well, what's so shit about it?" Kyle asked, his voice gentle. Stan shrugged his shoulders, letting out a long sigh of frustration and almost guilt.
"I dunno, It just doesn't feel the same anymore. Nothing makes me happy, and It all happened because of the fuking pandemic." Kyle felt a little bit of anger stirring up in his gut, but pushed It aside for his loved one.
"Okay, well… Try and think of something that makes you happy. NOT including alcohol." he replied, continuing to rub gentle circles into his husband's back. Stan took a moment to ponder before he spoke, subtly and taking his time in between words to try and get past his drunken state of mind, "I… I guess you make me happy.." He cleared his throat, now laying down on the couch.
"Oh really? What else?" Kyle inquired, a small smile tugging at his lips. Stan's face reddened as Kyle went around the couch and looked down at Stan. Stan realized his face was directly in front of Kyle's groin. He looked back up at his husband, swallowing thickly and glancing back down.
Kyle crossed his arms and raised his right brow, a smirk now plastered on his face. He nodded his head, Stan instantly going for the hem of his lover's pants and curling his fingers onto it, pulling them down enough to where he could have access to all the good bits.
He took Kyle into his mouth greedily, the redhead groaning softly and reaching down to grab at Stan's hair. Instead of letting Stan go at his own pace, he began to buck his hips. Keeping Stan's head in place to face fuck him.
Stan gagged around his partner's length, bringing his hands up to grip onto Kyle's hips. He moaned softly, looking up at his husband for a moment, seeing Kyle was looking up at the ceiling and groaning from the feeling of Stan's warmth around him. Stan had a growing bulge in his pants, a very visible tent protruding and causing Kyle to groan under his breath from the sight of his lover like this all for him.
When Kyle felt he was close enough to the edge, he pulled back, hurrying to climb on top of his husband and pinning him down. His lips looked a little swollen, and his face was red and sweaty, but Kyle didn't care. He went down to kiss his lover, savoring his taste and running his tongue along his mouth, their teeth clashing together violent and harsh.
Kyle's hands snaked down Stan's waist, gripping at the button of his pants and making sure to work quickly while taking the clothing off. He spat on his hand, trailing it back down and agonizingly slow, pushed his fingers deep inside of his lover.
Stan groaned and bit his lip, his mind still feeling fuzzy and weak. The redhead added another finger, lowering his head to lap and suck at Stan's neck. He bit down roughly, taking out his fingers and wiping them on his jeans. He then slid himself inside, hard.
His lover let out a yelp of pleasure and gripped onto Kyle's shoulders, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before opening them just a crack to see everything going on below. He shut his eyes again, letting his head fall back into the armrest of the couch. Just when he had thought he was going to get a little bit of peace, he felt his husband start to quicken his pace, getting rougher as the time progressed.
It stung, bringing tears to Stan's eyes, but he didn't complain, not like he really could with Kyle's fingers shoved down his throat again. Kyle began to thrust harsher, rolling his hips erratically and rough. The thrusts were sloppy, uneven, and fuck, they hurt like a bitch. But even in Stan's drunken state it felt wonderful.
He reached up his arms, hooking them under Kyle's arms, which were now positioned on either side of Stan's head. He was face to face with Kyle's chest, burying his face into the flesh. He clawed at his lover's back as he continued thrusting, and soon enough Kyle's hands found their way to the raven's neck, squeezing gently at first.
With each thrust, Stan felt the spark of excitement shoot down his spine, and the warm, familiar feeling pooling up in his gut and growing larger. He cursed when he felt Kyle's grip tightening, letting his arms fall limp at his sides.
"You like that, you little slut?" Kyle growled, spitting in Stan's face for emphasis. Stan only let out a choked sob in response, the hands on his throat preventing him from saying anything. Suddenly, Kyle pulled out completely, removing his hands from Stan's skinny little neck. He walked away, leaving Stan gasping for air and sweaty.
Right when Stan was about to fall asleep on the couch, Kyle came back, this time with a rope and a hand towel.
"What are you- Mmph-!" He was shut up by Kyle shoving the towel in his mouth to use as a gag. He then tied up his wrists, flipping Stan over to where he was on his stomach. He teased his lover's entrance, lifting up his hips to where his ass was now higher up. Kyle licked his lips as if he were preparing himself for the best meal he'd had in a while, ducking his head down until his tongue was prodding at Stan's hole.
Stan let out a muffled moan, digging his nails into his own hands, which were still tied up. Kyle continued to eat his lover out, letting out a few sounds of his own. He fucked Stan with his tongue, making sure to get all of the good spots that he knew drew his husband crazy.
Just as soon as he realized his husband's moaning get shrill and loud, despite the muffled attribute, he backed away, going back to actually fucking him. He slipped himself inside again, feeling Stan tense up. He started to move, this time agonizingly slow. He pulled out, pushing back in hard. Each time, Stan let out a small yelp and his body rocked with Kyle's hips.
It was getting awfully hot now, and Stan was coming close to his climax, sure he was bleeding from how hard he had dug his nails into himself. He couldn't feel it, he was still drunk. Soon enough he came, Kyle following suit without pulling out. He only pulled out when he was finished, riding out his orgasm beforehand.
He watched as his fluids leaked out of his husband, dripping onto the couch and coating it white. Fuck. looks like he's gonna have to clean that up later. For now, though, he was too focused on Stan.
"Fuck, Stan–" Kyle groaned, watching as Stan grew tired and limp. He untied his wrists, taking out the towel from Stan's mouth. He grabbed Stan's face harshly after, smashing his lips against Stan's with greed and hunger.
He shoved his tongue into his lover's mouth, giving out a small moan of pleasure. His tongue waded around, making sure to leave no crevice unsearched. Once he pulled back, there was a string of saliva connecting their lips together.
Kyle finally collapsed, bringing Stan up to where he was now laying on top of the redhead's naked body. Kyle bagan to run his fingers through Stan's short black locks of hair, kissing the top of his head. "Love you, baby."
"Love you too," Stan slurred, his mind hazy from both the alcohol and from their activities. "Feel any better? Now are you gonna listen when I say there are better outlets than alcohol?" Stan simply nodded.
"We need to clean up, don't we?"
