Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The clock in the room is slowly ticking away. Cars pass into the night, slow, few in numbers. Moonlight peaks through the curtains and illuminate the floor and blanket. The bed is warm and comfortable, the air just chilly enough to want to cocoon up yet feel at perfect temperature doing so. Early autumn, bundled up in a single offering.

And Joël can’t sleep.

It’s not because of any sort of anticipation for what’s to come tomorrow. Thursdays mean media duties, sponsor duties, annoying shit he’s got to deal with to get his money and continue racing. He isn’t looking forward to that. There is no adrenaline to wearing brand clothing and smiling for whomever. And yet, it’s like he can’t close his eyes and keep them there.

Despite the comfort of his blankets, he feels… cold.

It feels lonely, being there, far from his wife, far from anyone. The team is nearby, of course, and he’d gauge Désiré is near, so very near, next door even. Désiré, who must be sound asleep at this time of the night. Or maybe he isn’t, maybe he’s just getting ready for bed after a late read, perhaps just showered…

In how long has he not slept with anyone? Michelle and he share a bed, he’s had her read next to him countless times, but he can’t remember the last time they as much as touched each other’s bodies under their shoulders. In how long as he not even asked if they could make love tonight? How far has the passion that actually made them conceive gone? Once upon a time they were so addicted to each other’s presence that they fucked three times a day, and now, he can’t even imagine his hands on her breasts anymore.

He quickly finds said hands on Désiré’s polo instead, slipping under the fabric, fondling his chest, finding it firm and just big enough to outreach his fingers. With his thumb, he strokes his colleague’s nipples, prompting a moan, and another. Then a plea to go harder, get inside…

All his thumb finds, in actuality, is his own nipple, rock-hard. Rubbing it provides not relief, but further urge, that of heat and constrict. It’s about time he finally indulges and lets himself loose.

His right hand, the one left free until now, slips under his underwear and finds his cock, erect, more than ready for action. He pulls it down, then finds his entry point: down a lucky trail of golden hair, then a remarkable clit and, finally, the entryway. Gradually, he first rubs the tip of his cock against it, then sheathes himself in and, at last, starts thrusting.

Up and down, up and down, he switches up the rhythm. Slow, fast, taking his partner by surprise. Wave by wave, he can feel legs closing in on him, embracing his body, hands going through his hair. And he continues stroking these pecs, gets lost on his chest, might just go for a kiss that’s so sloppy it’ll soil the mattress under the both of them.

It builds and builds, as he pictures his partner crying out his name, begging up to go faster, to be gentler and harsher all at once; builds and builds and builds, intensifying, until he knows it’s coming sooner rather than later, in one fell swoop.

With barely enough clarity to grab it, Joël remembers to get a tissue or two not to make an entire mess of the place. Relief rushes through him, freeing from a weight he should’ve seen coming, let consume him. He’ll have to question his fantasies and visions tomorrow, because for now, sleep calls. It beacons, even, because if he thinks about how excited he was about another man’s pecs, he may find himself sleepless for longer than one night.

And also, cleanup can wait until tomorrow. That sounds a lot more interesting than sponsor duties…

Chapter Text

Désiré doesn’t believe in divine punishment, but at this point, he’s willing to bet there is a deity above all of them that, wickedly, watches him struggle through the oddest of punishments.

Mechanical failure at only meters from the finish line to a brilliant victory is a sore pill to swallow, but at least, it’s swallowable. What’s far less easy to swallow is his own saliva as he’s found himself stuck in a closet of some sort, just big enough for a person to walk into and another to peek a view, a closet that nobody ever seems to use anymore in the team, and that just stands there, waiting for someone to one day trip, fall, and get locked in it.

And if it was just that, Désiré would already be a little unhappy, because he’s a bit of a claustrophobe and he has other things to do than stay locked inside a damn closet. But no, not only is he stuck in abandoned locker of his workplace, he’s also found himself in there with his very own teammate.

Teammate with whom he’s had a wonderful friendship and a lot of thoughts Désiré has no time nor willingness to address. Teammate whose rock-hard dick is rubbing against his thigh.

Just the right day to wear shorts at work and not jeans, huh.

Joël isn’t any happier about this than he is, he’d wager. He’s been pouting against his shoulder for the past… minutes. Seconds. Hours. Who knows. The only thing that’s sure is that Joël has barely got enough space between the jammed door and Désiré’s body to wriggle his around; and if Désiré is already not a fan of small spaces, Joël downright hates them.

This is going to be a long day of not working at work.

It’s hot in there. It’s not exactly a surprise that it’d be, not at all even, but it’s still a bother. It’s wet, heavy on the lungs, and it… doesn’t help distract from his proximity with Joël, at the moment, non-existent to the point of obscenity. At least, his own body’s reaction to it, the twitch of his hand when his teammate’s cock rubs a little too noticeably near his own crotch, the woodsy scent of Joël’s hair, they’re making it obscene.

This is no time to think about this sort of things.

“Do you think they heard us?” Désiré asks anyway, just to fill the blanks.

Joël shifts a little, his hands closer to his head against the back of the closet.

“I fuckin’ hope so. Can’t be standin’ here all day.”

“What do you think about the new…” Stop twitching. “…the new gearshaft—I mean shift. Shift.”

“The hell you’re sayin’? It’s not changed.”

“Goddammit.”

“Hey, Dési, you’re okay? You’ve been… weird.”

“Your, uhm… penis is rubbing on me.”

Way to make the situation less charged.

“…I hoped you wouldn’t notice.”

“It’s kind of hard to notice when it’s been pressing against me, you know.”

“And I wish I wasn’t hard to begin with. What’s your point?”

“There… There is no point, Jo.”

Désiré has to keep a moan in. That dick isn’t even close to sliding inside him, yet it’s driving him crazy nonetheless. Joël had the great idea to dress in mini shorts today and it doesn’t mitigate the strokes of his raging boner at all. If anything, it being sheathed just enough to leave it to the imagination, yet free enough to be felt almost as if naked…

“L-listen, I’ve got a family at home, so, it’s…”

It goes slightly up and down, up and down—

“I know, I know, it’s… Damn it, if you’re hard, and I’m hard, then what the hell do we do?”

Ow, there it is. The slightly sensation of relief, mixed with a little bit of adrenaline and their breath that don’t get cooler by the minute… It’s only the first wave.

“You’re—” A foreign hand lands on Désiré’s crotch. “Oh, right. I forgot.”

Both of their breaths hinge at irregular intervals. Maybe… Maybe a bit of indecency wouldn’t hurt too much…?

“Don’t… Don’t leave your hand here, please, Jo.”

“Wait, you’ve already come?”

“…why do you think I didn’t want your hand there?”

“I dunno, it’s just…”

Before Joël can finish his sentence, the closet door opens.

Chapter Text

One thing leads to another. Meeting a pretty woman at a boring party leads to spending time knowing her. Getting closer to someone leads to isolating yourself until it’s only you and her. Being alone with a woman may lead to you sharing a drink, a kiss, and at times, something more.

Tonight’s sponsor party featuring the most boring people on Earth and also Désiré is one of those “more”, Joël would wager.

The lucky woman of the night is an old acquaintance of Désiré, met through common friends Joël has no knowledge of, with ashen blonde hair that glitter in the dim lights of her hotel room, eyes that look hazel in one light but green in another, and the body of a model, all fitted in a tight black dress that has left just enough to the imagination for Joël and Désiré to exchange a single glance that conveyed everything either had to know.

They didn’t intend on coming here together, nor even to flirt with anyone. One is a divorced father of two with little knowledge of anything not marital duties and the other is a shy, reserved, rare kind of man who Joël has never met otherwise. Neither of them had reasons to go out and pick women up, especially when they’re so uncertain of everything else. Gabriella just… happened to be there, at a boring sponsorship event, and both wanted a quick way out.

And yes, perhaps Joël is a bit smitten by her dusk-like glow. Désiré sure is, from what little he’s been able to cough out of his lungs. Maybe a little adventure wouldn’t hurt.

Or, well, the adventure has already started. Joël just so happens to be sitting on the bed next to his friend and the woman they’re accompanying exploring each other’s bodies; and while sitting there passively while Désiré is getting all of the fun should be frustrating, there’s also something… hot about watching them undress each other in front of him, letting him spectate.

He unbuttons his stuffy dress shirt and lets his belt loose. He won’t be needing either of them here.

In front of him, Gabriella has already dressed Désiré down to his chest and underwear. His teammate seems a little flustered by the course of it all, albeit his own hands are hard at work taking off the top of her dress. He only stops when she puts a hand on one of the crescent-shaped scars on his chest – there, he stops breathing, his eye concerningly staring at her golden nails.

“Oh, I see, you’re one of these,” she purrs into his ear, her finger drawing a line from his chest to his lucky trail. “I always wondered why you’d never go any further than a fleeting kiss.”

“Not everyone wants freaks of nature in their bed,” he replies with a hitch in his breath.

“Well, maybe I do, have you not thought to ask?” She chuckles. “And does he know?” she then asks, her thumb pointing at him.

Désiré audibly swallows, focusing himself back on her dress.

“Yes, he does.”

“Has he already seen you like this?”

“Yes, he has.”

She turns Joël’s way, her pearl earrings moving with her, a curl bouncing on her breast. She gives him a sly smile, the beauty mark under her reddened lips more obvious than ever. She gestures him to come closer.

“C’mon here, handsome. It’d be a shame to let you be by your lonesome, especially since you’re… quite excited to see us.”

There is no reason to go against, so he follows through on Gabriella’s proposition, finding himself a spot next to her, opposite of Désiré. Without skipping a beat, she balances herself on top of him. Before long, in front of two very interested men, she finishes taking off his own shirt, inviting herself to a wide open house.

“Us?” Désiré wonders out loud.

She fiddles with the flight of his pants, a smirk on her lips as she pulls them down. Joël only helps her out by rising his hips, letting her guide him out of his clothes. Her dress has now gone down enough that her nipples are free to see, none of her curly strands of hair enough to hide them. It also turns out she never had had underwear hiding under the fabric.

“I know how two people attracted to each other look at you, Desiderato. I wasn’t halfway undressed that our naughty little friend was already a little excited…”

She traces the length of his erect cock with the same finger as Désiré’s chest. The inhale he takes is tense. His hands are trembling with excitement yet remain by his side. Truly a beauty enough to awe a man, so easy in her demeanour, so used to pleasure, how to give it, how to receive it. They’re hers to play with.

There is no need to lie about how this, of all things, excites him.

In front of the both of them, still riding Joël, she finishes taking off her dress.

“This will only a bother to us,” she says as she slips out of it, leaving it on the floor. “Now, I take your silence to be an agreement.”

Joël and Désiré stare at each other. Pictures of a bathroom stall with clothes strewn around and fluids coming out of them flash through Joël’s mind. He’d do a lot to sheathe himself inside him again, feel the tightness, see how it makes Désiré crumble to a moaning mess when he does. Free from the burden of marriage and monotony, he can… He can, if he asks.

But Désiré acts before he does. He gets closer, takes Joël’s hand in his hand, and, gently, pulls him for a kiss that, while unexpected, is so welcome it tears into the fabric of the world around them. He returns it, eagerly, finding remnants of Gabriella’s lipstick along the way.

When they pull away, both are a little out of breath, but Désiré is smiling so brightly it makes Joël’s heart hop in his chest, and he already wants to go again.

“I’ve… never been in one of those,” Joël finally admits out loud.

“Oh, you’ve never had a threesome before?” Gabriella asks. “Well, I’m eager to teach you, then. Your friend also doesn’t seem to have ever had one. Don’t worry, I’m a great teacher.”

“That I’m certain of.”

Gabriella shuffles to Désiré’s right, sandwiching him between the two of them. He follows her with a gaze that, while still clear, is obviously starting to blur. She cradles his head between both of her palms, leaves a kiss on his lips. Joël can only watch in awe as one of her hands makes its way down his body, stopping to play with his nipple. Even through the muffle of their kiss, he can hear Désiré squirm a little under her touch. A squirm that sends a jolt of excitation down Joël’s spine, his own fingers already rubbing at his shaft, now throbbing in front of the spectacle.

When they pull away, there is a trail of saliva, neither of them is truly out of breath, and Désiré’s leg bounces up on its own.

“Aw, aren’t you adorable, getting so worked up under a single gesture…” She tells Désiré as her other index plays with a stand of his hair. “Even in bed, you find a way to be shy…” She squints her eyes, head tilting. “And yet I feel your hand near my jewels. Daring, are we?”

“I figured the teasing could go both ways.”

“How kind of you.” She cranes her head Joël’s way. “Don’t be scared, join in on the fun, handsome! I see your own jewel is in dire need of assistance…”

Désiré does the same, except he lets himself wander near his cock. His legs are twitching.

“Can I?” He asks, voice as firm as he can muster with a crimson face and sweat already pearling down his face.

Joël decides to accompany him to his promised land.

“Make yourself a home.”

With an eager gaze, Désiré does indeed make himself a home, and starts rubbing his cock up and down, holding an unsteady rhythm that, Joël is sure of, is purposefully so, as to catch him unaware, as to pin him down real hard. With each stroke, he sends a jolt of pleasure in his body.

There is, however, a noticeable jump in his strokes, his hand jumping a little, right as he’s building up to a first climax. Désiré’s breathing hitches again as his eyes grow wider, then close themselves, and he starts biting his lip. The reason why only makes Joël more entranced: Gabriella’s hand has slipped inside Désiré’s cunt, pulling on his strings to make him sing.

Despite barely controlling his own body’s reactions, he continues stroking Joël’s cock, while on the other side, Gabriella is very much enjoying playing with the man between the both of them, her available hand rubbing her clit. While a red dusting has appeared on her face, she still has all-knowing eyes, and her gaze crosses Joël’s. God, he wants to know how her cunt feels like.

The buildup comes to an end when he comes, a lot faster than he’d have expected; at which point, he’s lost Désiré to his own sea of pleasure. Watching him once more dishevelled, moaning two names at once, arching his hips to get his partner deeper inside him, even if it doesn’t make sense, is enough to get Joël hard again, for round two seems even more promising than the first.

Gabriella keeps increasing the pace of her fingers, until they both witness their partner exhale and come as well. Désiré whimpers on his way out, yet quickly catches himself again. He’s back to smiling again soon after, sitting himself up again. Gabriella takes some time to admire both of their handiworks, leaving Désiré enough time to recover.

From where he sits, Joël can see she’s wet and ready to go.

“Do you want to go for it?” He asks her.

She flashes him a smile, then opens wide her legs.

“Come on in, then. Make me scream your name, handsome.”

Without hesitating a second, Joël positions himself between her legs, very much ready to experience round two.

Chapter Text

As part of new ideas from the team, and whatever physiotherapist they thought to hire, both of their drivers have had the honour (sort of) to test out new methods for unwinding after practice, or to replace it, or whatever else. Today, they decided to subject everyone or so to saunas and Turkish baths, the latter of which one of them has cheekily described as “like the time Dési did Le Mans”. The interested party only dignified him with a chuckle.

Joël has experienced neither the sauna nor the Turkish bath before, but he opted for the wet and hot one rather than the dry and hot one. He likes raining in the rain and he’d rather spend time sitting in an environment that has a lot of steam than the one that smells of burning wood.

A little unsure of what you’d do in a big, tiled box of steam, he installs himself in silence. With how dense it is, and the noise the steam makes as it exits the place, he can’t see nor hear much in front of him. He’s a little grateful for that, because at the moment, he’s not wearing anything under his towel – an embarrassing little mistake, he just forgot his swimsuit at home – and he’s more than a little flustered down there.

He seems all alone in here, so he may as well use the opportunity. As long as nobody knows, he may be able to sneak a quick masturbation session in here, as to keep his focus for whatever he gets told next. Thus, he slips his hand under his towel, gauging how hard he is at the given moment – a little much for comfort, although no mind-boggling emergency either, this isn’t a repeat of the bathroom incident – then…

Then, piercing through the steam, he sees none other than Désiré, soaked hair splattering the walls.

He isn’t exactly sure why he doesn’t want to make himself known, but he doesn’t want to disturb Désiré, he’d suppose. Or maybe he simply wants to stare at his teammate, see him at his most natural. After all, it’s so immensely rare for anyone to see Désiré wearing anything less than a polo and jeans, maybe shorter pants if you’re lucky and catch him on a very hot summer day…

There’s a bit of shame within Joël to admit to himself he’s spent a little too much time imagining what his teammate looked like under his race suit and flameproofs. Like him, Désiré purposefully chooses a slightly baggier size than necessary, as if to obfuscate his true shape, and even outside the paddock, he barely wears anything short. And so… Well, Joël is curious, and as far as he knows, Désiré is well-toned, and if he has no abs showing, his pecs are a little to die for. Too bad the two scars under them mean he keeps them hidden. He wants to see more of that, more of the blond chest hair that peeks from his shirt collars.

He’ll ignore, for now, why his own wife has never made him this curious. Until he finds something better, and until Désiré stops titillating a weird part of himself, he’s going to blame his boner. Too little sex does that to a man who used to make love every evening.

Joël would also wager Désiré isn’t wearing anything under his towel. Well, “wager”… He’s getting a little sneak-peek of his partner’s bits when he repositions his legs on the small, tiled bench. He inhales and exhales in deep, almost laborious breaths. When the steam comes back to hide his figure, his voice almost sounds raspier, raunchier, and it’s activating a little something in Joël. Perhaps his boner is more of an issue than he thought it’d be.

It doesn’t help, at all, that whatever he doesn’t see turns his brain into a bowl of steamed vegetable purée. He pictures Désiré covered in water and sweat, red in the face, bare chest facing the world, with nipples just in reach and his entire body there, a hand playing with himself and the other stroking his pecs, his skin glistening as if oiled—

Suddenly, none other than the real Désiré, towel entirely back on, turns his head towards him, an unreadable expression on his face.

“Joël? Is that you?” He calls out.

“I, uhm— Well, honestly, I didn’t see you weren’t done yet.”

Désiré looks around them, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Hey, uh… How long have you been here for? I haven’t heard the door even creak in a while.”

“A little while.”

Wet footsteps come to him in slaps. With no steam left to hide the noise, he has the time to watch Désiré come to him, sit next to him.

“It’s a weird question to ask but, ah… You wouldn’t happen to have been watching, right?”

Joël nearly chokes on his own saliva.

“Why’d you even ask that?”

“A feeling, honestly.” His eyes stare down at his neighbour’s crotch. “And maybe the fact you’re more erect than a flag in the wind.”

“That doesn’t mean anything—”

“I don’t mind, by the way.”

“What do you—”

“Whatever it is you were doing before I interrupted.”

“Really? But I figured—”

“You’ve had your fingers and even your cock deep inside my damn cunt before. Are we really going to pretend like I don’t enjoy you enjoying the view?”

“Oh. That solves… a lotta things.” Not his erection, but that’s his problem. “But you’re sure?”

“Well, it’s still a little awkward to think about, but… Yeah, I don’t really mind either, so… That’s a good sign, I guess.” He chuckles. “Unfortunately, I’m not really in the mood for more, so… We should probably not do that here, until you want to get caught.”

Oh, that’d be… That’d be kind of hot, actually. Very embarrassing and something not worth the trouble, even for him, because he’d like to keep his seat in the sport and his steady flow of big money coming, but… Something to fantasize about, maybe.

Désiré sighs with a smile.

“Don’t tell me that’s also something you get off to.”

“…maybe.”

Chapter Text

Joël’s getting a bit concerned with their afterwork activities. They’ve kept increasing in intensity, and while it’s always more than a pleasure and the most exciting times of his week, he’s nonetheless concerned about where it may be going if Désiré is going to cry like that.

Is going to the limit fun? “Fun” is an understatement. Exploring positions, paces, techniques and even tools has been eye-opening and, to be honest, it’s helped him understand both Désiré and himself throughout these sessions. Getting divorced and forsaking his perception as a “normal” man has been liberating and it’s not now that he’s once again sharing an intimate moment with his partner in more than one meaning of the word that he’ll go against it.

And yes, there is a true appeal to him, even right now, to seeing Désiré lose his composure when he fucks him hard enough. The way his voice shakes, the squirming his body does against his will, the uncontrolled moans and the occasional whimpers. If he bites his lip, then Joël has won, and he loves winning. The exhilaration of being good at sex is amazing, the idea he’s pleasuring the both of them even more-so.

Still, for as much as watching his calm and composed teammate melt into an unrecognizable, mind-bogglingly hot person gets him so immensely hard, the tears might be too much.

Yet, said tears are a little hot, he must also admit. As he watches Désiré tear up after a strong thrust going maybe a little too deep, he wants to see more. He wants to lick his tears off his face, combine his moans with his sobs, and yet also comfort him once he’s started truly crying. It’s tears for him, in a way, a proof he’s so good, a way to turn discomfort into its opposite. He’s doing things to Désiré’s mind that even he has trouble evaluating, it’s how deep they’re both down into this rabbit hole of their own.

Well, before they keep at it, Joël ought to at least check up on his partner. Making love is only making love if both participants are into it.

“Hey, Dési… You okay?”

“Yes… Ah… Why…?”

He loudly sniffles, before passing hands on his face, as if guessing this is what Joël was staring at. It must’ve been, on second thought, considering how Désiré is.

“You’re crying, you’re really sure you’re okay?”

“N-no, keep going, this is…” He wetly chuckles. “It feels great.”

“Really…?”

“Yeah, really,” he nearly misses his reply, voice smothered by another moan.

“If so…”

Slightly reassured, but mostly enthralled, Joël continues thrusting one hole and stimulating the other however he can, looking a little disrespectfully at the tears that keep on forming. He’ll admit it to himself, and to Désiré, later.

Chapter Text

In his secondary home, far from the bustle and hustle of Monaco, hidden away along the vines yet bordering a lake, Désiré has a greenhouse. In it, there is a tiny patch of strawberries and mostly white orchids, growing on sticks planted into the ground, which he takes great care in cultivating. His hands carefully handle scissors and shovels, pour just the right amount of water to help them grow, knead the ground so its nutrients reach the roots of his beloved flowers.

These hands don’t tremble on a normal day, but today is different, because Joël is with him, standing right behind him, and his very own hands are vagabonding around Désiré’s waist. His friend just so happened to have forgotten to put on a belt before coming, or perhaps it’s part of his gardening attire – whatever the cause, Joël is taking full advantage of it by playing around with his pal’s crotch, teasing to come for his sensitive zones without entirely going for the kill. He did earlier but was almost swatted away when it almost turned to catastrophe.

Désiré miscuts a part of whatever plant he was working on, prompting a long sigh to escape from his lips.

“Okay, that’s enough,”, he tells his guest as he removes his hand from his pants.

“Enough what?”

He turns around to face his friend, red in the face. He puts the scissors down and takes off his gloves.

“Enough playing around while I can’t do anything back.”

While Joël is looking, grinning like a child who succeeded in his prank (and that’s more or less what he just was), Désiré takes him by the wrists and—throws himself at him, bringing them both down to the ground. Before he knows it, Joël is on lying on a piece of tarp, head miraculously propped up on another, folded piece of tarp.

“I’m going to go wash my hands, you don’t move,” Désiré then tells him, indeed headed for the tarp at the entrance of the greenhouse.

Joël could totally continue being a general nuisance and disobey the guy who just tackled him to the ground for no reason. But, on the other, he has an idea of what’s to come; and what’s next is what he’s been looking for the entire time, so no need to leave his tarp bed.

When Désiré comes back, his hands are indeed free of dirt. He lowers himself to ground level, his clean hands unbuckling Joël’s belt.

“You really wanna do that right here and there?” The latter asks, observing how he’s already almost naked from the waist down.

Upon hearing that, Désiré takes off his shoes, then his old, dirtied jeans. Joël can already see the fruits of his earlier efforts: his partner is wet throughout. He smirks at it.

“You’re asking that too late.”

Joël shrugs.

“Simple courtesy, y’know.”

“I know,” Désiré smiles before taking off Joël’s underpants off, then his.

“Oh, we’re doing… Fuck, I don’t remember the name for that position.”

“We can check that later.”

With sharp eyes, Désiré slowly positions himself, his feet and right hand constantly moving, making a crackling noise under them. The birds are chirping, the light of the sun heats both of their skins, a hand brushes a shaft and finally, with one swift movement, Joël’s dick is inside.

Thrusting from the bottom feels unusual, but he quickly takes to it, moving his hips in sync with Désiré’s ups-and-downs. It’s a good sweat to say the least, with the heat of the greenhouse only intensifying the feverish frenzy of their intercourse, the sweat pouring down from Désiré’s pores almost melding with his cum. For someone who claims to have little flexibility, Désiré can still pull off a nasty topping position; that much Joël can say from how well squeezed his cock is at the moment.

“Are you… You think we can be caught…?”

“No chaaaance…” Désiré replies as he moans. “This is… barely see-through…”

Joël increases his pace, just to watch his partner wobble in his own garden. Despite taking the head of their little game, he’s still the first to falter in composure, verbose style giving into the purest of noises. The scenery compliments it: the flowers are relaxing with their pleasant aroma, the chirp of birds is almost synchronized to both of their voices, the hot air of the greenhouse is pushing them further in their reserves.

Joël would even go as far as to say the temperature increases his pleasure. His head spins slightly, all the while, he gets to watch Désiré push even further, going past a rumoured limit of his, just to either prove he’s the best at sex of them two, or to please them both – and either is good enough to make Joël even harder, even needier, eager to accompany him in either. Competition and excitation, at the same time, in the very same outdoors.

Progressively, inside, he feels himself more and more clenched. Désiré’s shoulders regularly twitch now, his feet and hands curl up, and it only increases in both frequency and intensity when Joël lets himself be pulled in further and further. Still, he knows this is but the grand finale…

“Already…?”

In lieu of a full cheeky smile, all he gets is frowned eyebrows and the smidge of a smirk.

“That’s what you get for teasing me… while I garde-een…”

As announced, Désiré comes undone in more ways than one, letting a whimper come out of him as well. He takes himself off Joël’s cock, cum following his every move, drippling on somebody’s else thigh. As if unaware, the flushed Désiré doesn’t point any attention to that: instead, his eyes are targeting the still-erect cock next to him.

“I can’t leave you like this, can I…?”

“It’d be too bad to… stop here now… wouldn’t it…?”

Chapter Text

A man, a true man, surely wouldn’t want to be the recipient of someone else’s cock. He’d want to be the one in control, surely, thrusting his partner into submission, into an orgasm, into some sort of proof of their manhood. A true man makes love to a woman by inserting himself in her, ejaculating his seed inside her, and conceiving children at a normal rate. That is what makes sense to Joël.

But there are things that he’s starting to understand less and less. How he can have disinterest, resentment even, for the mother of his children, for the one he’s promised to be with through sickness and health, who’s been by his side for decades and has accompanied him on many frenzy nights, even before the eyes around them told his twenty-year-old self to marry the girl he had knocked up on one too many nights of naughty fun. How he has qualms about not being faithful to her, yet not enough not to do that, how the divorce incoming is both a source of stress and a huge relief for his conscience, how a couple can rot away so easily, even without external interference.

Chief among these things is his own damn self. Why would a man like him, a husband, a father, a big name in motorsports, be in his position, knees on a soft mattress, holding himself up on all fours, getting his ass lubed up? How did he get to that point without ever losing a single bet, without alcohol ever explaining this? And, worst of them all, why is he so excited about this, his entire body tense, his cock dripping with precum, a smirk on his face?

But does it matter, at the end of the day? What even is “a true man”? Even that definition has been flipped upside down to him, because no genitalia can ever define this anymore to him – and if your sex at birth doesn’t define this, then what does?

The spurting of a bottle takes him out of his reverie.

“You seem really deep in thought,” Désiré tells him. “You still want to go through with it, right?”

“Oh, yeah! Yeah. Of course.”

The button of the bottle closes in a click, and after that, he knows he can simply let himself be handled. The slight chill of the lube on his ass starts of disconcerting, but he warms up to it soon enough, especially as he can feel prudent fingers prodding at the scene. Now he has some idea of what it must feel like for Désiré when Joël has fingers inside him, and while he doesn’t get time to moan about it, he almost wishes he had.

“Do you think this will be okay?” Désiré asks once more, his hand halfway out of there.

“Yeah.” He gulps, riding the wave. “If you think you’ve done enough, at least.”

“You should just relax from now. I’ll be gentle.”

In his back, Joël hears a couple more noises. The metallic noise of a buckle flying around, getting locked in place, checked. Shuffling of fabric and leather – although that last part might just be his imagination playing tricks on him. He simply can’t wait to see what that contraption does.

The noises end when Désiré puts one of his hands on Joël’s ass, his other… somewhere else. He stops asking questions when the lubed, smooth surface of the tip rears itself. It pushes slightly against his anus, and while it feels foreign, it doesn’t feel bad either.

“Can I go deeper?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Slowly, smoothly, like molasse, the dildo feels more and more of him. It’s exhilarating in a way he can’t compare to sex he’s had before, wracking his brain a little as it goes along. His muscles clench on their own, trying to figure out what this is, all the while he’s pulsing.

Every time Désiré asks to go ahead, to continue deepening, Joël says yes, oh so enthusiastically. It just does something to him.

“Forgive me if this isn’t as good as you’re expecting,” Désiré tells him. “This is the first time I’m doing this.”

“Wait, rea… really?”

The first thrust sends him back to the fuzzy zone. It’s like being a virgin all over again, except instead of coming after thirty seconds or so, he’s with an experienced partner who has stamina and all of the right gestures, from the strokes in his partner’s hair to a style in his rhythm, alternating, yet never brutal. There is nothing to fear and everything to enjoy here, like a practice session for something grander. He can’t imagine the crazy things they’ll be able to do when Joël is more used to this.

His entire body loves this shit. While he can’t see it, too busy closing his eyes when it gets so good and in no position to stare at his own dick, he can still entirely feel pressure building down it, as if an extension of the fake dick penetrating him.

“Fuck… Fuck being a man…” He moans out.

“What’re you… on about…?”

The question doesn’t register. Less than the waves of pleasure that are going through him at the moment. Instead, his hand goes for his dick, stroking at it in rhythm with Désiré’s thrusts – or at least attempting to, because between having to keep positions on the bed and simply the slight tremble of his hands, it’s a lot harder than it should be. And, in turn, he only gets harder. A virtuous cycle that he has no reason to leave anytime soon.

And so does Désiré’s huffs, the strain in his voice as he mindlessly whispers things to himself or to the both of them, when he asks Joël if he’s fine. He’s in control, entirely, and oh so gentle about it: no insult, no dirty words, only care and attention and being good at sex. When he’s not losing his marbles under him, getting railed until he whimpers and squirms and screams, he’s such a softie in bed.

Eventually, Joël comes on the sheets, a surge of pleasure clenching his muscles for a few, intense moments. The pressure, then the release, almost make him collapse onto himself; yet he manages to stay on his limbs for long enough for Désiré to get himself out of there and, soon after, join him on the mattress.

Désiré is scarlet in the face, sweaty and a little dizzy, but he smiles so brightly. The strap-on is still attached to him, silicone cock facing up, covered in lube and what else. To Joël’s breathless surprise, Désiré has a hand on his crotch, left exposed by the strap-on, fingers playing with his clit. Joël watches in silence, all the while euphoria kicks in. The world is a beautiful place and so is his friend’s pussy.

“What was that thing about… being a man…?” Désiré asks.

“I was, hum… I’ll explain… when my brain don’t feel like mush…” Joël would’ve sworn his partner would’ve come as well.  “Hey… Do you want to try it yourself…?”

He’s got an idea. A very naughty idea that might bring his dick back to life again.

“Try what…? You’re as flaccid as it gets…”

“The dildo, I mean.”

Désiré looks aside, then at the strap-on, and finally back at Joël.

“If you’ll indulge me, then can I really say no…?”