"Tyler, you're drunk," Luke breathes between the kisses that pepper his face, the hand that cups his chin and pulls him closer.
He is laying across the couch, the half finished cup of beer abandoned on the table beside. Tyler's heavy weight pushing him down into the cushions.
Tyler's tongue slips into his mouth, and his back arches in response. Hands brush over his hips, pull his shirt up. The cool air tickles his heated stomach and drives him insane.
Tyler pulls back, grinning, face red, flushed. The tingling sensation of rubbing against Luke's beard still echoing across his cheeks.
Whispering conspiratorially, "I heard you were the man to see about a good time."
Then grinds down. Hard, pressing his erection into the man beneath him.
The sarcastic response Luke wants to say falls away from him as he's tormented by Tyler's hips rolling ontop of him, hitting him in just the right spot and leaving him hot, squirming with want, need.
Luke's mouth half open and panting as Tyler slides down his chest, leaving a wet trail of sloppy kisses behind him. All across his collarbone, the half unbuttoned shirt, the sensitive span of flesh by his bellybutton still heated and covered with saliva.
Tyler stops to scrape his teeth over the exposed skin that sits beneath the hem of Luke's pants, turning him into a twisting, mumbling mess. Soft cries and endearments fall from his lips as Luke bucks his hips, knots a fist in Tyler's hair.
The zip of Luke's pants being opened is unnaturally loud in the otherwise still room. The passed out form of their friends on the floor beside them not even beginning to stir.
--
"Oh Momma," slips out of Luke's mouth and his hips lift off the couch when Tyler's wandering hands dart inside his pants.
"I ain't your momma," Tyler says with a grin. His hand finds Luke's leaking erection and a thumb slides over the tip.
"Daddy!" Luke cries, and bucks up into him.
