friends | jorbyn ✓

epilogue pt. 2

we honeymoonin' bb 😌! yk what happens on honeymoons, if u don't do smut i'm super sorry bud. literally just skip the whole chapter if that's the case.
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fingers found skin, lips touched lips; pink against pink.
hips rolled against hips as the two undressed each other, extracting moans from one another.
corbyn looked up at jonah through hooded eyelids, eyes heavy with lust. his breath caught in his throat as jonah stroked his cock through his boxers with the hand that was not gripping his hip firmly.
"oh, fuck," he whimpered into his husband's sweat slick skin.
jonah pulled away from him, taking his hand and placing it against corbyn's throat. he applied little pressure as he tipped corbyn's head back. he planted his lips on his neck, lightly dragging his teeth against corbyn's throat before he dipped his head to his clavicle. he licked a wet stripe onto his skin before he signed a sizeable mark into corbyn's fair skin. corbyn let out a noise of approval.
when they pulled away, corbyn's cheeks were bright red and his hard on was raging by then.
"you good?" corbyn nodded. "you ready? round two?" corbyn nodded.
jonah gently pushed him back onto the bed, crawling in behind him. he pulled his boxers off, watching avidly as his erection sat against his lower stomach. he finished undressing himself as well, reaching over to the side table where the lube was kept. he dipped his head down, placing kisses against corbyn's slightly discernable ribs. corbyn trembled beneath his touch, arching off of the bed slightly.
jonah quickly lubricated his dick and looked down at corbyn, eyes swarmed with covetousness.
"you're so pretty," he muttered, word dripping a mixture of affection and adulation. "you know that?" he watched as corbyn flushed rose from his cheeks to his chest, swiping his tongue over his lower lip as he nodded; he knew, jonah told him everyday.
he gripped his hips and pulled him closer as he pushed into him harshly.
"oh fuck," corbyn gasped, closing his eyes. when jonah bottomed out he let out a string of execrates. he gripped jonah's bicep as jonah started a slow, even pace. jonah dug his fingers into corbyn's hips as he held him in place. he sped up, the sound of his skin against corbyn's like music to his ears. he began to break a sweat then, teeth dug into his lower lip.
corbyn groaned as jonah hit his prostate just right over and over again.
"fuck jonah. fuck," the syllables of his sentence were lapped in time with jonah's thrusts. his cheeks flushed as a knot tightened in the pit of his stomach.
jonah looked down at corbyn, slowing marginally.
"you," he panted. "can't come 'til i say."
corbyn's voice caught at the sheer thought of the inability to come. jonah grinned enthusiastically as he regained speed, knowing exactly what he was doing as he angled his hips so he was hitting corbyn's prostate with almost every thrust. with one hand he pumped corbyn's dick in time with his thrusts, feeling the precome dribble onto his fingers. tears pricked the corners of corbyn's eyes and jonah almost felt bad for making him hold out.
almost.
he waited before he gave in and said it: "god, you're so needy. fuck, go ahead."
corbyn wanted to hold out, but instead he came, hard and delivered with a garish moan.
jonah kept at it though, rubbing against his prostate and milking his cock.
he squeezed corbyn's hip when he shot his load into him, letting out more of a grunt than a moan.
"god." his thrusts became sloppy, but he kept at it.
he felt corbyn writhe and heard him whine beneath him as the overstimulation became too much for his small body. tears swelled in his eyes and rolled into his blonde hair.
eventually, jonah slowly pulled out and sat back, ridding his face of sweat with the back of his hand.
"shit," he breathed.
corbyn sat up and looked at jonah with a grin glued to his lips for a few beats before he got out of the bed and made his way to the bathroom. jonah followed suit.
in the shower, fingers found skin; lips found lips and i love yous were swapped a countless amount of times. but back in bed, the only sound being from tv and their snores.
corbyn fit snugly underneath jonah's arm, fingers gripping his husband's shirt; much like he'd held onto his mother's skirt plenty of years prior to their shared night.
jonah's hand lay flat against corbyn's chest, his head against corbyn's.
it was comfortable, being with the person you loved; especially when that person was your first ever friend.

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