"Shut up shut up shut up," Chris chanted, and climbed over Joey's legs to mouth at the collar of his t-shirt. "If you don't want to do this --" A nip at Joey's throat, his collarbone, the curve of his shoulder. "--all you have to do --" Chris wormed his hands under Joey's shirt, pulling it along with him. "--is say so."

"Dude, I didn't say that, and you know, you're the one who's talking." Joey brought a leg up between them, rocking his hips, pressure firm in just the right places. "So, you know, if you're gonna tell me to shut up --"

"Shut up," Chris repeated, and fumbled with the button of Joey's jeans. "Two fucking years I've waited to get you naked, I'm not gonna wait another fucking two minutes."

"No arguments over here. No arguments at all." Joey lifted his hips so Chris could pull down his clothes and tugged at Chris's t-shirt.

"Oh, sweet Jesus," Chris said, pushing back on his knees and devouring Joey's body with his eyes. "God, you're fucking gorgeous. Lovely fucking hands, lovely fucking chest, lovely fucking dick --"

"Your turn to shut up now," Joey said, and yanked on Chris's hair.

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