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Ballister was horny. Yes, he and Ambrosius had sex since the wall came down and they talked out their issues, but it was more of a gentle love making than deep fucking. And the first few times, it had been perfect. Their emotions were still raw from the whole ordeal, and the slow movement of Ambrosius inside of him as they kissed was exactly what he needed.
But they hadn’t moved past that stage, and it had been months. Bal knew that Ambrosius still felt bad about his arm, even after the countless times Bal had reassured him that he had been forgiven.
But the sex issues were different. It was like Ambrosius wanted to claim him and mark him, but was holding himself back. Maybe he was still worried about Bal’s arm, maybe he was worried about hurting him somewhere else. Maybe he thought Bal wasn’t ready for anything harder yet. But before everything had happened, Amb had never seemed to be afraid of giving Bal exactly what he had asked for, fucking him long and hard into the mattress, dominating him in ways that always left Bal feeling sated and full. But now Amb refused to do anything other than long teasing caresses, gentle kisses, and slow thrusts.
And Bal loved it, loved him so much. But he wanted Ambrosius to lose control and just take him again, like he had before. And so he concocted a plan.
When Ballister returned from work one day, always a few hours earlier than Ambrosius, he went to take a shower after a short workout instead of the long one he usually did. He was slowly trying to let go of tiny pieces of control he had over himself, trying to live in the moment a little more. And so, in the shower, he contemplated.
Did he want to be open and ready for Amb, or did he want to feel the burn of the penetration, to feel that reminder of who exactly was taking him? He ultimately decided on the latter, and quickly showered until he was squeaky clean everywhere, and then dried off, leaving his hair damp and messy in a way he knew Ambrosius used to love in the past. And then he proceeded to put on Amb’s tightest pair of black boxer briefs, and nothing else.
Then, when he still had half an hour until Ambrosius came home, he started cleaning the house. He dusted and swept the floors, and was just about to mop when he heard the front door open and close, Ambrosius calling out to him, “I’m home, babe!”
And when he set down the mop and walked to the entrance way, he saw how Ambrosius’s eyes dropped to where the faint line of well-groomed hair disappeared beneath those black briefs, and then further down.
Ambrosius raised an eyebrow, and looked back up to Bal. “Are you unable to dress yourself all of a sudden, or is there a reason you’re wearing my underwear and nothing else?”
“They were just the first ones I grabbed sorry. And I got hot while I was cleaning,” Bal explained, glad that Ambrosius was responding to his temptations without prompting.
“Okay, sure love.” Amb just smiled knowingly and walked over, kissing Bal once, twice on the lips and brushing past him to go to the kitchen. “What would you like for dinner tonight?”
Bal made it a point to draw out his thoughtful hum, following Ambrosius into the kitchen. “Maybe salads?” He didn’t want the food to go bad while his plan was put into action.
“Sure, I think we have some leftover chicken in the fridge we can add,” Ambrosius responded, walking past the kitchen to their bedroom, going to change.
And when he exited, Bal made sure he was positioned exactly so that he was bent over, seemingly unable to find the chicken in the fridge. And from Amb’s slight intake of breath, he knew what Amb thought of this exact position and where his eyes had fallen. “Where’s the chicken?” he asked, looking over his shoulder to see Amb’s eyes snap from his backside up to meet his gaze.
“Here, let me,” Ambrosius said, drifting over, purposely running his hand over the swell of Bal’s ass as he reached past him to grab the container where it was hidden behind the orange juice.
He moved to set it on the counter, and Bal shifted and twisted slightly so that his ass brushed over Amb’s front, drawing another breath from Amb. “I’ll get the rest of the ingredients out,” he said, smirking into the fridge as he did, and giving Amb another good glimpse. “How was work today?”
“Good,” Ambrosius responded. “The usual, you know, with Todd and the others trying to fit in smoothly still.”
“Hmm, and I bet you slid right in perfectly, huh,” Bal responded, and shot a heated look over his shoulder to make sure his meaning was clear.
“You could say that,” Amb responded, eyes dropping to follow the lines of Bal’s body as he moved the ingredients onto the counter. But instead of doing anything about it, he just turned back to where he had started cutting up the chicken onto a plate.
Bal let out a silent sigh. He needed to try harder apparently, since Ambrosius wasn’t doing anything with his invitations. But at least he was looking.
And so, as dinner prep continued, Bal kept making small comments (You don’t need to cut the chicken that small, I like a mouthful), and leaving lingering touches across Amb’s ass and back. He also started throwing out comments to goad Amb into getting a little irritated, hoping that anger could translate into something else. And Ambrosius let his eyes wander, and Bal could hear the lust in the back of his throat building as his plan unfolded.
By the time their salads were almost finished, Bal had noticed a slight tent in Ambrosius’s sweats and felt his own cock half hard and pushing against the front of his boxers. When he bent over the counter, claiming he needed to stretch his back, Ambrosius’s control finally snapped.
“Do you need something, love?” Amb asked, coming up behind him, gripping Bal’s hips tightly and grinding slightly against him.
“You know exactly what I need,” Bal said, pushing back against Amb who finally, finally, pushed his legs apart and settled between them.
“I think you need to learn what happens when you parade around in my boxers without my permission,” Ambrosius responded, inching his hand to Bal’s front, tracing the line of his cock through the fabric.
“Mmm, what happens?” Bal let out, voice sliding deeper as he shifted his hips into Amb’s touch.
“Why don’t we find out?” And Ballister couldn’t get another word out before Amb moved his hands to the waistband of his boxers and dragged them down to his ankles and over his feet, running his hands across the muscle as he did. And then Ambrosius was spreading him apart and licking, one fat stripe across his entrance before lapping at it.
Bal moaned, resting his cheek against the cool marble of the counter and arching into the touch, Amb’s hands holding him in place and massaging the muscles under his hands. He continued licking and sucking, loosening Bal enough until he felt the slippery, wet intrusion poking inside of him. And it felt so, so good that he gasped and writhed, not knowing whether to push back for more or simply take everything that Ambrosius was giving him.
“Please,” he moaned. “That’s perfect, Amb, please.”
Ambrosius didn’t let up. He kept spearing and licking, switching between fucking his hole with his tongue and tracing circles around the rim, drawing moan after moan from Bal beneath him. Until he stopped completely, standing up and walking out of the room towards the bedroom. “Stay still,” he said over his shoulder, not looking back a second time to see if Bal obeyed.
But he did. Bal didn’t move a muscle, panting across that kitchen counter and feeling the cool air brush against his hole, slick with Ambrosius’s spit. And he was rewarded when Ambrosius returned and the pop of a cap clicked through the room. “You look so good for me, waiting and exposed,” Ambrosius breathed into the space, running one hand along Bal’s flank, squeezing the muscle. He then brought his other hand to Bal’s waiting hole, spreading the slickness that coated his fingers across his entrance. “All of this, just for me.”
And then, without warning, Ambrosius pushed two of his fingers in, sheathing them inside Bal’s body, and Bal shook with the effort to not move, just moaning and clenching on the intrusion. And Ambrosius started thrusting, roughly adding in a third finger as he fucked Bal. All Ballister could do was moan and whimper, not caring drool started pooling on the counter beneath him. He closed his eyes and imagined what he looked like, naked and spread out over the counter, cock rutting against the edge for any sort of friction while Ambrosius stood fully clothed behind him.
“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this, moaning and desperate,” Ambrosius panted out, emphasizing his next words with a thrust right to Bal’s prostate. “I want to ruin you, fuck you until you’re crying for it, bent over this counter and destroyed.”
Bal’s eyes rolled back into his head, hips arching to push back onto Amb’s fingers. “Please, Amb. Take me.”
At last, Ambrosius pulled his fingers out, the sound of clothes ruffling slightly and then a slick slide where he must have added lube to his own cock. And then he was pressing into Bal in one long thrust, bottoming out at last. Bal moaned and squirmed at the burn, the overwhelming feeling of being full. And the only warning he got before Ambrosius started moving was the grip on his hips tightening. Then Ambrosius was fucking him mercilessly, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in, sliding Bal across the counter. Bal moaned, letting Ambrosius use his body, pounding into him, dragging his hips back in time with his thrusts and filling him over and over.
“Fuck, you’re so good for me, so tight for this,” Ambrosius groaned out, moaning when Bal clenched in response. Bal could only nod his head because, yes, he loved it, he needed it, he was Amb’s to use.
The next thrust had Amb shifting, angling towards Bal’s sweet spot, and hitting it dead on as he pushed inside. Bal could only moan, begging, “More, deeper, Amb, please,” as he lay there, legs spread and body rocking.
“You love that, don’t you, Bal. Wish you could see how well you take me, you’re so beautiful for me. Spread around my cock like you were made for it,” Ambrosius moaned and picked up his pace, hitting Bal’s prostate with every thrust. He moved one hand from Bal’s hip to his swollen entrance, tracing the sensitive flesh, leaving Bal gasping beneath him. And it was too much and not enough, Bal moaning in pleasure but wanting more, anything that Amb could give to him. And then Ambrosius leaned over him, lips latching onto the side of his neck and sucking the heated flesh into his mouth at the same time as he reached around his body to grip his cock and stroke it in time with his thrusts. And as he rubbed a finger over his leaking tip in the upstroke, as he bit down on the flesh of Bal’s neck, Bal came, arching and pushing back into the hips pistoning into him, clenching down. His cum shot across the counter, not caring that it coated the marble and would leave him with a sticky mess to clean up later.
“Ah- Amb,” he let out a broken gasp against the unrelenting assault on his prostate, Ambrosius fucking him through it, slamming into him on every thrust. His hips started to lose their rhythm, and his moans brushed across Bal’s neck.
“Fuck, Bal, so perfect,” he moaned out, hips finding their own rhythm as he shot closer to the edge. And then he fucked him once more, twice, and released into Bal with only a barely audible gasp of Bal’s name. Bal felt the heat of his cum spreading inside of him, filling him. Amb gave a few more deep thrusts, as if fucking his own essence into Bal, claiming him, and then collapsed on top of him, resting his forehead against Bal’s back.
“Fuck,” Amb breathed after a few minutes, shifting up and away, pulling his softening cock out of Bal in a wet glide and tucking it back into his sweats. Bal let out a whimper at the feeling, and pulled his aching body upright onto his unsteady feet.
“You’re insane,” Amb mumbled, wrapping his arms around Bal’s waist and kissing his forehead, not caring about the mess getting on his clothes.
“But you loved it,” Bal responded, burrowing into the crook of Amb’s neck, clinging to his back and not wanting to let go.
“Is that why you wanted salad for dinner? So it wouldn’t spoil while I fucked you like you deserved?” Ambrosius asked, pulling back to look at the sated expression on Bal’s face.
“Yeah.” Bal smiled sheepishly but didn’t remove his arms from where they lay around Ambrosius’s waist.
“You could’ve just asked instead of playing one of your little mind games.” As he said this, Ambrosius began to pull away, grabbing Bal’s hand to drag him into the bathroom down the hall.
“But this was more fun,” Bal whined, wobbling on his feet and thankful Ambrosius was the one that was dampening the cloth and cleaning them up.
“More fun for who? You? It was torture watching you strut around like that, thinking about how much I wanted to fuck you but not wanting to hurt you.” Ambrosius was wiping him down in smooth, soft strokes, bending Bal slightly over the counter to clean his slightly swollen hole.
Bal whimpered, hole clenching against the feeling as Ambrosius carefully cleaned him, before urging him back upright as he rinsed the cloth. “You could’ve fucked me the moment you stepped through the door,” Bal sighed, letting his eyes trail over the Amb’s rumpled (and now stained) clothes.
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” And Ambrosius had the audacity to wink before returning to the kitchen to clean up the mess on the counter. He returned and guided Bal into their room to put on some sweats, changing himself. He tossed the rag in the hamper as they returned to the kitchen.
“I’ll be waiting,” Bal smiled, already planning for the next time as he sat down, shifting at the discomfort that spiked up his spine. He loved that feeling, the sense that Ambrosius had claimed him, a reminder of who would always be waiting for him.
Ambrosius smiled, bringing over the plate with the chicken and the two salads, setting one before Bal with a fork. And as they ate, they talked, a deep sense of contentment that everything would be okay between them.