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“swwwweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeet… swwwwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeet… eeeeeemooooooo…… sweeeeeeeeeeeeee…”
Steven rests his elbows on the back of the couch that faces away from Joe, a thoroughly stumped expression on his face. His hands are folded, studying the man playing guitar a few feet away from him. The talkbox tube is lodged in his mouth, and he's been playing the same intro over and over again for about fifteen minutes with the bassline going again and again in the background.
“Joey,” Steven calls, in a light, sort of womanly drawl. “What on earth are you doing ?”
Joe gives him what some would consider an extremely salty look from just beneath his eyebrows, but Steven knows he's just focused. He waits patiently for Joe to respond to him, subjected to another few seconds of one electronic note held over the talkbox before Joe pulls the tube and clears his throat. “Something doesn't sound right,” he complains quietly. “I don't know. I can't figure it out. It's just not the right note.”
Steven clicks his tongue, eyes drifting to the floor.
“......ssssswwwwwweeeeeeeeeeeeeee……”
This is going to drive Steven nuts, but when Joe is locked in on a task, he doesn't stop until he's got it figured out. Who knows when that's gonna be ? Steven has to do something. He points his face towards the floor listening to the droning noise until he gets an idea. The couch creaks pitifully when he rises, and he skips his way around, tossing off his dangly shoulder garment before he stops right in front of Joe's mic. Somehow, he doesn't catch his attention until he wiggles the white tube, and Joe chokes.
“So what is this again ?” he asks quite innocently. Joe gives him the strangest expression at that, looking as though he's trying to understand the joke. He removes the tube again and sighs heavily. “It's a talkbox, Steven.” He waves the tube. “You make noise into it and play your voice on the guitar.”
Steven cocks his head like the stupidest dog alive. “Any noise ?”
Joe squints at him, recognizing that a plan has been formed, though he isn't sure what it is yet. He shoves the tube back into his mouth, fingers wiggling on the strings. “yyyeeeeeeesssssss, ssssteeeeeeeeeeeeeeveeeeeeeen…”
Steven nods, looking around in an almost uninterested manner. Then, before Joe can react much further, Steven's dropping to his knees and resting either hand on Joe's thighs. Once again, the tube is removed. “What the fuck are you doing ?” he mutters, eyebrows raised in alarm. Steven shrugs, staring up from below his waist with big, shining eyeballs that could never even dream of being up to any good. “Play your guitar, Joey.”
Joe's hesitant, but he eventually resumes what he was up to five minutes ago, tuning his guitar and readjusting the talkbox tube before absorbing himself in his quest for the perfect note again. Steven frowns when it resumes, but the way Joe's legs go completely tense when he unzips his jeans makes up for it. Despite the uncertainty and even the slight tremble in his fingers, Joe doesn't mess a single thing up. It turns Steven on, honestly, watching him play so effortlessly like that. He tugs Joe's tight ass jeans down to his mid-thigh, boxers following. His unprepared cock is only just twitching to life. Joe accepts his fate and holds his guitar slightly higher, still playing that goddamn intro. Steven's not even sure if he knows his pants are down.
“eeeeeemmmmooooooooo…… ttiiiooooooooo…… swwweeeeeeeesstEEVEEN-”
Steven chuckles, fingers wrapped around and rubbing the base of Joe's dick, as he presses light kisses to the interested tip. Joe's gasp when Steven licks the dribbling head sounds like a record scratch, and somehow his fingers continue to shake across the guitar as his cock hardens fully, Steven licking his lips.
“sssweeeeeh- swee- ssss- ssssttteeeeeeeev-”
Steven has no problem taking about three quarters of Joe's thick cock right down his gullet, but he's got to work himself down on the rest. Even then, he prefers to jerk that little bit he can barely reach. Salty precum drips right down his throat, which constricts around Joe as Steven mostly fakes all his choking. His other hand comes up to play with his balls, rubbing very gently in the certain rhythmic motion he knows gets the most sound out of Joe.
“ooooooooooooo…… oaaaaooohh ohhhhoh…… steeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeven-”
It sounds like he's sucking off an alien. Steven's muffled giggling transfers into vibrations that only make Joe whinier, the higher pitched buzzing making a noise akin to amp feedback. Joe's hands press on the strings, propelling the voice up and down. Steven's just lucky for the strap on the guitar- without it, Joe would've dropped it right through his skull.
There's a quiet slurping noise from between Joe's legs as Steven bobs his head, hands now creeping up his legs, one rubbing the inside of his thigh. Joe's not close enough, he decides, and not making nearly enough noise, despite the occasional shivering 8-bit whimper out of the talkbox. His next master plan involves a bit of spit and a tight place.
“stee- steev- ooooaaaaaaaa aaaaa aaaaaa aah-”
Joe's chest rises and falls rapidly as he focuses on his knees not buckling. Steven's wiggling a finger into him, and then another just to keep him on his toes. His moans crackle pitifully when Steven starts curling them and putting more effort into blowing his dick off. Steven's hard as a rock, but he'll take care of that later. Right now, he's focused on just how much the talkbox bends to his will. Joe squirms and groans, legs shivering as he white-knuckles his guitar, fingers strumming quickly at the strings. It's been barely a minute, and he's already overwhelmed- somehow, Steven's got the power to do that to him.
“steev steeev steev steeeeeev steeeeeev,” he pleads, every vocalization warped to bits by the guitar. It reminds Steven greatly of Joe in bed, when he gets just a little too hot to speak anymore. Fingers rubbing against his prostate, warm, wet mouth taking nearly his whole cock, tongue twitching against the underside- Joe's losing it, and would've fallen over if Steven hadn't been gripping him like he is. The noise is terrible, but Steven's getting a kick out of it, trying not to laugh too much and torture the poor boy further.
Finally, Joe can no longer stand it, and his hand shoots down to grab a fistful of Steven's hair, the other nearly cracking the guitar neck in half. The talkbox vibrates gutturally while Joe fucks Steven's mouth for barely a full second, and there's a long vocalization that sounds like a cry for “sssssteeeeeeeeeeeeveeeeeeeeeeen” emitting from the guitar. Steven squeezes his eyes shut and accepts Joe's entire load, a skill he's picked up from a few years of fucking with him. He pulls his fingers out of Joe's ass, and waits patiently until Joe's softening to pull away. The talkbox is creaking with every heaving breath, reminiscent of a kazoo.
Steven cracks up. “Take that out, Joe. Quit it. You're driving everyone nuts.” Joe throws the talkbox tube down to the floor, the thing so covered in saliva it's puddling on the concrete. Steven wrinkles his nose. “Don't catch an attitude. I was only helping.” Joe can't do much but rattle and glare at him, leaning to pull his pants up- though, with one peek downwards, he spots the tight bulge in Steven's pants, eyes growing dark. With one swift movement, he abandons his jeans and grabs Steven off the floor, dragging him around to the couch. “Get the fuck- bend over, and why don't you put that thing in your mouth this time ? C'mon, it's got my spit all over it. Just like a kiss.”