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oral fixation

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They should have learned early on that the internet is a dangerous place, but Kevin needs to know everything and Joe's terrible at self-preservation and Nick's just a glutton for punishment.

So when Joe says, "There's a whole website full of women who want to sit on your face," Nick manages to catch himself before he chokes on a mouthful of Diet Coke.

"They want to what?" he says instead, tucking his legs underneath him on Joe's bed.

"They want to sit on your face, dude," Joe says, flicking his tongue for emphasis. "They are ladies."


"And they would like for you to, you know, pleasure them. Orally." Joe shrugs. "I'm kind of tempted to go on there and tell them that you'd have absolutely no idea what to do with a vagina if one walked up and slapped you in the face, but that would kill their buzz."

Ordinarily, Nick would launch himself on top of Joe and start a battle for supremacy. But he's been popping terrible hard-ons lately and he's thinking about going down on girls, about Joegoing down on girls, about how much he'd like to go down on Joe and okay, yeah, Nick's just going to sit quietly with his hands folded until both his outrage and his erection dissipate.

Joe reads some of the message board posts aloud in a breathy falsetto until he's laughing too hard to continue, and Nick wonders how well he and Kevin would sell on their own if they just conveniently left Joe by the side of the road in Milwaukee.


Joe keeps it up for the next few days; he comments on Nick's fat mouth when he's eating cereal, asks Nick how fast he thinks he can move his tongue when they're on their way to the dentist, reminds Nick that he can only hold his breath for thirty-seven seconds and he should probably breathe through his nose more often.

They're lying in bed later -- Nick's hand skating along Joe's ribs, Joe absently petting Nick's hair, both of them trying to work up the nerve to initiate further activity -- when Joe says, "We should probably check and see if girl-juice is going to put you in a diabetic coma."

Nick sits straight up and immediately wishes he hadn't, because this thingthey're doing together is so new and unfamiliar and fragile that he's afraid the slightest disturbance in the equilibrium will destroy it forever. He's bored and lonely and Joe is warm; he knows how to kiss, too, and he always leaves Nick's mouth feeling swollen and used when they part ways to jerk off in separate bathrooms.

"Your complete lack of knowledge about the female anatomy is unnerving," Nick says, and he's stupidly relieved when Joe's hand comes up to slip beneath the hem of his t-shirt. He lies back on the bed and feels Joe's palm spread flat against his back. "Unless girls shoot out Hostess cupcakes when they come, I think I'm probably good."

Joe snorts. "Different kind of cream, Nicky," he says, tucking his face into the bend where Nick's shoulder meets his neck and sucking on the hot, soft skin he finds there; that's Nick's cue to thread his fingers through Joe's hair and haul him up, pressing their mouths together and corkscrewing his tongue past Joe's lips.

Joe sinks into it eagerly, licking his way around the inside of Nick's mouth and tracing the tip of his tongue along the soft, ambiguous area where cheeks meet lips. He applies just the right amount of pressure and rests his hands in all the right places, fingertips grazing along the front pocket of Nick's jeans. Joe kisses like he's got a PhD in making out.

Nick knows that he kisses like a boy who's petrified of disappointing his brother, but that's what he is, so he tries not to think too hard about that.

Joe's really into his mouth today, it seems; he's nipping gently at Nick's bottom lip, tugging and releasing and soothing the bite marks with his tongue. The blood that's not rushing to Nick's cock is flooding into his face, filling in the spaces between the indentations that Joe's making with his teeth.

When Joe pulls back, he looks pleased with his handiwork.

"I know what they mean," he says quietly, dragging the pad of his thumb across Nick's abused bottom lip. "Your mouth, man. It's so fucking.... ugh. I can't even."

Nick ignores Joe's inability to form a complete sentence and reaches for the fly of his jeans.

Joe's cock is flush-red and heavy in Nick's hand, and his sharp intake of breath when Nick begins to stroke is both sexy and gratifying. He likes knowing that he can completely undo Joe like this, get him straining beneath Nick's touch and babbling nonsense as Nick explores the hot, smooth skin with his fingers.

Joe is mouthing at Nick's jawline, biting without pressure and kissing without tongue, and when he pulls up and asks, "Can you -- can you, like, use your mouth?" Nick surges forward to kiss him before sliding off the bed and onto the floor.

He's never done this before, but Nick Jonas has never once stepped down from a challenge.

He settles down on his knees and tugs his shirt off, because Joe can't even keep his room clean; Nick certainly doesn't expect him to have tidy, controlled orgasms. He looks up expectantly, studying Joe from this new angle, tracing the hard lines of his abdominal muscles and examining the sparse black hair on his thighs. His cock looks huge from this angle, jutting out from a thatch of dark hair, and he's staring down at Nick with undisguised lust.

Joe is a man, Nick realizes with sudden, alarming clarity, and Nick is about to suck his dick.

He tugs his bottom lip between his teeth -- practiced, subconscious gesture of nervousness and uncertainty -- and is halfway ready to stand up and get Joe off with his hand when Joe groans and clenches his fists.

"Gotta have your mouth, Nicky," he says, strangled and desperate, and his hips punch forward. He pushes the head of his cock past Nick's pursed lips, and Nick yelps with surprise around his unexpected mouthful of Joe's dick. He tries to put his hands on Joe's hips like he's seen in the movies he's studied on his laptop, but Joe bats him away and continues thrusting shallowly into Nick's mouth.

"Just -- just stay down there," he chokes out, grabbing at Nick's wrists and holding them above his head. "Let -- let me -- "

Nick feels the head of Joe's cock press against the inside of his cheek and push out, distorting his expression, and Joe lets out a noise that Nick's never before heard in nature.


Nick lets his wrists go limp.

"Jesus, yes," Joe grits out, releasing his grip on Nick's wrists. "Such a good boy, Nicky. So good." He drops his hands to card through Nick's curls, clutching tight at the back of Nick's head, and pushes Nick's head forward in time with his thrusting hips.

Nick had planned on being an active participant in his first-ever blowjob, but there's something about Joe not-really-forcing his dick past Nick's spit-slicked lips that makes Nick go even harder in his jeans. Joe's using his mouth, going deeper with each jerk, and Nick -- Nick wants to sit there and take it.

He hollows out his cheeks and sucks on Joe's next thrust, and he's rewarded with Joe's hands pulling even tighter at his hair; Joe's cock nudges at the back of his throat, and Nick almost gags. His mouth is full of spit and he can't breathe properly and Joe's going to give him a bald spot and his lips feel over-puffy and used and the delicate skin at the corners of his mouth feels stretched beyond the breaking point.

He's never been harder in his entire life.

"I'm gonna -- " Joe gasps, and Nick tilts his head back to let Joe's dick slip out of his mouth. Joe's hips keep pounding in the same rhythm, the head of his cock pressing against Nick's sealed lips, and when he finally comes, it spatters all over Nick's mouth and cheek. Joe is groaning and stuttering, mindlessly rubbing his cock all over Nick's face, shooting the final few pulses right against Nick's lips.

Nick darts his tongue out to taste; it's salty and tacky and then he comes, embarrassingly, all over his pants.

Joe laughs, swipes his fingers through the mess on Nick's lips, and saunters over to the bathroom. Nick rather sincerely hopes he returns with a warm washcloth and the desire to climb into bed and fall into a satisfied, fucked-out daze.