If Tuturro was the type to worry about this, he might say fooling around with Mike isn’t such a bright idea. But he’s not, so Tuturro has no problem about drunkenly stumbling into his room and tossing Mike down on the bed, before crawling right on top of him, chasing the taste of tequila on Mike’s tongue.
“This is a bad idea,” Mike laughs as Tuturro moves his attention to Mike’s jaw, the tendons in his throat. “Bad, bad, so bad.”
“Wanna stop?” Tuturro asks, absentmindedly, more focused on licking the salt off Mike’s skin--he’d missed some earlier, back when he was teaching Mike how to do body shots properly, and he’d like to fix that now, his tongue lapping up the salt until he can’t taste anything but Mike’s skin and his own spit.
“Nooo,” Mike insists, clutching at Tuturro’s waist and shoulders, “No, no, c’mon, let’s go--”
Tuturro can’t help but laugh at this, and Mike drags him in for another kiss, his mouth hot and pushy, just like how Tuturro likes it, how he likes Mike, eager and pushy and right there, right where Tuturro wants him to be.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Tuturro says as Mike breaks away from the kiss to pull the shirt off his head, tossing it away into a corner of the room, before he turns his attention to pulling off Tuturro’s clothes, his hands skimming up Tuturro’s chest, and yeah, Tuturro could get used to having Mike’s hands on him.
“Come on,” Mike whines, and Tuturro grins as he sits up.
“Lift your hips up for me,” he commands, and Mike does what he says, lifting up those slim hips, where the jeans are already slipping down, so that Tuturro can tug them off, and the boxers too, right off Mike’s skinny white legs, Tuturro wrapping them all up in a loose ball and tossing it somewhere behind his back, and then getting back to the matter at hand--heh--which is currently about driving Mike here out of his fucking head.
“Oh, Jesus,” Mike groans, his head falling back on the mattress with a gratifying thump when Tuturro slides down to wrap a hand around Mike’s cock and start working his mouth and tongue over the slit, the vein on the underside of his cock. “Fuck, Johnny.”
Tuturro hums around his cock, which gets Mike cursing at him--boy’s got a mouth like a sailor, damn, and his Spanish is clearly coming along better than Tuturro realized--and Tuturro sets in, making it wet and sloppy, and Mike likes it that way, if the curses and encouragement are any indication.
“Johnny, come the fuck on and fuck me,,” Mike snaps, and Tuturro finally lifts his head, wiping at his mouth and chin.
“Yeah?” he asks, but he’s already moving back up, scrambling for the lube and condoms he keeps in the bedside cabinet.
“Yes, Jesus,” Mike says, and he’s got his arm thrown over his face, but there’s enough light coming in from the windows that Johnny can make out his face, his red mouth, the bump of his nose.
“Hey, c’mon,” Tuturro says, pulling Mike’s arm away from his face. “None of that now, I wanna see you.”
Mike grins up at him, and maybe it’s just the darkness of the room, but there’s something that feels a little ragged to his smile. “You wanna see me, huh?” he asks, voice husky and rough, and the sound of it brings an answering smile to Tuturro’s face.
“Yeah, I wanna see you,” he says, leaning in to brush his lips against Mike’s, even as he continues to talk. “You’re nice to look at, Mikey, ain’t nobody tell you that before?”
He feels Mike’s lips turning up in a smile against his, and Mike nips at his lower lip before teasing, “You just want to look?”
Tuturro laughs at this, and Mike beams up at him, bright and happy and yeah, this was an excellent idea, Tuturro’s glad he finally went for it after weeks of innuendo and flirting. “I’m gonna do more than look,” Tuturro promises, letting his voice go low, and he keeps to his word, sucking bruises into Mike’s fair skin while he works Mike open with his slick fingers. Mike’s incredibly responsive, pushing back against Tuturro’s fingers, gasping and moaning until he finally says, jerkily, “Enough--enough, I’m ready.”
If Tuturro’s hands are a little shaky as he’s putting the condom on, it’s dark enough that Mike probably can’t tell, and soon enough he’s pushing Mike’s legs apart and up and settling between them, guiding his cock into Mike, pressing in slowly.
Mike gasps through it, eyes squeezed shut, and Tuturro doesn’t take his eyes off Mike’s face, watching carefully until he bottoms out, and then he drops his head, overwhelmed for a moment.
He feels Mike’s hands running carefully down his back, and doesn’t move until Mike’s had time to adjust--it took a while to open Mike up, so while he hasn’t asked specifically, Tuturro figures it’s been a while for Mike, getting fucked like this.
“All right,” Mike says breathlessly, starting to move his hips restlessly. “All right, move, go on--”
Tuturro doesn’t need a second invite, and he starts rocking his hips in and out, keeping it slow and steady, sloppily kissing Mike until they don’t even have the coordination for that, and they just breathe into each other’s mouths, their lips brushing every so often.
It’s good, it’s all so fucking good that Tuturro can’t think of anything else, can’t focus on anything except Mike, the feel of him clenching around Tuturro’s cock, his sweat-slick skin, his red, gasping mouth--
“Johnny,” Mike slurs, looking dazed, “Johnny, fuck--”
Mike clenches down on his cock again and Johnny’s gone, thrusting into Mike once, twice, and shuddering as he comes. He manages to keep from collapsing totally on top of Mike, instead reaching down with a hand to help bring Mike off, his fingers tangling briefly with Mike’s as they both jerk him off, Mike coming with a low moan, his come sticky and hot on Johnny’s fingers.
He manages to pull out and collapse on his side next to Mike, the two of them lying there, sticky and sweaty and trying to catch their breath. Tuturro glances at Mike and likes what he sees, how Mike looks every bit as wrecked as Tuturro wanted him to be, his hair wild and his face flushed, panting up at the ceiling with those blue eyes gone wide and dazed.
Tuturro leans in to give a friendly nip to Mike’s shoulder with his teeth, saying, “Hang on, I’ll get a washcloth to clean us up.”
He does as much, pushing himself off the bed and heading over to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. His head’s still spinning a little as he comes back to the bed with the wet cloth so he can clean the both of them up a little,at least enough so they won’t be gross and disgusting come morning.
Mike looks a little less out of it now, blinking up at Tuturro and asking, “Should I...I can leave if--”
Tuturro just rolls his eyes at him, tossing the washcloth down on the floor--he can just get it in the morning. “Relax, dude,” he says, getting back into bed and slipping in under the sheets. “I’m not making you do the walk of shame back to your room. Just stay here tonight.”
To make his point, he drags the sheets up and over Mike too, and Mike seems to take him at his word, not making a move for the door, just settling in under the sheets.
Tuturro shifts a little closer, his eyes drifting shut--he’d like to get some surfing in come morning, maybe take Mike out with him if Mike’s up for it. And if they can get past everyone else without anyone wondering why Mike’s coming out of Tuturro’s bedroom in the morning, or why he’s got all those bite marks on him--frankly, Tuturro’s not counting on it, but it’s worth a shot.
“This isn’t,” Mike starts, hesitant, “--this isn’t going to cause problems, right?”
He sounds so unsure, and even if Tuturro’s half-asleep at this point, he knows what to say here. “You kidding? We’ll be fine, trust me.” On instinct, he leans in to rest his forehead against Mike’s, murmuring, “Relax, it’ll all be fine.”
It takes Mike a second to respond, but he’s finally saying, “Yeah, Johnny, I believe you.”
“Good,” Tuturro says, smug, and pulls Mikey into a loose embrace, not letting up until Mike’s relaxing into the touch, muscles unwinding and his breaths turning steady and even. It’s the last thing Tuturro remembers before he falls asleep.