One moment, Joe’s rocking into Nicky with all of the intensity and focus that Nicky deserves when the next, Nicky is gasping in pain and shoving against him. Joe jerks back but Nicky lets out a sharp hiss so he stills himself, cock half way out while the rest of him is still buried deep inside of the pink and twitching rim.
Joe pets Nicky’s hips, a small comfort that helps him to relax before leaning over and kissing the backs of Nicolo’s shoulders.
“Have I hurt you, Hayati?”
Nicky brings a hand between his legs, thumbing at the newly healed skin stretched tight around Joe's dick. Strange...he could've sworn that-
“N-no I thought- I thought for a moment that maybe you had, but all is good now,” Nicky sighs, glancing over his shoulder at Joe with a wink. “Keep going, please.”
What kind of husband would Joe be, to deny him that?
*
The next time it happens, Joe is the first to notice.
They've been at it for days now, fucking non-stop in order to make up for lost time, and maybe that's the reason why it happens. They are on their sixth or seventh round (lost count sometime around the fourth,) and they haven't stopped going since.
Joe’s got Nicky folded over himself in the middle of their hotel room floor. He’s got both of his lover’s legs thrown over his shoulders, pounding Nicky into the carpet with abandon when suddenly he lets out that soft little sound of pain again, Joe can’t help but freeze mid-thrust.
“Why’d you stop?” Nicky groans, cracking an eye open.
“Nicky,” Joe gasps, glancing down to where their bodies meet. “You have…you’re…”
“I’m what?”
“Prolapsed,” Joe says, eyes wide, watching as the inner lining of Nicky’s hole unfolds and hugs itself around his cock in a warm heat that pulses with a heartbeat of its own. It is the red color of viscera, somehow contained by the internal lining of his rectum. The folds of it remind Joe of a rosebud, clenched tight against the harshness of winter.
Joe can’t help himself, he pets at the slick tissues slipping out of his husband’s ass with a quiet sound of awe.
“Joe,” Nicky says with a shudder, face screwed up slightly from the feel of his body healing itself around Joe’s cock. His asshole clenches around Joe with a newly healed tightness, his dick twitches with interest, once again filling itself out after softening from the initial bite of pain.
It is a strange sensation, but a part of Nicolo is…starting to enjoy it.
“Nicky-“
“Hayati, please, continue.”
“But-“
Nicky grinds himself up on Joe’s dick, gasping at the sensitivity. He can feel that part of his body begin to open Into a sluggish gape once again, and it thrills him.
“Please,” Nicky moans, wrapping his arms around Joe’s neck and bringing him down for a kiss. “Keep going.”
His body has begun to heal itself again, squeezing down on Joe’s cock like it was made for him. Joe can’t help the moan that escapes him, he presses a kiss to Nicky’s brow, then the mark at the side of his cheek and then finally, on the fine lips of his mouth, just as red as the rosebud forming where their two bodies meet.
Joe pants a question against his mouth. “Are you sure?”
“Yes," Nicky gasps, rolling his hips. "Yes. Please. Continue.”
What kind of husband would Joe be, to deny him that?
Fill: Nicky/Joe Anal Prolapse
One moment, Joe’s rocking into Nicky with all of the intensity and focus that Nicky deserves when the next, Nicky is gasping in pain and shoving against him. Joe jerks back but Nicky lets out a sharp hiss so he stills himself, cock half way out while the rest of him is still buried deep inside of the pink and twitching rim.
Joe pets Nicky’s hips, a small comfort that helps him to relax before leaning over and kissing the backs of Nicolo’s shoulders.
“Have I hurt you, Hayati?”
Nicky brings a hand between his legs, thumbing at the newly healed skin stretched tight around Joe's dick. Strange...he could've sworn that-
“N-no I thought- I thought for a moment that maybe you had, but all is good now,” Nicky sighs, glancing over his shoulder at Joe with a wink. “Keep going, please.”
What kind of husband would Joe be, to deny him that?
*
The next time it happens, Joe is the first to notice.
They've been at it for days now, fucking non-stop in order to make up for lost time, and maybe that's the reason why it happens. They are on their sixth or seventh round (lost count sometime around the fourth,) and they haven't stopped going since.
Joe’s got Nicky folded over himself in the middle of their hotel room floor. He’s got both of his lover’s legs thrown over his shoulders, pounding Nicky into the carpet with abandon when suddenly he lets out that soft little sound of pain again, Joe can’t help but freeze mid-thrust.
“Why’d you stop?” Nicky groans, cracking an eye open.
“Nicky,” Joe gasps, glancing down to where their bodies meet. “You have…you’re…”
“I’m what?”
“Prolapsed,” Joe says, eyes wide, watching as the inner lining of Nicky’s hole unfolds and hugs itself around his cock in a warm heat that pulses with a heartbeat of its own. It is the red color of viscera, somehow contained by the internal lining of his rectum. The folds of it remind Joe of a rosebud, clenched tight against the harshness of winter.
Joe can’t help himself, he pets at the slick tissues slipping out of his husband’s ass with a quiet sound of awe.
“Joe,” Nicky says with a shudder, face screwed up slightly from the feel of his body healing itself around Joe’s cock. His asshole clenches around Joe with a newly healed tightness, his dick twitches with interest, once again filling itself out after softening from the initial bite of pain.
It is a strange sensation, but a part of Nicolo is…starting to enjoy it.
“Nicky-“
“Hayati, please, continue.”
“But-“
Nicky grinds himself up on Joe’s dick, gasping at the sensitivity. He can feel that part of his body begin to open Into a sluggish gape once again, and it thrills him.
“Please,” Nicky moans, wrapping his arms around Joe’s neck and bringing him down for a kiss. “Keep going.”
His body has begun to heal itself again, squeezing down on Joe’s cock like it was made for him. Joe can’t help the moan that escapes him, he presses a kiss to Nicky’s brow, then the mark at the side of his cheek and then finally, on the fine lips of his mouth, just as red as the rosebud forming where their two bodies meet.
Joe pants a question against his mouth. “Are you sure?”
“Yes," Nicky gasps, rolling his hips. "Yes. Please. Continue.”
What kind of husband would Joe be, to deny him that?