Everyone was gone. Everyone but Chris, who was still on the floor near the television, and Jeff because...well, it was his house.

Jeff's in the chair, like a king holding court, a glass of beer in one hand. His legs are open in a Jared worthy sprawl, enough space between his knees to crawl into.

His eyes are closed, probably relishing the quiet. They could be a rowdy bunch. Chris sits up and finishes pulling off his shirt, which had gotten tugged and pulled and buttons broken in the rough housing, unbuttons his jeans. His cock is stirring just from the thoughts in his head.

He clears his throat to get Jeff's attention, rewarded with the opening of an eye and the raising of an eyebrow. Chris meets his eyes and holds them as he drops to all fours to crawl across the floor, and up between those legs.

Jeff's cock is warming to the unspoken desire as Chris rises up between his legs, his hands unzipping Jeff and fondling his cock to hardness. He doesn't ask permission, doesn't need anything more than that look in Jeff's eye, to drop his gaze, open his mouth, and take Jeff in.