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-------------------------------------------------------------------- "Boston Birthday " Starring Chris Evans and Chris Pratt --------------------------------------------------------------------
Author's Note: This story takes place in July 2021, in Boston Massachusetts.
Special thanks to Patrick and Emilio for nominating these two characters, and to Jeff D for helping develop the Boston Bar concept.
~
"This is...a lot fancier than I was expecting." Chris Pratt looked around at the posh bar that they'd walked into. They'd walked past a fine dining establishment on the ground floor and taken an elevator up to the top floor. Now they were standing in a room decked out to look like an old lodge, complete with a fireplace and big stuffed armchairs. He looked over to his friend but only got a wink as a response. "Evans - you didn't take me somewhere else as a joke, right?"
Chris Evans shook his head, a chuckle rolling out of his throat. "No - be patient." Turning his attention to the bar, his smile grew big and bright, reaching out to shake the bartender's hand. "Hey Emilio, how're doing?"
"Doing well, Mr. Evans, thank you. And you?"
"Can't complain." He watched Pratt's reaction as the bartender pressed an old-looking brass button, causing a large wooden door to slide open. Stepping through, they found themselves in a small but cozy wood-paneled room which featured a large mirror on one wall, another door, and a counter which showed another room full of shelves, large wooden boxes lining the shelves. "Patrick! How's it hanging?" Chris leaned across the bar, giving the other man a hug.
"To the left," the cute blonde responded with a grin.
"Ah, so the usual?" Chris winked as he began emptying his pockets into a large wooden box that Patrick had placed onto the counter, noting that Pratt began doing the same. Sitting down on one of the chairs, he began untying his shoes, placing them into the box as well.
As Pratt began removing his boots, Evans reached down and removed his belt and then began unbuttoning his shirt, folding it and laying it on top of his shoes in the box. By the time he was undoing his pants, Pratt's shirt was off as well, leaving his chest bare...with the exception of leather straps that crossed his chest and wrapped up over his shoulders. Stepping out of his pants, Evans placed them in the box as well and waited for Pratt to follow suit. Closing the box, he pressed a few buttons to create a combination, followed by a button with a lock icon. "See you in a bit, Patrick."
"Yes sir - have fun, Mr. Evans." Patrick gave him a smile and a wink, then turned to the other Chris. "You too, Mr. Pratt."
"Thanks, Patrick." Pratt gave a small wave, feeling a little awkward being dressed the way he was while the other man was wearing a suit.
"Oh - and Mr. Evans..." The blonde man's grin grew bigger. "Have a happy birthday." His head tilted towards the door.
"Thank you. Maybe..." Evans licked his lips a little, giving a smoldering look. "...maybe you can help me blow out a candle later." He noticed the attendee's stance shift slightly in anticipation.
"Yes sir - gladly."
Evans placed his hand at Pratt's lower back, guiding him over to the large mirror. They stood for a moment, adjusting their gear.
Besides a harness, Pratt wore a pair of pants, wrist cuffs, and boots...all in matching black leather. Evans had opted for a green harness - where Pratt's stretched across his chest, Evans' had straps that came around along his ribs, meeting the two straps coming down from his shoulders, joining at a large metal ring in the center of his chest. Instead of pants, he just wore a pair of grey briefs with a broad black waistband and green piping that matched the color of the harness, a stripe of green running down and accentuating his bulge. Grey sneakers finished the outfit. "Not bad." He reached up, his finger running over the large silver studs in Pratt's harness.
"Maybe I'll wear it to the next SuperBowl party. Actually, I might borrow this." He tugged lightly at the green straps of Evans' harness. "It's the Seahawks' colors." Laughter met Evans' eye roll response.
"You're up for another get-together?" Evans' crotch began filling out as memories of the last party came to mind.
"Oh yeah. And we'll see who wins the bet this time...and see if we can get Jake to show up this time, since he and Jake are still a thing. He missed out on the fun last time." Pratt paused, seeing a shadow cross Evans' features. "What's up?"
Evans realized he was staring into the mirror, lost in thought. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts of Jake and Tom...and Seb. "Nothing. Yeah, it'll be neat if Jake comes. But for right now - a different party awaits, my good man." With a big smile, he opened the door for Pratt.
Pratt stepped inside and stopped, taking in the sight of the place. Evans grinned, clapping his hand to Pratt's shoulder. Pratt swallowed, finally able to make words after a moment. "Damn brother - happy birthday."
"I see you brought the cake." Evans reached down to grope Pratt's rear.
"We'll see." Evans laughed as an elbow tapped into his ribs.
"You want a tour...or just discover the place one room at a time?"
"There's more?" He turned to see a big wicked grin on Evans' face. "Oh shit. One room at a time then." He felt a hand on his back again, nudging him forward.
The room was large, with leather couches and chairs scattered around. A bar in the back served drinks, although most of the guests were more occupied with other pressing matters.
"Is that...?"
"Shh. It's rude to point. Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"
"Yeah, fuck you - I don't think anything my mother taught me applies here." Both men laughed as they made their way to the bar - Evans sensed that Pratt might need a drink to loosen up while getting his bearings. Evans nodded to the guy that Pratt had asked about, noting that Matt Damon had good taste, a cute stud on his knees between Matt's spread legs, a tongue lapping at his large balls. Matt had his hand wrapped around the back of the guy's head.
"Yeah, that's it - get in there. Lick those bastards good."
Evans ordered two whiskeys - the pair leaned against the bar, looking around the room. "What do you think?"
"I uh...I'm surprised you ever leave Boston."
"Ha!"
"Now I know why Tom wouldn't stop talking about this place. Like, nonstop."
"He is...energetic." Evans smirked at Pratt's knowing look. "He enjoyed it, huh?"
"Really? Between Hemsworth's party every year and those parties that he and Tovey go to back in London?"
"Oh - the ones with the collars?"
"Mmmmm. Yeah. Those are fun...both parties. Damn." Evans reached down to tug at his cock. "So how'd you get little skippy to stop talking?"
Pratt looked over with a big grin. "Same way I always get him to shut up..." He reached down to grab his crotch. "...give his mouth something better to do."
"Ha!!!" The two men laughed as they downed what was left of their drinks. "Okay, you look like you're relaxed and ready."
"Oh yeah - let's get your birthday started." The pair began walking around, checking out the scene.
"A month late?" Evans laughed again as Pratt rolled his eyes. The banter was interrupted as they looked towards an upraised voice.
"You call that a fuck?!" Pratt stared and blinked, surprised.
"What the...?"
"You either put some of that muscle of yours into it, or I'm finding someone else who can actually fuck a hole." Steve Carell was laid out on his back, a big broad stud who Pratt almost recognized holding Steve's legs up in the air, thrusting his hips like crazy. The top's body was drenched in sweat, looking nearly exhausted as he worked to try and please the demanding bottom who continued berating him.
"I had no...idea..." He winced at some of the insults Steve threw at the football player before a foot pushed the guy away. A hand waved another hunk nearby over who stepped between Steve's legs and slammed in.
"Yeah, that's it. What're those thing you guys slam into on the field during practice?"
"Umm...the tackling dummies?"
"Yeah - those. You fucking slam me as hard as you slam those damn things. Actually - harder than that. See if you can do better." Steve looked over at the guy he'd shoved off. "Nixon - call me. We'll work on your fucking."
"Yes sir." The football player slinked away with a sly grin, his hard cock bobbing in the air as he searched for another hole.
"Yeah..." Evans ran a thumb over his chin. "Steve's a, uh...demanding bottom. Poor Hemsworth didn't even cut it for him."
"Shit - are you serious?"
"Yep. Pushed him off, called him the 'god of slumber fucks'. Hiddleston finished the job."
"Hiddle...what?"
Evans looked over with a smirk. "You should try it. Stretch first though."
The two friends made their way from room to room, observing as guys from the Boston area were exploring different forms of debauchery. Ted Danson was being worshiped as a silver fox, a half dozen twinks tending to his leather-adorned body with their tongues. Damon's old buddy Ben Affleck was being whipped, his body pressed up against the one-way glass surrounding the penthouse club. Actors and sports figures filled the place...and each other.
"Yo, Chris!" They turned to see Mark Wahlberg on one end of a spitroast - on the other end was a huge guy that looked like a wall of muscle and padding. - Pratt guessed at least 300 pounds worth.
"Go Pats!" The big guy grinned at Evans' greeting, slamming into the guts of the guy in the middle, giving Evans a thumbs up.
They settled down on a couch and Evans' legs were quickly spread, someone rushing out the words 'happy birthday' before swallowing his length. "Fuck Cam...you're one of the best." His head rolled back, enjoying the blowjob. Pratt found himself on the receiving end of being sucked as well, taking a moment to figure out which Red Sox player was licking his balls.
It wasn't long before the two sports studs were back on their feet and walking away in search of another 'meal', swallowing the last of Evans' and Pratt's loads. Pratt looked down to see his still-hard cock disappear between a beautiful set of ass cheeks, thankful for the blue pill that Evans had recommended earlier. Next to him, a bearded cutie with curly hair had climbed up into Evans' lap, sinking down onto his thick cock with a happy sigh.
"Happy birthday Chris."
"Hey TJ." Pratt squinted, thinking the guy looked familiar before finally recognizing him from that old "Bones" show that had been on the air. His attention returned to the ebony cheeks clapping down on his thighs.
"Chris."
The tall stud leaned back, curling his 6'9" frame down to kiss Pratt. "Tristan." He chuckled as he realized Pratt didn't recognize him...not really caring as he ground down on Pratt's member, loving how it thickened out at the base. "Celtics."
"Ohhh...mmmmm." Pratt brought his hands around to grab the large chest as he thrust up into the basketball player's hole.
Later, he was moaning as he was another load lighter, some cute red-head licking his cock clean of the cum he'd deposited in Tristan's ass, along with the athlete's cream that had run down onto Pratt's nuts. Evans was getting similar treatment from the red-head's twin, hungry little hunks that were hoovering up every bit of juice.
Pratt groaned as the guy greedily sucked on his rod, the guy's bearded cheeks pulling in as he worked to not miss a drop. He nuzzled his face against Pratt's crotch and thighs as he waited for his twin to get Evans off. Standing up, they gave each other a high five and walked off.
Pratt worked on catching his breath, noting with amusement that one of the twins was climbing up into a sling while the other was pushed face down onto a couch, their holes being stuffed by two older guys, one wearing a hot short-trimmed grey beard that set off his dark green eyes.
He sensed he was being watched and turned to see Evans staring at him, blue eyes twinkling with amusement and lust. "Ready for something interesting?"
"Interesting? What the hell was this?" The two laughed, Evans standing and holding out a hand to help Pratt up to his feet. Still holding his friend's hand, he led him through more rooms, Pratt's his mouth watering at the visions that his eyes were feasting on.
"Meet Quasi."
Pratt found himself in a room lined with large crosses and X's, guys strapped to them as they were tortured or pleasured...or both. Swings and slings and hoops hung from the ceiling. And in the middle...what looked like a large pommel horse, made of leather, with boards sticking out on either side and metal rings attached to the floor underneath. He swallowed, his pulse quickening.
A hand stroked his lower back. "It is my birthday, after all..."
"It...uh...yeah, it is your birthday, pal." Chris blinked a few more times.
"This was Tom's favorite part. Surprised he didn't mention it." The hand on Pratt's lower back slid down, Evans' finger sliding in between Pratt's butt cheeks.
Pratt's eyes closed halfway and he let out a half-purr half-moan as the finger stroked up and down across his rear entrance. "He...mmmm...he said something about being strapped down. But he was also riding my dick, so I was a little distracted."
"Want to try it out? Unless, you know..." Evans shrugged, grinning like a horny devil. "...you're saying Tom's the stronger swinger." Pratt looked over, an eyebrow cocked over eyes that were half-glaring. "He did manage to last more than five minutes with Carell." Evans shrugged again.
"I'll give it a chance. But just because it's your birthday. Not about to try and compete with that little scamp on who can be the bigger bottom."
The hand spread out and took hold of Pratt's rump. "He does have an amazing ass...but I think you've got the bigger bottom."
"Oh my...you know what the fuck I meant. I hate you." Pratt grinned as he kicked his boots off. Peeling his pants down his thick legs, he handed them to Evans for safe-keeping.
"You're putting the boots back on?"
"Yeah - for traction."
"Fuck - that's...hot." Evans' grin grew as Pratt stepped up to the device.
He placed his hand on Pratt's back and bent him over, bringing his arms out to each side and strapping them down at the wrist. Kneeling, he shifted the large legs apart so that they were spread into a large V and tied Pratt's ankles in place, then set the leather pants down on the floor below. Pratt turned his head to watch as Evans walked over to a shelf and grabbed a large bottle, squeezing it to release a large amount of clear liquid into his hand, drops spilling to the ground. Smiling wickedly as he strutted back over, Evans ran his hand up and down Pratt's spread crack, lubing it up before pushing two fingers inside, earning a yelp from his friend. His wrist turned, working the tight hole up, feeling muscle and hair brush against his hand. A few minutes later he had a third finger working in and out, the muscles of Pratt's backside relaxing.
"Alright boys, who wants firsts?"
"Huh? Wait - it's your birthday. Not theirs..." Pratt's words trailed away as Evans came around, standing in front of him, pulling down the pouch of his grey briefs. His cock flopped out, half hard as it was still recovering from the earlier shenanigans. Taking hold of the base, he ran his meat across Pratt's lips.
"Yep. And the birthday boy wants to see a train ride." He winked down at his friend. "Sound fun?"
"Choo choo, motherfucker." Pratt chuckled as he took the head of Evans' thick member in between his lips and began suckling on it.
"Atta boy." Evans looked up, catching another Red Sox player's eye, Evans nodded him over. "Hey, J.D. All aboard!" His fingers ran through Pratt's reddish-brown curls as the right-fielder stepped up, took hold of Pratt's hips, and began sliding home.
Several minutes later, Pratt grunted as the baseball player shot a load into his guts, pulled out...and was replaced by another cock that rammed inside. He remembered nodding when Evans asked if he wanted to know who was fucking him but he soon lost track, somewhere around the seventh or eighth guy. Names continued reaching his ears, even as Evans pulled his rigid pole out from Pratt's mouth and stepped away, taking a break as someone else moved forward and slid their length down his throat. He'd have to ask Evans later and look up the sports and celebrity figures online - hell, he couldn't even see the roster of guys taking advantage of his ass since he couldn't turn his head and body far enough to look. He did recognize Matt Damon's voice at one point, that distinctive Boston accent coming through as he told Pratt he was going to "breed his bastahd hole", right before depositing more cream into Pratt's tunnel. One of the New Kids on the Block...Jordan maybe...blasted their nut down his throat before John Slattery began face-fucking Pratt, going on about how he'd been eyeing Pratt on the Marvel film set.
He wasn't even sure if Evans would be able to remember the full list later as yet another guy emptied his balls and was replaced by someone else. Full to the brim, Pratt's hole was leaking cum in between tops.
There was so much cream in his guts that when a new guy would slide in, it would gush out around their shaft. Jizz streamed down the inside of his thighs, the hair matted down. His legs were so wet that he looked like he'd ran a marathon...but only from the waist down. Well, and the neck up. The juices of over a dozen men were stuck in his beard, his throat so coated that he felt he'd be burping up jizz bubbles for the next week.
After another guy's cum was splashing his mouth and tongue, Pratt slurped on it greedily as it pulled away. Instead of being replaced by more man meat, he found himself staring into Evans' bold blue eyes, a hand caressing his cheek. "Having a good time?"
"Fuuuuuuck." Pratt's green eyes closed for a moment, his head rocking as some stud thrusted away behind him. "I'm not going to walk right for about a week...but loving every minute."
"Ready for the birthday boy?"
Pratt's cum-coated beard stretched as he grinned. "Always."
"You want it hard or easy?"
"What's the hardest you've ever fucked Tom or Seb?"
Evans smiled, one eyebrow raised as he looked up at the ceiling, pondering the question. "I dunno. Pretty rough a couple of times. Depends on the mood." His cock throbbed and his gaze went distant as he reminisced for a moment.
"Whatever that was...just a little bit harder."
Evans' eyes locked back onto Pratt's, his interest piqued. "Thought this wasn't a competition."
"It's not." Both men erupted with laughter. Pratt's chuckles faded into moans as the guy pounding his hole began erupting, spraying another load inside.
"Alright buddy. A little harder than Tom or Seb. Or Rudd. Or Hemsworth. Coming right up."
"Wait! When did you fuck Hems...aaaargh!" Pratt howled as Evans slammed inside, his balls shoving up against his sloppy, dripping hole. The Captain America actor had spread his feet to gain leverage, throwing his full weight and muscle into the thrust. Pulling back, he repeated the motion. "Ohhhh...fuck! FUCK! Fuuuuuck meeeeee...." Pratt's head hung down, his body going limp as it tried to adjust to the intense pounding.
"I...am...fucking...you..." Evans was beginning to break into a sweat as he exerted full force into his thrusts. Cum was cascading down his nuts, dripping to the floor, more of it coming out of Pratt's insides each time Evans rammed in.
"That's the best you can...oh DAMN FUCK!!!" The taunt evaporated as the grip on his waist tightened and Evans' changed tactics, pulling back all the way, the head of his cock nearly slipping out before he slammed back inside. Evans' balls were aching both from not just a need for release but also from the force at which they were slapping against Pratt's rear.
Pratt's view of the bar disappeared, eclipsed by yet another man, this time a football player, coming forward and stuffing his throat, growling "Suck it, Star-Lord." His cries of lustful agony were muffled, book-ended by the sound of skin slapping against skin from behind and escalating moans from in front.
"Pratt...gonna...fucking flood...your hole...some...more. Make a...oh fuck. Make a...wish....unnghhhhhhhh!" Evans' vision flashed white as he slammed in one last time, his balls pressed against Pratt's hole as he unleashed a torrent of cum inside. Normally by now he'd just be knocking out some spurts...but he hadn't gotten off in about two weeks, storing up specially for this evening. He collapsed down against Pratt's backside, their skin sticking together from the combination of their sweat-drenched bodies and the cum that was sprayed all over Pratt's body.
Evans felt a mouth working at his dick, sucking it clean thoroughly before a tongue began lapping at his balls until they were free of cum as well. A hand gently nudged him out of the way, two hands spreading Pratt's cheeks, followed by a happy slurping sound. Evans stepped away, a slight stumble in his step from the evening's efforts. Settling down onto a chair, he watched as Wahlberg feasted, his tongue diving in and out of Pratt's hole, gorging himself on juices that dozens of men had left. Slattery had finished but was now on his knees, helping Pratt suck and lick at Cam Newton's ebony rod.
Once Newton spilled his seed down Pratt and Slattery's chins, Evans enjoyed the show as more of the bar's patrons used Pratt's ass and mouth. When his friend was finally exhausted, Evans unstrapped him from 'Quasi' - the red-headed twins were back, helping Pratt shuffle to a leather chaise lounge. They laid him out, legs and arms dangling over the sides of the lounge, and began licking his body clean, starting at his neck and working their way down.
"Having fun, daddy?" A toned body, adorned in nothing but a jockstrap and a collar, straddled Evans' lap, a tongue working against his neck. His hand dropped down to cradle the two exposed buns, kneading them in his hands.
"Mmmm...yeah, Jeremy. Good to see you again." He tilted his face down, his lips meeting those of the Bruins goalie, feeling the other man's beard bristle against his own.
"You got another load in here for me?" A hand reached down and cupped Evans' balls.
"Maybe. You might have to work for it."
The hockey player pulled back, his hazel eyes shining with delight. "Yes sir." He worked his mouth down Evans' body, murmuring with his lips pressed against the beefy flesh as he settled onto his knees. He looked up, licking his lips. "Yours is the best." Evans tilted his head back with a long happy sigh as the lad went to work on his cock. His fingers trailed the kid's bearded jaw.
~ ~ a few hours later ~ ~
"Well, that was..." Pratt took in a long breath, followed by a contented exhale, looking up at the ceiling. Evans watched him, head cocked with amusement.
"Something?"
"Yeah, that's a good word for it." The pair let out a loud laugh, the sounds echoing off of the tiled walls of the private spa area. The twins had followed them into the room, helping them into the large jacuzzi-style bathtub, soaping up the two Marvel studs and ensuring that every inch was clean before exiting for more fun in the bar, leaving Pratt and Evans alone. "I think you got even from the football game." He reached down under the water, massaging his sore ass, pulling another laugh out of Evans.
"I think that was more than even, but you'll have to win again this year if you want to catch up." Evans winked, fond memories of their bet floating to his mind. "We'll have to come up with a bigger bet next time."
"Much bigger." The two grinned like devils, their imaginations beginning to run wild.
"So...how was that? Compared to little Tom-Tom?"
"Ha! I thought this wasn't a competition?" An eyebrow rose up over one brilliant blue eye.
"Everything is a competition."
"Hmmm." Evans stroked his chin. "Would have to say that spider-boy was more...enthusiastic...about trying out everything in the place. And everyone." He laughed as Pratt began glowering at him. "But you win on resiliance, hands down."
"So I've got the better ass?" Pratt leaned back, grinning from ear to ear.
"Oh, buddy - would say that's some prime beef butt you've got hanging below your back. Might have to have another go at it again later."
"Say what?"
"It's my..." Evans laughed as Pratt cut him off.
"Your birthday. Jeez. You're milking that one for all its worth."
"I am." Evans continued grinning.
"Maybe there's something else I can milk..." Pratt began moving forward in the tub, cutting through the water. Evans' head cocked again, this time with curiosity. "There's still a birthday candle left to blow out..."
"These are some bad jokes, Pratt."
"Maybe I'll show you how I got Holland to shut up then." Pratt closed the distance, lifting Evans up so he was sitting on the edge of the tub, legs dangling into the water.
Evans moaned as Pratt took Evans' cock into his mouth, the soft tube of flesh quickly filling out, lengthening down his throat.
"I fucking love birthdays."
~ The End ~
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