Nicolò had pushed Yusuf onto his back and sunk onto his cock with every intention of riding him slowly. But for some reason – perhaps because of how long Yusuf had spent with his mouth on Nicolò’s cock while he’d been opening him up, perhaps just because of the lovely view Nicolò had of the way Yusuf was arching his neck as he powered up into him – Nicolò came untouched, an unexpected climax that went on and on as Yusuf fucked him through it. After that, he didn’t have the strength to stay on top; that was all right, though, as Yusuf had planted his feet and had all the leverage he needed to roll them over and grind his way to his own pleasure. Nicolò lay back and enjoyed the oversensitive feeling of being sated but still full, of Yusuf all around him.
When Yusuf pulled back, he didn’t look as pleased as you might expect of someone who had just finished a prolonged session of lovemaking that had ended in, as Nicolò considered it, reasonably spectacular mutual pleasure. He looked…annoyed.
“What?” said Nicolò, who didn’t have the energy to be more specific. He rubbed circles with his thumb on Yusuf’s thigh, for the quiet pleasure of touch.
“You just…” Yusuf said, gesturing at the mess on Nicolò’s stomach, which had transferred to his as well. “I didn’t even touch you. You weren’t touching yourself.”
“Well, it was a very good fuck. You may congratulate yourself, if you like.”
“But,” Yusuf frowned further. “How can it possibly be that good?”
Nicolò raised his eyebows. “Beloved, do not take this the wrong way, but I do not love you enough to pretend to enjoy getting fucked purely for your benefit.”
The amount of chagrin creeping into Yusuf’s expression suggested he had, perhaps, thought that might be the case. Nicolò was not quite relaxed enough to find that charming, as charming as he found Yusuf almost all of the time now, which was an amount that had been entirely unimaginable for the first portion of their acquaintance.
“We have discussed this,” he went on. “I don’t like sucking your cock, most of the time, and you, for reasons that are beyond me, utterly refuse to contemplate that being fucked might be an enjoyable experience. That I knew. But you thought I was pretending?”
“No – that is – of course I would not –” stuttered Yusuf, who had obviously figured out how poorly it would reflect on him if he said yes, given how enthusiastically he had participated in said fucking. “I assumed…perhaps…you were being reassuring. Since you know I do not…I do not.”
“You really think too highly of me,” Nicolò said. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t noticed how much Yusuf enjoyed it when he gave voice to his own pleasure; it was hard to miss; but he wasn’t pretending. He drew a finger down Yusuf’s sticky chest. “This would be rather hard to pretend.”
“It would,” said Yusuf quietly, and kissed Nicolò tenderly on the mouth. “Never mind me.”
The next time they were at it, they had reached a point in proceedings where Nicolò had rolled onto his front and spread his legs meaningfully, gasping “The oil is in the left-hand saddlebag -”
Yusuf didn’t move, and Nicolò looked back over his shoulder. “Or no. Not tonight?”
“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” Yusuf said, very earnestly, which for most men would have contrasted oddly with the high flush on his cheeks and how hard he was, but Yusuf was often extremely earnest at the height of passion. “I just do not see how…I tried it, you know. Many years ago, now. And it was…not pleasant. Oh, not like that,” he added, seeing Nicolò’s face. “But not enough to go through with it. And now…” He rubbed his bearded chin.
Nicolò sensed that he was unlikely to get that particular pleasure tonight, and rolled back over, so he did not have to look over his shoulder. “Yusuf. As I said; we have discussed this. You do not have to like it. But it is insulting when you think I don’t.”
“As if I would ever insult you, beloved,” said the man who had once called him all the worst insults in two languages Nicolò had known at the time and three he had not, before driving his sword through Nicolò’s heart. On the other hand, Nicolò had been returning favour for favour.
“Come here,” Nicolò said, with a sigh, and pulled Yusuf down next to him. “If you’re going to be philosophical, whisper it in my ear, at least.”
“I can think of better things than that,” Yusuf said, more cheerfully, and guided Nicolò’s cock between his thighs. He placed it in an entirely different category of act, seemingly, and sometimes preferred it, in both directions.
“Yes, you can,” Nicolò agreed breathlessly, as he began to move.
Yusuf fucked Nicolò senseless, to great mutual satisfaction, three more times before the topic came up again. Looking back on it, Nicolò did have the sense that Yusuf had been testing something. Each time, he had spent longer than usual letting Nicolò writhe and plead on his fingers, and he had wanted to do it face to face, which was certainly nothing that unusual, but rarely occurred three times in a row. At the time, however, Nicolò had been quite reasonably distracted.
The fourth time, Yusuf said, very solemnly, after they had been tangled up in each other exchanging increasingly heated kisses for some while, “I think you should try and fuck me.”
This was so unexpected Nicolò was sure he must have heard him wrong, had perhaps forgotten what language they were speaking. “I should…what?”
“I have thought it over, and if it really is that good…” Yusuf smiled, a little wickedly. “Besides, beloved. I know how good it feels for me, when I am buried in you.” He leaned in to breathe the words into Nicolò’s ear. “I am not afraid of anything else with you, or from you. I will not be afraid to give you that.”
Nicolò’s cock had very decided opinions on the benefits of this offer. He couldn’t stop his hips from moving, grinding down against Yusuf, and he didn’t try. His heart had second thoughts.
“First of all,” he said, kissing his way along the line where Yusuf’s beard met his throat, “I am never going to try and fuck you.” Yusuf stiffened minutely at that; yes, he’d read it right. “Second of all.” He pulled back, so he could see Yusuf’s eyes. “When I do, it’s going to be because you cannot stand for a second longer that I’m not. Not because you think we should, or that you won’t be afraid. You’re going to beg me for it, and I will oblige you.”
Yusuf had gone very still, now, but it wasn’t the stillness of terror; Nicolò was pressed all along the length of him, and had felt his cock twitch.
He licked his lips, and said “Am I?”
His tone was light, but his eyes were burning into Nicolò’s. Nicolò hadn’t wanted to fuck him this badly since the time years past when they had barely agreed to stop trying to kill each other, had shared less than half a common language, and Nicolò had fantasised about it as some sort of way to communicate all the complicated things he felt without the need for words.
“I promise,” Nicolò said, as seriously as he knew how. “But you’ll just have to wait.”
He couldn’t stop his own smirk at the way Yusuf frowned. Now he had his attention.
“But you don’t,” Yusuf said, a few days later, when Nicolò got down between his legs and pressed a kiss to the crease between his leg and his body.
“Not usually,” Nicolò agreed, humming. He simply didn’t enjoy having a cock in his mouth all that much; it was too much to manage, teeth and tongue and all of that, and neither swallowing nor spitting held very much appeal. But that wasn’t his plan tonight. “Trust me.”
He kissed his way up to Yusuf’s cock, mouthing and licking along his length until Yusuf was hard and starting to leak, was tipping his head back and letting his legs loll open. Then he retrieved the vial of oil and dipped his thumb in it, and pressed it, lightly, against the furl of Yusuf’s hole.
“Ssh,” he said, when he felt Yusuf’s legs tense around him; he couldn’t see from this angle, but he knew Yusuf was looking at him. “I promised, remember?”
“I remember,” Yusuf agreed, and relaxed, but in the most deliberate of ways. Nicolò took his time, rubbing in small slow circles, keeping Yusuf’s attention and Yusuf’s cock’s attention with his mouth and his other hand, until Yusuf had truly relaxed, accepting that Nicolò wasn’t going to do anything startling.
“Just one,” Nicolò said, coaxing, and eased the tip of his finger into Yusuf. Yusuf moaned. He felt an immediate rush of affection, of power, of blood between his legs; by God, he wanted this man.
He went slowly, as slowly as he could make himself, pausing to mouth Yusuf’s balls and jack his cock with his other hand, keeping him on the edge. Yusuf was melting under his hands. He didn’t know why they’d never done this before. By the time he managed to get two fingers in, and curl them the way he had taught Yusuf to do to him, Yusuf was bordering on frantic, breath hitching desperately every time Nicolò stroked along his cock, whining when he took his hand away. Nicolò was expecting a reaction; he wasn’t expecting Yusuf to say “Oh. Oh,” startlingly loud, and spill right away. Which was why he ended up with some of Yusuf’s spend on his nose.
Once Yusuf had recovered, he propped himself up on his elbows, and burst into laughter. Nicolò curled his fingers again, and the laughter stuttered to a stop quite satisfactorily.
“Not – I don’t think I can,” Yusuf said, a hint of panic in his eyes. His cock was softening very slowly, and it twitched. Nicolò filed that thought away for later, and carefully pulled his fingers out.
“I apologise for my poor aim,” Yusuf went on, chest still heaving, “but let me make it up to you,” and rearranged Nicolò to demonstrate his own extreme enthusiasm for the art of cocksucking. Nicolò had no objections to that whatsoever.
After that, Yusuf quite frequently opened his legs, or drew Nicolò’s hand down between them, or, finally, muttered frankly into his mouth “I want your fingers, please.”
“Are you sure that’s all you want?” Nicolò said. He was enjoying this, but – now the prospect had been dangled in front of him, and Yusuf had been awakened to the joys of coming on his fingers (three times in a row, once, which had left them both wrung out in the best possible way) he was starting to dream of what Yusuf had initially suggested.
Yusuf gave him a truly filthy kiss, all tongue and teeth and a hand on his arse. “I want you to keep your promise.”
“Well, then,” said Nicolò, burying a hand in his long curls and tugging slightly backwards, to expose the line of Yusuf’s throat. “Let’s see whether you’re in a begging mood.”
He took his time opening Yusuf up, stretching him with three fingers without more than a glancing touch to the sweet spot inside, or even a hand on his cock; when Yusuf tried to touch himself, he used his other hand to slap him away. “Not tonight.”
“You are a very cruel man,” Yusuf panted; he was hard even though he’d barely been touched, and sweat was beading on his brow. “I don’t know why I asked for this.”
Nicolò went in deep with all three fingers, mimicking what he was going to do with his cock, and then pressed firmly with his thumb on the tender flesh between Yusuf’s hole and his balls. “I don’t know, why did you?”
Yusuf gasped, and said “Please.”
“I didn’t hear that,” said Nicolò, who was enjoying this perhaps a little too much, but who wouldn’t?
“Please,” Yusuf said, between gritted teeth, as Nicolò skimmed his free hand over his cock, not quite touching, and fucked him on his fingers again. “Please, Nicolò, beloved, fuck me, I want it, I am asking for it, you promised –”
“Yes,” Nicolò said urgently, spilling the oil in his haste, “I did, and I need you on your knees now, Yusuf, roll over for me, it will be easier –”
He had to pinch himself on the thigh to make himself go as slowly as Yusuf needed him to, when he sank in; it was too good, Yusuf was too hot around him, everywhere, all-consuming. He rocked into him in tiny increments, using all his self-control, until Yusuf whined and said “Faster, like you like it,” which was unfairly arousing.
Nicolò bit his lip and set a fast pace, but not too fast for thoroughness; deep in, and out again, Yusuf under him and around him and he wasn’t going to last, not a chance. He got a hand around and brushed the head of Yusuf’s cock. Yusuf sobbed and came, in long violent pulses. Nicolò fucked him through it once, twice, and then had to grab Yusuf’s shoulders for balance as his own pleasure overtook him. He babbled something, he was sure; he couldn’t under torture have said what.
“I apologise,” Yusuf said, once they had both recovered, or at least collapsed in a sticky and untidy heap.
“For what?” Nicolò asked, unable to think of a single thing his perfect, beautiful Yusuf could need to apologise for. He would be able to think of plenty of things if you gave him half an hour, but right now his mind was elsewhere.
“Thinking you might be pretending,” Yusuf clarified. “I was much mistaken.”
“Yes,” Nicolò agreed, heartfelt, burying his face in Yusuf’s shoulder. “You were, and I accept your apology, and I will accept it a second time, when you are ready, in the form of getting fucked properly again. It’s been far too long.”
“You do…want to do this again,” Yusuf said, only a little anxiously.
Nicolò smiled against his skin. “Yes, beloved,” he said. “I think we can come to an agreement.”