Briar said silent thanks to the magic gods that water was the only tithe necessary to cast a spell leaving him squeaky clean. “Please tell me you have lube.”
Rowan nodded. “Bedside cabinet.”
Briar had to lean over him to root around in the drawer at the bedside. He felt the tickle of beard, then the suck of a mouth around his nipple,and quite nearly forgot what he was looking for. He found it, though, and retracted it before Rowan could distract him further.
Briar uncapped the bottle and held it high. Lubricant streamed down in a gleaming string that, when it connected, made Rowan’s cock twitch. At the touch of Briar’s hand, he came apart. His head tipped back. His Adam’s apple bobbed around a halting groan. The noise reverberated, then shivered and shattered with each stroke. Briar’s hands were delicate, but they looked even more so wrapped around the girth of Rowan. He was every bit in proportion, and for the first time, Briar considered that he might have overestimated his ability.
He knew what he wanted, though. He prepared himself next, impatient and perfunctory. When it was done, he leaned forward to brace both hands against Rowan’s rising chest and looked him in the eyes. The scar, branching over his cheek and through his brow, held barely a trace of its usual aura. Rowan’s own overwhelmed it, cloaking Briar in a warmth like a swallow of whiskey. His honey-brown eyes fluttered closed as Briar lowered himself.
The sting was familiar, but the sharpness of it less so. Briar gritted his teeth. He wasn’t about to quit, but as he tried to let gravity help, a lance of pain went through him that had him clenching tighter. He’d clamped his eyes shut in the process. He only opened them when a hand touched his cheek.
Rowan’s expression had transformed. Instead of aroused, he looked concerned.
“Is that hurting?”
“Well, you are huge.”
Rowan started to sit up, and Briar rushed to stop him.
“I can manage!”
“I’m not interested in hurting you,” Rowan huffed.
“I’m sure I’m just out of practice.”
Rowan pulled him down by the wrists, kissing him to halt his babbling. His big hands, rough with calluses, slid down the line of Briar’s spine and over the curves found lower. The kneading massage loosened some of his tension, stretching out his muscles like taffy. Then one hand snuck lower, the other spreading him, and—
Briar melted, cheek pillowed against Rowan’s shoulder, muffling a moan there.
Rowan’s breath brushed the shell of his ear. “How do you like it normally?”
Briar struggled for coherence with Rowan’s index finger giving him a different sort of massage. “S-sex?”
A chuckle. “What else?”
Briar wet his lips, unsure what he meant by the question. “In—the—butt?”
Rowan’s laugh was a pleasant peal of distant thunder under Briar’s cheek. “Can you be more specific?”
“I don’t know?”
“You don’t?”
A note of exasperation, because Rowan was testing the pressure of a second finger. “Well, no one’s ever asked!”
Rowan sat up at that, dumping Briar onto the mattress. Before Briar could protest the loss of what had been a very pleasurable fingering, he found himself flat on his back with a pillow pushed under his hips. Rowan handled him with a firm, indomitable gentleness. Despite what Briar could only assume was a very long dry spell, Rowan seemed unfairly competent. It made Briar’s cheeks heat. And other places.
Rowan braced over him, one arm between them so his hand could resume what it had been doing before, only this time with Rowan’s mouth teasing Briar’s lips open the same way his fingers were. He worked out every knot of tension with methodical, almost ruthless, teasing. He tried different motions until he found the right ones, the ones that made Briar’s back arch. His hands weren’t small either, and it was a stretch, but the pleasurable kind.
Briar’s toes curled in anticipation. “Come on.”
Rowan drew back and gave Briar’s hip a pat. Obliging, Briar turned over, the pillow still canting his hips at an angle for best advantage. The mattress sank on either side of Briar’s shoulders where Rowan’s arms supported him. Briar spread his thighs and waited.
A kiss dropped to the crook of his neck. At the same time, he felt the intrusion. Just a light, nudging pressure at first that bloomed into something harder. It still hurt, but not the same as before, not at all. Now it was the languid stretch after too long spent motionless. Now, there was pleasure, too. A long, tightly wound, keening thing that slowly, slowly gave way. It wasn’t everything all at once. It was slow. A push and then a pause in which Rowan’s mouth left pink marks on his neck and drew gasps from him. And then waiting until Briar pushed back against him. Trapped against the pillow, there was not enough stimulation to come, but Briar felt that the barest touch might set him off. He bit his lip and tried not to.
Rowan finally slotted all the way into him. His breath whuffed against Briar’s nape in a long, shuddering exhale. His belly felt heavy against Briar’s arched back. His mouth traced the shell of an ear, and his teeth grazed Briar’s shoulder while Rowan gave his hips an experimental roll. It sent sparks shooting through Briar from the hot place Rowan was buried in him to the tips of all his fingers and toes. Rowan did it again, and again.
Outside the bedroom, Briar hardly ever shut up. Inside it, he didn’t often voice his wants, but this pressed him to it. “Harder.”
